Recently, you inquired about my actions during the rise of a certain political leader. I felt a swell of pride as I recounted my efforts to stand up against the tide of negativity. My days were filled with marches, protests, heartfelt letters, phone calls, and endless writing—all alongside a vibrant community of individuals who shared the goal of preserving the core values of our nation. You chuckled when I mentioned how your mother and uncle joined me, leading chants that echoed “hate won’t make us great.” You wanted to see photographs of their younger selves at those events, but sadly, I couldn’t show you any because it coincided with Shabbat. However, I still have their colorful signs, and your delight in them was heartwarming.
We reminisced about those moments, but then our conversation shifted to the darker times that followed. You were puzzled by how such troubling events could unfold. The signing of a refugee ban on Holocaust Remembrance Day? The nomination of a racist individual as attorney general at the start of Black History Month? I admitted that I struggled to comprehend it as well. Even now, I find it hard to grasp the reality of those events, and I remain thankful that I made it through. We also paused to remember those who were not as fortunate.
You asked if fear gripped me during those tumultuous days. “Absolutely,” I replied. I feared for our country’s future, for the lives at stake, and for the growing shadows of anti-Semitism, Islamophobia, racism, sexism, and homophobia. The threats to a free press and the casual acceptance of “alternative facts” were deeply unsettling. You laughed at the term but stopped when I explained that it was simply a euphemism for lies. I also worried about our planet. (When you asked about snow, I couldn’t help but smile, even though it made my heart ache.)
Importantly, I clarified that my fear was not for my own life, but rather for those whose very existence was under threat every day due to their identity. I fought for the freedom that allowed me to march, write, and call out injustices. It was my hope that everyone could find refuge here, escaping persecution for who they are. I wanted that promise to endure in the United States.
I shared with you my hope that this explanation of my activism resonated with you, even when others labeled me as overly dramatic or a nuisance at gatherings. Yet, amidst the turmoil, there was a deeper motivation that kept me moving forward: the thought that someday you would ask me, “What did you do?” I wanted to respond honestly: “I fought. I fought for you.”
With all my love,
Savta
In Summary
This heartfelt letter to my future granddaughter reflects on my efforts to combat the rise of harmful ideologies during a challenging political climate. I explained my fears, motivations, and the importance of standing up for values that safeguard the well-being of all individuals, particularly those under threat. My hope is that future generations will understand the significance of this fight.