{"id":936,"date":"2024-05-01T17:05:33","date_gmt":"2024-05-01T21:05:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/?p=936"},"modified":"2024-05-01T17:05:33","modified_gmt":"2024-05-01T21:05:33","slug":"words-to-fell-a-pillar","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/2024\/05\/01\/words-to-fell-a-pillar\/","title":{"rendered":"Words to Fell a Pillar"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n

Human beings typically have one of two reactions upon learning about the horrors and atrocities committed by their fellow man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The first being an immediate silence; the tactical and self-preservational instinct to ignore. This individual quietly files the information away into the corner of their brain wherein they may be fortunate enough to never stumble across it again, protecting themselves from the disgust in humanity, and from the questions of morality the actions may arise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The second response is loud; a rallying cry for change; a proclamation of condemnation; a plastering of large numbers, bigger pictures; a grouping of the afflicted and affected into one indisputable mass of magnitude so that no one can ever deny the scale of what has taken place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

While both of these reactions make perfect psychological sense, (action versus inaction, fight versus flight, undertaking versus withdrawal) I fear they both ultimately detract from a sense of interconnectedness, or in other words radical empathy, that is so vital to the laws of human nature.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I read through Isabel Wilkerson’s Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents<\/em>, I couldn’t help but feel increasingly frustrated by this realization. We as a people have become so entrenched in individualistic ideals and the intense polarization of ways of thought that, no matter which side we choose, we derive ourselves of the beauty of real humanizing connections.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I flipped through the pages, though, reviewing every aspect of caste that Wilkerson introduced, and realized that this lack of collectivism and radical empathy only further removes us from each other. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

What follows on this page is a collection of photography from the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum and original poetry written by me. Assigned to each picture and poem is, as defined by Wilkerson, a pillar of caste. Before you read the poems, I encourage you to consume the images. Each picture is hand-picked from the USHMM’s photo archives and has a story behind it. I further ask that you then read the poems, each of which focuses on how any one individual could be afflicted by even the smallest fraction of caste in action.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I want to disclaim that it is not my purpose to speak over, or assume ownership of, the stories being told here, nor of the individuals afflicted by the horrors of the Holocaust. I merely wish to encourage people to see fewer large numbers, to step away from categorizing, and to portray the detriment that each small aspect of caste has on any one human being. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I hope that with these Words to Fell a Pillar I encourage people to see that the might of a situation does not rank higher than the individual affected. I encourage you to take stand in your own life, to recognize the impacts that a prejudiced society has on the individual. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even if a story is not plastered on billboards or shouted from the rooftops it is just as powerful and important to our humanity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1.<\/em> Divine Will and the Laws of Nature<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
View of the destroyed interior of the synagogue in Opava after Kristallnacht. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #89999. Courtesy of Leo Goldberger. Copyright of United States Holocaust Memorial Museum<\/em>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Destruction floods the house held sacred <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Its holy walls groan and tremble <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Shuddering in fear of injury <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Memories of melodies, of voices raised in song <\/p>\n\n\n\n

choke deep beneath the ash and soot <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rendered silent by the rubble <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He enters through the curtained dust <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To stand within that hallowed space <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To see what they have done to this <\/p>\n\n\n\n

These blessed halls <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Of deliverance <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And as he falls to his knees <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the building itself cries out <\/p>\n\n\n\n

In a twisted shriek of groaning metal; shattered bones <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The shards of glass which litter the floor <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rise to meet him; to live within him <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Piercing the flesh that has condemned him <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Biting into skin now awash with stinging tears <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He knows; even in his aching, faltering heart <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Amidst this corpse of veneration <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This cannot be the will of his God.<\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

2. Heritability<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Portrait of a Jewish mother and son. Pictured are Henrietta and Ivan Rechts. They were subsequently deported to Theresienstadt and Auschwitz, where they perished. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #47570. Courtesy of Gabriella Reitler Rosberger. Copyright of United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They say there is a poison <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s running through her veins <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And nothing can be done <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Except to listen and obey <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They say there is a filth <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Living underneath her skin <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It roils beneath and bucks its head <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A crooked, evil grin <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They say there is an error <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within her lines of life <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the only way to mend it <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is to suffer \u2018neath the knife <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She listens, bows her head <\/p>\n\n\n\n

None of these does she dispute <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But the one which cuts the deepest <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The one whose cost will be the steepest <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Is that when she holds her baby boy <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To him, it passes too. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

3. Endogamy and Control of Marriage and Mating<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
German police officers march a young man who has had illicit relations with a Jewish woman through the streets. He is wearing a sign that reads \u201cI am a defiler of the race.\u201d Norden, Germany, July 1935. Staatsarchiv Auric<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her hands cannot be his to hold<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her eyes cannot be his to keep<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her smile cannot be his to mold<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her presence<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Clawing desperately<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her embrace cannot be his to feel<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her time cannot be his to spend<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her heart cannot be his to shield<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her light, restrained<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ensured to end<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And though he wakes<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still mortal-bound<\/p>\n\n\n\n

