Coming into Poland, I knew that attitudes towards the LGBTQ+ community were not on the positive side. In fact, Poland is the second worst country to live in as a member of the LGBTQ+ within the EU. I was surprised when our tour guide pointed out the Pride Parade happening in Krakow during our stay. Having never been to a Pride event before, I had no idea what to expect. Below are my reflections from the Krakow Pride Parade.

After reading a few articles regarding protests against the parade, I wasn’t surprised to see a heavy police presence at the event. Rows and rows of police men and women in full riot gear leading and surrounding the parade seemed like quite a sufficient deterrent to any would-be-protestor, of which I saw none. However, I couldn’t help but wonder how these police officers felt about the event they were assigned to, as none of them looked too pleased to be there.

The thing that warmed my heart the most was the beautiful people I met. Everyone was so friendly and lovely. I met people from Canada visiting family in Krakow, students of Krakow from different grade levels, and people from many different communities, with each person greeting me with a smile. Seeing everyone celebrating each other in such a peaceful, fun, and positive way sparked many emotions inside me. As a recently out queer woman, I understand on some level what it is like to have to hide who you are in different communities and situations. Knowing that many of these people present at this event cannot normally be out in their regular daily lives made this parade all the more powerful for me.

Pride is so important in every community. Seeing all of the different communities of the LGBTQ+ spectrum present in one place embracing each others’ unique aspects with love and kindness was very cool to witness. Many people hold prejudices against certain communities for simple fears of the unknown, or because something is different. This simple motivation for hatred is what has and continues to spark antisemitism in the world, as well as violence against certain minority groups. If we as a global community are ever to truly embrace the narrative of “never again” as it relates to genocide and the Holocaust, we have to start embracing and celebrating our differences. Pride Parades and events like this one in Krakow are great steps in the right direction, and I feel blessed to have had the opportunity to witness the celebration of so many beautiful people.

Judaism believes that death is the separation of the souls from mortal flesh. The soul moves on and exists in eternity, whereas the body does not. In death, the body must be treated with respect, so that with the coming of the messiah, the soul and the body can be reunited in the world to come. The natural decay of the body is imperative, easing the soul away from the body. The vessel is sacred, and Jewish law and ritual dictate that it be treated with total respect. 

What does this mean for those who perished at the hands of the Third Reich? During Operation 1005 the nazis wanted to eliminate all evidence of their crimes and all traces of Jews. They opened up mass graves just to burn more bodies, additionally disturbing bodies that had begun to settle. Because of the beliefs that souls will be reunited with their body when the Messiah comes, to cremate the body is to defile the body. This is problematic upon the realization that burning bodies and cremation was the nazis preferred method of getting rid of the masses of Jewish bodies they murdered. So I’m not sure what that means for those bodies and those souls. I think that God does understand when circumstances are out of our control and would not cause any continued suffering.

Today was a very hard day for me, Dr. Chapman and the students. We journeyed from Warsaw to the site of the extermination camp Chełmno. We were very much in the middle of nowhere, and spent much of the day en route with very little to eat. We arrived in Łodź “hangry” as Melonie likes to say—-with major low blood sugar, a tired and agitated group.

Chełmno is hard to fathom. It was the first extermination camp where around 300,000 Jews (and some Roma) were killed. Today about 30,000 tourists a year visit the site—not so easy a task. But the director told me some only visit the small museum while others go to the actual site of the burial pits some 4 kilometers away. We see only two women on bicycles, locals it would seem. We are alone with each other on the vast expanse of what was. And there is little there to reflect the horror of what happened—-where Jews were gassed in vans as they were driven to the site where they were first buried and later exhumed and burned. The desolation makes the experience so profound, especially since we know the Nazi ruse of “resettlement” did not last long at sites like Chełmno and Treblinka where people were beaten and tortured almost from the moment they arrived. Chełmno feels like a forgotten place, but one where the earth still screams in pain. The few “poppies” growing on the site attest that Chełmno has been largely forgotten; the poppy itself a symbol of death (most often associate with World War I) doesn’t grow here in large numbers but rather like everything else on the landscape is sparse. I read that a baby’s remains was found a few years ago near the museum site and buried in a small grave near the memorial. The sign I read said the baby must have been hidden at the time. But how many babies, children and pregnant women died here? Taking my students to Chełno is important to me. I’m proud they made the journey because the victims at who died here must be remembered.

