WWES – What Would Eva Say?

I attended the pubic memorial for Eva Moses Kor, a woman who ended up in Auschwitz with her 10yr old twin sister. She was 1 of 20 twins who Joesph Mingle experimented on. She saw her Mother and Father and older siblings taken away. They did not survive. She and her sister did when the camp was liberated by the Russians.

I was also there to hear from Eva from beyond on how to deal with my own forgiveness. Her light passed onto me for me to pass on to someone else.

Eva eventually married and moved to Terre Haute Indiana. While living there and working as a realtor and raising her children, she was bullied by white hatred and her small Holocaust museum was burned. Eva’s horrific experience at Auschwitz pushed her on a campaigner to local papers and networks to try to find if Mingle was still alive. Life was hard for her in the 70’s. Writing day in and day out to get someone to hear her story. One day a journalist took the chance with Eva. Soon, her story had become an international movement to find Mingle. Later they determined they had found his body and no he was not living.

I wonder about all the rage you’d feel toward a monster like Mingle who was actually an extremely smart doctor, but without a soul. The test twins were treated differently than the rest as they were “lab specimens.” They needed them to stay alive.

Eva’s one way of not losing her humanity was the fact she was there with her sister. Seeing each other reminded them they were alive. That there still was humanity if not just through the eyes of your sister.

Later in life Eva rebuilt her museum. School groups started coming. Interviews. TV. She traveled back and forth to Auschwitz several times a year with school groups and adults.

Forgiving is  such a gray area. You can forgive your husband for not calling or forgive they guy who yells racial slurs, but radical forgiveness, what is that? I guess it means to imagine the worst thing someone could do and then forgive them for it. I guess you’d have to go through it to have that thought of trying to forgive. Eve decided for her own health and state of mind, she was going to reach down deep and forgive the Nazis. For herself. For her own soul to be free.

Many people of Jewish faith were appalled. I can totally relate to anyone who says they will never forgive the Nazis. I can’t relate totally to their pain but I would probably not be able to forgive. I think whatever your views on it, we can agree she tried to save herself from the hell of losing your family and becoming an experiment. Hard. Very hard.

Her message was “for only herself” she would state. I’m not here to tell anyone how to grieve this horrible history.  Rabbi Michael Berenbaum, is an American scholar, professor, rabbi, writer, and filmmaker, who specializes in the study of the Holocaust.

spoke at Eva’s memorial. He was featured in the documentary Eva A-7063. There were Jewish survivors that were interviewed in film. They were very against the message Eva was spreading. For good reason. Berenbaum spoke at the podium with Eva’s picture behind him when he said “Eva and I might not have agreed on everything, but the Bible says to forgive, but we Jewish never forget.” I was trying to cry silently like many others in the hall. It was tragic and so freeing because of her love for chicken nuggets.

I was mesmerized listening to him speak. It was moving as he stated Eva was to give an address in January she can’d deliver now. He said Eva’s message was to make sure this never happens again and to educate children on what hate and lack of tolerance can’t do. Because of her passing her message needs to live on.

She helped mandate Holocaust education in Indiana State Schools.

Gov. Holcomb spoke a great deal about Eva. They had become close friends. He said when he thinks of Eva, he thinks about the lyrics to the Beach Boys song “Good Vibrations.” That is what she made him feel. “I even had a little crush on her.” he said.

I was so moved during the memorial. We laughed at how much moxy and feisty this 4’7″ woman was. She was not afraid to speak her truth. She was not broken by something so horrific that none of us can actually imagine so she is and was an inspiration to many. Especially with the children. She shined in her wardrobe of blue clothes. She for me, makes me feel, if Eva can get through that, I can get through this.

Eva Kor’s Life Lessons

1 Never, ever give up

2. Prevent prejudice by judging people only on their actions and content of character.

3. Forgive your worst enemy. It will heal your soul and set you free.

4. Each of us has a wonderful mind that can help repair the world. Be the change you want to see.

We were given small light sticks to be used at the end of the memorial. From the stage someone said

“It’s now time for the light sticks.

…………………….You must break the stick to see the light.”

My friend Jennifer and I turned to each other at exactly the same time.

Breaking first. It was profound.

The sticks were bioluminisent blue.

Just like Eva. Shine on wild child.

 

Oppressed For No Reason At All

“I am tired, and I am angry. I am tired because for my entire life racism and bigotry has maintained a presence in my country and my life. I am angry because I am tired. Rest is not an option. Relenting is not an option. Accepting is not an option. Hate is not an option. Education is the only option.