His strings of life<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still tightly wound<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Within his mind<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He halts in time<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And lies with her<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Beneath the ground.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

4. Purity vs Pollution<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
The public burning of “un-German” books by members of the SA and university students on the Opernplatz in Berlin. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #31007. Courtesy of National Archives and Records Administration, College Park.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The flames are cleansing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is what they claim <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As they tear apart the sanctuaries <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The homes of stories long told <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ripping page from bind, word from being <\/p>\n\n\n\n

They claim to sterilize <\/p>\n\n\n\n

To wash this knowledge, this filth <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But when they stand aside the fire <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The light casts shadows in their eyes <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The soot clings to their dripping brows <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Charred remnants stick between their teeth <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ash spits vehemently from the blaze <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Landing atop their skin <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving the weakest sting <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A final stand, a rattle of death <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And as their smiles widen <\/p>\n\n\n\n

the fire dying <\/p>\n\n\n\n

the embers faltering<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They smile a blackest smile<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And they look far from clean. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

5. Occupational Hierarchy<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
A Jewish businessman poses with the workers in his textile factory “M. van Dam and Zonen” on his last day before he was forced to hand over his business. Isidoor zan Dam is pictured wearing a yellow star. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #43156. Courtesy of Clara Renee Keren Vromen. Copyright of United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They did not mind what she created<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her love for her art was dismissed<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her care and attentiveness tossed aside<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No longer needed, no longer welcome<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They said that she did not belong<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That her hands would taint and soil the work<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her touch would defile, deface, disfigure<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Those who donned her design<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

They tore her thread from cloth<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her soul from her offering<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Obliterating her opus<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Annihilating her adoration<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And once they’d stepped back<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Admiring the misfortune they’d created<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Its tattered edges, its fraying sides<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A hollow, feeble remnant of what she’d lived, and loved<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Still, they believed<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They’d done the earth a favor<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She was where she belonged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

6. Dehumanization and Stigma<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Portion of photo mural depicting Jewish Auschwitz survivors from Salonika showing their tattooed arms on the third floor of the permanent exhibition at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #N02458. Copyright of United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You’ve said they are not human<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Instead they’re something new<\/p>\n\n\n\n

For they cannot be human<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or favor, they’ll accrue<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You’ve claimed that they are wicked<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A people lost of worth<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if they are not wicked<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Punishment, they don’t deserve<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

You’ve decreed eradication <\/p>\n\n\n\n

An end to all that you see fit<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Denied them humanization<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Seeking to roast them on a spit<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Yet even with the vows you make<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The rules you claim you cannot break<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When needle touches to their skin<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And ink does mark the place therein<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Humanity will surface, too<\/p>\n\n\n\n

You’ll find they bleed the same as you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

7. Terror as Enforcement, Cruelty as a Means of Control<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Detail of the “Terror in Poland” segment, featuring a tree stump in front of a photo of a killing action in Palmiry, on the fourth floor of the permanent exhibition at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #N02408. Copyright of United States Holocaust Memorial Museum.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Does the Earth know?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The loss, the pain, the terror<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Do the deeds of man seep into her soil?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Thick and scarlet<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bathing her, stifling her<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Filling her lungs <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With his brutality, his rage<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2002 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Does the Earth tremble?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the pacing rings out<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As the marches give way<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To obtrusive footprints<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Bitter indentations<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Leaving behind their ill intent<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Does the Earth cry?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As man tears her open<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With spades of steel and rust<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Throws her the corpses of his own<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Does she weep as she holds them?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Enveloping the sufferers<\/p>\n\n\n\n

With the warmest embrace she can find<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Does the Earth wince?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

As he chops down her limbs<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Felling the gift that she’s given<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The air she provides<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The home she creates<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To mark the place<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Where he has left his sins<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

For what a bitter cruelty<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What a potent evil<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Could use the innocent for this?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

8. Inherent Superiority vs Inherent Inferiority<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"
Close-up of Richard Jenne, the last child killed by the head nurse at the Kaufbeuren-Irsee euthanasia facility. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum Photo Archives #78606. Courtesy of National Archives and Records Administration, College Park.<\/em><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

\u2003\u2003\u2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I suppose he\u2019ll never know <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How the sun would fill his soul <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The wind, alive, alight in his eyes <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How the waves crash against the shore <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The spray of the salt gracing him <\/p>\n\n\n\n

How his heart would grow <\/p>\n\n\n\n

With each loving presence <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Each brush of skin <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Each quickened pulse <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And all because <\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a mind, a body, a will <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Same as his own <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That marked him, betrayed him <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Denied him <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gift of knowing. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Human beings typically have one of two reactions upon learning about the horrors and atrocities committed by their fellow man. …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":36275,"featured_media":940,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-936","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-student-work","has-featured-image"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/936","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/36275"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=936"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/936\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":943,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/936\/revisions\/943"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/940"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=936"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=936"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sites.temple.edu\/rockingtheworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=936"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}