“I rest in ease, knowing there are others out there, whispering themselves to sleep, just like me.” ― Charlotte Eriksson
I am the son of Holocaust survivors. My mother was a German Jew, a refugee in Netherlands spending her teen years in hiding, then a refugee in the United States. Her family had means and connections. My father’s father was a survivor of the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp and a refugee in Switzerland, then the United States. He had means and connections. They were both welcomed into this country.
I am a straight white American man living in Boston with my immediate family nearby. I have everything I want and need. I am safe. I am cared for. I can’t conceive of the lives of today’s 65 million refugees. What I heard about my ancestors’ experiences are not comparable to today’s refugees. Belonging is fundamental to anyone’s health and well-being. My parents worked so hard to belong. My bones know that I belong. By example, they taught me to stand welcoming at the threshold – any threshold. My children and siblings and their families stand welcoming at the threshold. We are all stronger and safer for it. #IamAMuslim.