Identity and Experience: A Shared History

Until today, I have maintained a great distance from the Holocaust and World War II. I believe this is due to the fact that World War II never really hit home for America. The war was not fought on our physical land. We do not have sites of remembrance or memorials for Holocaust victims. While some may argue that war reached America when Pearl Harbor was bombed, the fighting was separated from the contiguous United States by hundreds of miles of water and its effects on the overall United States as opposed to many European countries were minimal. In short, due to the distance between the United States and the horrors that occurred in Europe, my understanding of this time period has been limited to representations.

Visiting the Anne Frank House and the Secret Annex, therefore, is an experience unprecedented in my life. It was an emotional experience unlike any other to walk into the hiding place that remains a part of such an important history. And then I realized, this particular story, this individual building, is only a fraction of the history. The director of the museum touched upon this idea, as did Professor Dewulf before we entered the house so it provided me with something to think about as I walked. Once inside, I thought a lot about the manner in which the museum presented its information. Everything inside was protected by glass, a thick clear glass that served as a sad reminder that no matter how close I got to the items, to the history before me, I was still very much separate from it. In all honesty I don't know what could be done to change this, as these items do need protection in order to preserve the history for later generations, and I wonder if such a change is necessary at all.

In all, the glass provided a new experience in which I was made aware of my own identity, in contrast to my constant search for characteristics of the Dutch identity, and I saw myself for once as an outsider in relation this country and its history. I am a mere viewer, not having participated or shared in this history. After seeing the house for myself and contemplating what it means to me, I understand Humphrey Delacroix's point of identity being comprised of a shared history. Throughout the experience, the glass served as a reminder of the museum setting and my role as a tourist in it. After partaking in this experience, I wonder if other tourists felt similarly or if this feeling is merely a singular case. No matter, it provided a new and interesting perspective of self. Once outside, I observed the hordes of people lining up to enter the house and I saw myself in each of them, the observer, the enthusiast, the outsider. I doubt, but wonder nonetheless, whether any of the members of this line were Dutch.

Sophia