Louise Lawrence-Israëls: My name is Louise Lawrence-Israëls.
I'm a Holocaust survivor and Museum volunteer.
My country the, Netherlands, was invaded
and occupied by the Nazis in May 1940.
Almost immediately, antisemitic laws were enacted,
and Jewish businesses were confiscated,
including my family's thriving textile business.
All valuables owned by Jews had to be handed to the Nazis as well.
The nice life that my parents had was abruptly terminated.
I was born in 1942, in Haarlem, just before the deportations of
Jews from the Netherlands to the death camps in Poland began.
When I was 6-month-old, we received orders to relocate to Amsterdam.
It was there, to escape deportation, that my father, with help from
the Dutch resistance, secured a secret hiding place for us.
Our family was provided false documents with
new identities by the Dutch resistance.
I received a new name, Maria, which I had till I was almost 3-years-old.
My dad, mom, and my brother and I, along with a family friend,
went into hiding in a storage attic in the middle of Amsterdam.
Only a couple of members of the Dutch
resistance knew we were hiding there.
The attic had a toilet with a small sink with only cold running water.
There was no kitchen.
It was important to bring in the right things when we moved in because
my father only left the attic to bring back food or medicine.
Bringing back anything else might have
called attention to where we were.
Mattresses for the adults, and my brother,
and a crib for me, as many warm blankets and clothing,
a camping stove to heat water or to cook,
some pots and pans and utensils.
There was a table and chairs, a broken sofa,
and a cupboard already stored in the attic.
My father was always thinking ahead,
and he brought a lot of scrap paper,
pencils, and crayons with him.
He figured that they would have to keep my brother and I busy.
We didn't know how long we would be living that way.
We were often hungry and cold in the winters.
But my brother and I did not know any better.
My parents always gave us something to eat before we went to bed.
Sometimes, my brother and I shared a cracker.
My parents always saved something for us, even if they had to go hungry.
At times, my father was able to barter for food and other necessities,
like medicine, through the resistance.
My father had some small art collections stored with
trusted friends that he used to barter with.
My parents did not talk about the outside world with us,
thinking that if we did not know what went on outside,
we would not ask questions, and would not be frightened.
For us children, living in an attic was normal.
We did have some frightening moments, but our
parents were always with us to comfort us.
We were homeschooled using the paper and the pencils that
my father had brought with him, all in the form of play.
As a result, I could read by the time we were liberated.
However, when we were first able to leave our hiding place,
we were so afraid of the outside world, a world that we didn't know.
When Canadian soldiers, who liberated us in May 1945, gave us
Hershey bars and we tasted chocolate for the first time,
my brother was not afraid anymore.
He wanted more chocolate, even if that meant going outside.
For my parents there was but one thought during
the horrible years of Nazi occupation--
trying to keep their two children safe.
Although we were able to rebuild our lives after the war,
my parents continued to worry about our safety,
always fearing that something terrible would happen again.
Over time, and through my volunteer work at the Museum,
I learned that the Holocaust started with a four-letter word, hate.
As the number of Holocaust survivors dwindles,
we need everybody's help to tell the world
what happens when we let hatred win.
Hatred against people who have a different religion,
a different skin color,
different language, or a different way of dressing.
Genocide never stopped after the Holocaust.
Think about Cambodia, Bosnia, Rwanda, Darfur, and Syria,
the Rohingya people in Burma, and the Uyghurs in China.
This history must be told so that people will be inspired
to make different choices and ensure it is not repeated.
We survivors are counting on you,
on you to carry our message forward into the future.
Thank you.