1964 – Lyndon Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act in 1964. I was 7 years old. I grew up in a middle class black neighborhood in Gary, Indiana. I remember watching the announcement on my parents black and white television. I had never heard of Jim Crow laws. I had no idea there were separate bathrooms, water fountains and schools for blacks and whites in the South. I remember hearing the story from my father about how he quit the baseball team at the University of Cincinnati because they were scheduled to play Kentucky in Lexington. Kentucky would not play a team with black players, so he was told he could not make the trip. He quit the team. I am proud of my father for that, as well as countless other reasons. We were always taught to never make excuses. Neither he nor anyone else in our family ever uttered the words that we couldn’t do something because of our skin color. My father was the first black executive at Inland Steel Company in East Chicago, IN which was the largest steel making plant in North America. He was told he deserved the promotion much earlier, but the company was not ready for a “Negro” executive. My father said instead of the “thank you sir” that was expected, he replied that all did was restrict the type of college his sons could go to and what type of home he could buy.

1968 – Martin Luther King was assassinated in 1968. In that same bedroom, on that same black and white TV I remember my mother crying as she watched the story unfold. There was no anger just profound sadness. The riots that occurred afterwards were terrifying to me. It was summer, so sunset came late. I went to bed at 8:30 and laid in my bed terrified that the riots would come to my house.

1972 – I went to Bishop Noll High School in Hammond Indiana. I was one of approximately 20 black students in a student body of maybe 600. We all got along well. Never any issues. The first time racism really hit me in the face was my freshman year. I was on the JV football team and we played Merrillville High School. They were a power, and it was an all white school. The football team had 5 black players. After the game we were walking back to the bus. Their fans were line up in the stands. They threw garbage at us while shouting “get out of here niggers”.

1974 – Regional Tournament during the high school baseball playoffs. We were play Tri-County, a rural all white team. I was the only black player on our baseball team. I came in to pitch in relief in the 7th inning of a tie game. Immediately from the dugout I hear “hey jungle bunny” “N….” , and everything in between. I gave up a home run and we lost the game. My Dad came to the dugout. I was crying. My Dad was not happy with me for crying. Man up, you win some you lose some. It was the only time I ever cried after losing a game. I never wanted to win a game so badly. I was crying because I wanted to beat their words on the field. My coach was extremely angry. He wrote letters to their school and to the Indiana High School Athletic Association. He got no apology, no response. That’s just the way it is.
1975 – American Legion Baseball Tournament – I played for Post 266 which was East Chicago Washington’s American Legion team. We were a mostly black team and we played LaPorte in Michigan City on a hot summer night. I was pitching, and similar to the year before, every racial taunt imaginable was coming from their dugout. I had experienced this before. This time I kept my focus. My teammates were not so forgiving. Bats were grabbed by both teams. I thought there was going to be a riot on the field. Two players shook hand after that game their shortstop and myself. 3 months later I report to my dorm room at Butler University. In walks another freshman baseball player, Ken Shead, the player I shook hands with. We ended up being best friends and co-captains of the Butler University baseball team.

1977 – My college dorm was right next to a fraternity. I had many teammates that belonged to this fraternity, and frequented many parties. At 7:30 one morning I was looking out the window. There were about four 7-8 year old black kids walking to school. Two frat members were yelling out of their window at them “hey little niggers”. I was angry. I raced out my door and called them down. “What’s up with saying that to them? What did they do to you? What do you say about me when I’m not around?” The response I got was “you’re different”. What! I said I’m not different. That’s bull…. I never set foot in there again. I am no different.

1978 – A great moment. One of my best friends from college and I attended a George Clinton and the Mothership Connection concert at Market Square Arena in Indianapolis. After the show, he said “man Mitch, now I know how you feel”. He was the only white person I remember seeing at the show. I hadn’t realized how that fact never crossed my mind.

2006 – About 5pm I’m driving on the highway during rush hour around St. Louis on my way Kansas City to shoot a festival. I pass a police car sitting in the median along with a pack of cars. A mile further, the lights go on and I’m pulled over. I said I wasn’t speeding and asked why I was pulled over. They said no you weren’t speeding. They said I looked “suspicious”. Do you have a gun? Have you ever been arrested? Where are you going? All asked 5 different ways. After searching my car and an hour’s worth of interrogation the “good” cop says to the “bad” cop “let’s let him go. He’s one of the good ones”.

2007 – I’m in a parking lot in Louisville, KY. I pass a pickup truck with 2 teenage boys and I hear “hey nigger” screamed at me as I pass. I snapped. I spun my car around and blocked their truck. I asked why did you say that? You don’t know me. What’s your problem? All I could think of was my sons. I did not want somebody saying that to them. My language was a little more colorful. I did not want those kids to think that you can get away with saying that without a challenge. I guess I looked crazy enough. They said they were sorry.

This is a very small sampling of stories. This is part of the foundation of my life. There are countless stories from 1977 to today of different episodes of unwarranted and demeaning police stops and racial insults. There are headlines in the news of black people being killed today for the same things I and other black people have experienced our entire lives. It is not new. It is not “worse” as some would like you to believe. It unfortunately is the same. It’s just now being talked about a bit more.

This is not a whine nor a complaint and certainly not an excuse. It is an acknowledgement that for those who think everyone has the same obstacles to overcome, you should talk to someone that has different experiences than yourself.

There is a reason for the anger. This is one of the good stories.”

Steve Mitchell

Indianapolis, IN

(My friend who knows about oppression for no reason at all)