Celebrating Women I: Anne Frank

It’s not for nothing that my blog is called ‘A Bundle Of Contradictions’.

That phrase, dear reader, was first coined by a teenage girl, who was hiding from xenophobic oppressors. 

A teenage girl, who unwittingly became the face of the victims of Holocaust.

A teenage girl, who the world knows as Anne Frank. 

***

The picture was taken at an exhibition dedicated to Anne in Delhi

Anne Frank was a bright thirteen-year-old Jewish girl in Holland. Born to a loving family, she had a huge group of friends and was admired by many of her male classmates. She’d have birthday parties, go out with her girl gang and bicker with her studious elder sister.

If she wasn’t doing that, she’d be writing in her diary, talking about all things sundry.

Yet, little did she know that her life would change completely, a few short weeks after her thirteenth birthday. 

One fine day, Anne’s sister, Margot, got a call to join a Labour Camp.

And in the German occupied Holland of that time, such a call only meant one thing…

Death.

Without wasting any time, Anne’s father, Otto Frank, took the entire family and went into hiding. A couple of months later, they were joined in by their family friends, the van Pels family and Fritz Pfeffer.

It was during this period when Anne really started writing her diary.

The picture was taken at an exhibition dedicated to her in Delhi

With vivid intensity, she started describing everything that transpired in her life. She spoke about her fears and anxieties. She wrote endlessly about her dreams and ambitions to be a writer. Giddly, she talked about her budding romance with Peter van Pels and her experiments with her sexuality. Wistfully, she also wrote about limited access of the outside world and how she wished to go out, just for one more time.

Her diary wasn’t just a diary anymore. It was her true friend.

As the Second World War raged on, calls came on the radio… calls for publishing stories, letters and diaries, for historical evidence.

When Anne heard this announcement, she got really excited. This was her chance!

Without dawdling about, she got to work. She started re-writing her own diary, worked on improving it and waited, with bated breath, for the war to end.

Unfortunately, she didn’t live long to see the war end.

Thanks to a rotten soul deservedly burning in the deepest pits of hell, Anne’s family, the van Pels and Fritz Pfeffer were caught by the Gestapo and immediately arrested. From there, they were divided and deported to different concentration camps.

Anne ended up dying in the Bergen Belsen concentration camp of typhus, a few weeks after her elder sister, Margot did. She died thinking that she had no one left in the world.

Her mother, Edith, had died in Auschwitz, collecting morsels for her sick daughters till her last breath.

As for her father?

Anne thought her father would be the first to die.

Yet, luckily or unluckily, Otto Frank had survived the concentration camps. 

And he was left with his daughter’s most prized possession – her diary. Respecting her wishes, he decided to publish it as The Diary Of A Young Girl.

And the rest, is history.

***

Till today, Anne’s story was one of the most profound accounts I’ve read.

As a eleven-year-old, it opened up my eyes about the cataclysmic horror that was the Holocaust. It made me realize how, humanity could sometimes, stoop to an all-time dastardly low too.

Also, I really, truly connected with Anne. Both of us had a sliver of a connection with our ancestral lands, but truly loved the cities we grew up in. I was chirpy, like her, though a lot more geekier and devoid of male admirers (that I know of). Plus, there was the fact that we both really loved to write.

However, what resonates with me the most is Anne’s way of coping.

Anne was a young girl, who was living in the worst era of xenophobia in modern history. Everywhere she looked around, she was faced with discrimination and segregation. If it wasn’t just that, there was entire genocidal system in place, waiting to kill people of her faith, who didn’t ascribe to some asinine laws of racial purity.

But she refused to let this negativity get to her. She coped with the anxiety and the trauma through journalling.

Instead of bottling everything up, she wrote. She talked about her issues with her mother openly. She talked about all the petty fights she’d have with Mrs. van Pels and Mr. Pfeffer (who she wickedly called as Mr. Dussel, which is German for ‘Mr. Idiot’). She openly wrote about her anxiety towards the way world was heading and how she longed to be out in the open, instead of being cooped up.

I think the very fact that she expressed every last bit of her emotions and thoughts was why she stayed an optimist until the very end. Which is also probably why, I think she was capable of saying this:

“In spite of everything, I still believe that people are truly good at heart.”

For me, this way of dealing with so much anguish truly seemed… therapeutic. While I was reading her diary, I was going through some really bad setbacks personally. And Anne’s diary was what prompted me to properly start maintaining diaries.

It’s been around eleven years since I started being a diarist. Not only has it made me a better writer, it has also helped me deal with the shit I went through, without going all Kung Fu Panda on someone.

***

Instead of bottling everything up, letting it out is sometimes the best way to let go of the anguish in this world.

Think about it. 

This world is full of people who keep their thoughts and emotions and choke on it until their breaking point… and end up being toxic.

I’m not saying that we should cry our hearts out to some random person. I agree, with as much pragmatism I can muster in my otherwise naïve mind, that some things need to be a secret.

But you can always express those secrets out to yourself, right?

True strength isn’t about keeping a poker face, while keeping your true emotions aside.

True strength is about successfully dealing with your emotions and coming out as a better person, no matter what.

And Anne, dear reader, exemplified that strength.

This is what young Indian kids think of Anne!
The picture was taken at an exhibition dedicated to her in Delhi

***

March is the Women’s History Month. To talk about the legacy of women across the world and their stories, I’m starting an initiative called ‘Celebrating Women’. You can read more about it here.

Hope you found Anne’s story inspiring.

Stay awesome as ever,

Much love,

Archie <3