Here's what one Holocaust survivor has to say about the rise of the Antifa movement.
At a recent anti-hate rally in Berkeley, Joey Gibson, leader of the extreme right-wing, white supremacist group, Patriot Prayer, strolled directly in front of me, his three burly bodyguards in tow.
A few people nearby pointed him out, shouting his name.
I had an immediate visceral reaction to the sight of this man, whom I consider to be a neo-Nazi. To my eyes, Gibson and his men were angling for conflict; their swagger left no doubt.
And I stood there shaking, my homemade sign in hand. "Hate speech leads to Holocaust," it read.
I am an 80-year-old Holocaust survivor.
We learned that the young men and women around us, dressed in all black, were trained not to engage in confrontations, except to protect demonstrators like us if we were attacked by white supremacists like Gibson.
It was my first encounter with Antifa, the movement comprised of young militant antifascists who have been vilified in some of the media for their tactics.
So even though I was afraid of Gibson and his thugs, I felt comforted — not by the presence of any police officer that day, but by the presence of the Antifa. I feel gratitude to these young people for being our first line of defense, for being willing to stand up to the hateful actions of neo-Nazis and white nationalists like Gibson.
I know from experience what it feels like not to feel protected.
And I've seen firsthand the impact hate speech, under the guise of free speech, can have. As a child in Nazi Germany, I saw young boys and girls being indoctrinated into becoming mass murderers of their neighbors. Later I learned how grown men, destroyed by fear, were rendered incapable of protecting their loved ones. I learned that a crowd could be moved to heinous actions.
From the time I was 5, I was told never to mention that our mother was Jewish. This was about the time my half-sister, my father's oldest daughter from his first marriage, unexpectedly came to live with us. She had seen her mother and stepfather violently removed from their home, never to be seen again.
When I was 8, two sinister-looking Gestapo, the secret Nazi police, knocked on the door of our makeshift bomb shelter, a converted coal cellar. Berlin was under the final heavy bomb attacks of the Allied Forces. And the men had demanded that my mother accompany them, threatening to set their dog on her and shoot her if she tried to escape.
Everybody in the cellar with us that day knew that my mother's only crime in life was being a Jew, defined not by her profession of a given religious preference but by racial law.
Yet no one dared to speak up for this mother of three young children.
Nobody said a word of encouragement as she was torn away from her children. Nobody demanded these men desist from sending one more Jew to her death in a concentration camp.
The time without our mother seemed endless. We were scared and hungry in that poorly lit, cold, uncomfortable cellar. Some of the neighbors had told us my mother would never return, and they had begun to discuss with which of them each of us children would have to live.
My mother managed to escape and come back to us. But for the rest of my life, I have remembered the fear that crept over me as I faced the possibility of never seeing her again.
Soon, the bombing ceased and the Soviet Army liberated our neighborhood. But I saw the photos in the newspapers of some of the millions who had not been as lucky as we had, those who had had no one to protect them.
I could not trust that such an experience would not repeat itself.
In 1947, my mother, my younger brother and I immigrated to Venezuela and learned there what life was like under a long military Latin American-style dictatorship. Once again, I saw how some people were scared and read how some were detained, deported, and even killed. Again, I was not sure who would defend us if something happened to our family.
And when I came to study in the U.S. in 1955, in what I had erroneously believed was the cradle of freedom, I had a real-life crash course in the lack of civil rights for people of color, the murderous laws still prevalent in many Southern states, and the education, employment, and housing discrimination in the North.
I later learned a startling truth: that the racial laws of the Nazis, which categorized me as a "Jew of the Second Degree" (due to my Jewish mother and Gentile father), were based on U.S. race laws. I had fallen for some of the powerful propaganda this country disseminates abroad through its mass media.
But I woke up and got involved. I learned to speak up and organize for civil rights, against the war in Vietnam and, later, against the many invasions of other countries and ongoing discrimination.
And now here I am, more than 70 years after walking out of that dank cellar in a Berlin neighborhood, faced once again with neo-Nazis spewing and spreading their hate and beliefs about white supremacy.
Far too many people in this country are still excluded and even killed for reasons that were used during World War II to send populations to the gas chambers. We don't have official concentration camps as such in the U.S. (anymore), but the prison-industrial complex is thriving and ever-expanding immigrant detention centers are crowded and inhumane.