On site at Chełmno is a ring of tombstones. They aren’t original. They were found elsewhere, having been moved by the Germans and used now at Chełmno as a sort of make-shift memorial. One has a domestic scene on it that I think is unusual, but I can’t find a good description to explain the iconography. It contains a “pitcher” so a reference to ritual washing, but since it looks like a kitchen scene, I’m supposing it is the grave marker of a woman. It reminds me that Jews were taken from their homes—-the sites of their daily lives—-and removed to horror on a barren and hidden landscape where their identities were stripped from them before they were murdered.

Near the end of the day we saw the Radegast train station in Łodź from which so many Jews were deported. The memorial is extremely well done with a railroad track running along the ceiling, and a real rail line close by—-making for eery moments when a train goes by.

As a thundstrom was potentially about to roll through, I took out my phone and quickly snapped the photo of the barbed wire on the train car. Once I was sheltered from the potiental storm, I looked at the photo and thought, “as an outsider looking in… what does an outsider see?”
I thought about the answer to this question most of the evening, and the answer that I could only come up with, there really isn’t just, one answer.
As an outsider looking in, I see men and women with with hopelessness in their eyes. I see brothers and sisters who have fear and worry stricken on their faces. Children are being held high enough to possibly get a glimpse of the outside world. I see husbands and wives embracing each other, as it may be the last time they feel ‘safe’. These faces are Hungrian, and Polish, Jewish, Romanian, and Sini. But, what I actually see most of all … nothing.

The only downside to Study Abroad is the jet lag. For me the heavy responsibilities of such a trip make sleep difficult anyway. There is so much to organize, remember, prepare for each day as I study my notes, read, blog, and reflect before engaging the students. There is no down time. And of course, I must assess my own reflections of the sites we visit. Today at 3:18 AM, Norfolk Public Schools started texting. Then it was impossible to return to sleep. On the upside, I did spy an awesome view of Warsaw from my hotel window at 4:26 AM!

A personal reflection on my visit to Birkenau

People often like to say that “the birds don’t sing” at Birkenau. On my first visit to the site I might have agreed. I think that it is easy to become so overwhelmed by the site that our senses dull to anything outside of the wind and our own footsteps. A year later, I was anxious to go back to Birkenau. It had so deeply affected me the last time I had visited, and to this day I’m still not completely sure of why. I was trying my best to picture the invisible, to see and feel those who once walked to pathways I was now walking. This was a painful journey, but one I will never forget.

This year, I tried to focus on my surroundings in a different way. I wasn’t exactly sure how that would manifest itself once I got there, but I knew I needed to try something new. When I arrived, I instantly noticed the songs of the birds. They had a lot to say, and they were everywhere. I became fixated on each feathered visitor I came across. Each one was different, and each one had its own personality. Perhaps they captured my attention because they could fly away when those who suffered here could not. The freedom these birds have to go where they please hit me in an intense way. Did birds visit those imprisoned here? Did the victims who suffered here find comfort in these visitors, or did they resent them for their ability to leave this horrid place?

The State Museum of Auschwitz-Birkenau is an interesting place to be. The exhibits at Auschwitz I, in the reconstructed and preserved prisoner barracks, have always made me feel disconnected from the memory of the site. Not only do the exhibits and signs direct and manipulate you attention, they attempt to influence your emotions as well. From the ways they herd you though each hallway, to the descriptions of each picture and artifact, everything is placed for the purpose of inciting a specific emotional response from each viewer. To a viewer who has a very limited understanding of the Holocaust and the events that occurred at Auschwitz, the exhibits provide good information. But they also create a very specific narrative that this innocent viewer would blindly adopt without being able to develop their own experience.

The types of visitors Auschwitz receives are mixed, and can also add another layer of distraction to the educated and curious viewer. Sarah Hodgkinson elaborates on these types of visitors in her article about “dark tourism”, stating that there are three types of visitors: those who have a personal connection to the site, those who are there for education purposes, and those who are simply curious or had nothing better to do. Unfortunately, many people visit the site without fully comprehending where they are and exhibit inappropriate behaviors: couples hold hands and exchange laughter while walking past buildings in which many people suffered, a mother pushes her child in a stroller through a place where many mothers were separated from their own, and a grandfather smiles with his grandson under the main gate of Auschwitz I to pose for a photo.

All of these make the tourist aspect of Auschwitz increasingly apparent to me. The museum tries to educate viewers on what is appropriate and what is not, but that does not take away from the fact that you walk past tour buses, a cafe, a gift shop, and go through a theme-park-style turnstile just to enter the main camp. While millions of people visit the museum each year, the cliche Holocaust narrative of “never forget” has clearly been unsuccessful. The State Museum works tirelessly to provide accurate information to the academic community and its visitors, yet there is still a disconnect between the museum’s mission and the motivations behind the visitors of Auschwitz.