So, yes, I am scared of what fascists can do. I have little confidence that local police — ever more heavily armed with military weaponry and unskilled in dealing with the vulnerable in our societies — will protect those confronted by neo-Nazis.
Make no mistake, these neo-Nazis and white supremacists are serious.
The 2017 murders in Portland and Charlottesville demonstrate that.
In Europe, different generations of young antifascists committed to preventing acts of violence to vulnerable populations, resurface from time to time.
I feel comforted by the fact that these young antifascists exist here in the U.S., too.
This story originally appeared in YES! Magazine and is reprinted here with permission.
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- Holocaust survivor uses banknote clue to find the family of 'kind' soldier who liberated her - Upworthy ›
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12 non-threatening leadership strategies for women
We mustn't hurt a man's feelings.
Men and the feels.
Note: This an excerpt is from Sarah Cooper's book, How to Be Successful Without Hurting Men's Feelings.
In this fast-paced business world, female leaders need to make sure they're not perceived as pushy, aggressive, or competent.
One way to do that is to alter your leadership style to account for the fragile male ego.
Should men accept powerful women and not feel threatened by them? Yes. Is that asking too much?
IS IT?
Sorry, I didn't mean to get aggressive there. Anyhoo, here are twelve non-threatening leadership strategies for women.
Encourage.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When setting a deadline, ask your coworker what he thinks of doing something, instead of just asking him to get it done. This makes him feel less like you're telling him what to do and more like you care about his opinions.
Sharing ideas.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When sharing your ideas, overconfidence is a killer. You don't want your male coworkers to think you're getting all uppity. Instead, downplay your ideas as just "thinking out loud," "throwing something out there," or sharing something "dumb," "random," or "crazy."
Email requests.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Pepper your emails with exclamation marks and emojis so you don't come across as too clear or direct. Your lack of efficient communication will make you seem more approachable.
Idea sharing.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
If a male coworker steals your idea in a meeting, thank him for it. Give him kudos for how he explained your idea so clearly. And let's face it, no one might've ever heard it if he hadn't repeated it.
Sexism.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When you hear a sexist comment, the awkward laugh is key. Practice your awkward laugh at home, with your friends and family, and in the mirror. Make sure you sound truly delighted even as your soul is dying inside.
Mansplain.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Men love explaining things. But when he's explaining something and you already know that, it might be tempting to say, "I already know that." Instead, have him explain it to you over and over again. It will make him feel useful and will give you some time to think about how to avoid him in the future.
Mistakes.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Pointing out a mistake is always risky so it's important to always apologize for noticing the mistake and then make sure that no one thinks you're too sure about it. People will appreciate your "hey what do I know?!" sensibilities.
Promotions.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Asking your manager for a promotion could make you seem power- hungry, opportunistic, and transparent. Instead, ask a male coworker to vouch for you. Have your coworker tell your manager you'd be great for the role even though you don't really want it. This will make you more likely to actually get that promotion.
Rude.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Sometimes not everyone is properly introduced at the start of a meeting. Don't take it personally even if it happens to you all the time, and certainly don't stop the meeting from moving forward to introduce yourself. Sending a quick note afterward is the best way to introduce yourself without seeming too self-important.
Interruptions.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When you get interrupted, you might be tempted to just continue talking or even ask if you can finish what you were saying. This is treacherous territory. Instead, simply stop talking. The path of least resistance is silence.
Collaboration.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When collaborating with a man, type using only one finger. Skill and speed are very off-putting.
Disagreements.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
When all else fails, wear a mustache so everyone sees you as more man-like. This will cancel out any need to change your leadership style. In fact, you may even get a quick promotion!
In conclusion...
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
Many women have discovered the secret power of non-threatening leadership. We call it a "secret power" because no one else actually knows about it. We keep our power hidden within ourselves so that it doesn't frighten and intimidate others. That's what makes us the true unsung heroes of the corporate world.
About the Author: Sarah Cooper
Sarah Cooper is a writer, comedian, and author of 100 Tricks to Appear Smart in Meetings. Her new book, How to Be Successful Without Hurting Men's Feelings, is out now.
The comedic book cover.
With permission from Sarah Cooper.
A satirical take on what it's like to be a woman in the workplace, Cooper draws from her experience as a former executive in the world of tech (she's a former Googler and Yahooer). You can get the book here.
This article was originally published on March 25, 2019.