by Karly Grossman When he was three years old, my grandfather boarded a ship in Rotterdam with his mother and three older sisters, along with over 600 other passengers, many of whom - like my family - were fleeing violence, persecution, and poverty. His father had already established a household for the family in the U.S., and the family was to be reunited upon their arrival. Shortly into the journey, a fire broke out and quickly spread through the entire the ship. Well over a hundred passengers died, but nine other ships were able to help rescue the other 500+ from the inferno. (The burning ship eventually sank.) During the chaotic rescue process, my grandfather became separated from his mother and sisters, ending up on a different ship from the one that rescued the rest of his family. A first-class passenger cared for him and two other children who’d been also separated for the remainder of the trip, but he was so traumatized, confused, and out of his element that he refused (or, more accurately, was unable) to speak. He was given the nickname “William the Silent” because no one knew his real name, to whom he belonged, or if his family had survived the fire. It took quite a bit of time, as well as a lot of assistance from several organizations for Jewish immigrants, but he was eventually “found” by his very persistent father and reunited with his family. The trauma from this separation was unmistakable, though, and not only in the clear manifestation of my grandfather’s silence. My great-grandmother, having believed since the fire & separation that her son had died, suffered a steep and serious decline in her mental health, eventually being institutionalized for decades. Other lasting effects were more subtle, but there is no questioning that this stayed with everyone involved for the rest of their lives. Children separated from their parents, particularly in already traumatic circumstances, will universally feel a kind of fear, desperation, confusion, and shock that no human being should ever have to endure. When it happens due to a terrible accident and good people pour in to help those impacted, it’s upsetting to witness, and the trauma is real, but it is not malicious. When our own government makes a concerted effort to perpetrate such abuse against children and families (in our names), it is the equivalent of purposely setting the ship on fire and removing the lifeboats and fire hoses. Who does the SOS signal go to when it’s the “helpers” who are creating the crisis? (Oh...right...it’s us.) {About this photo: This incident occurred in 1913, one year after the Titanic sank, and it was a big national story. A photograph of my grandfather (left) with the two other rescued children was reprinted in all kinds of publications, and the trio became the faces of a story that pulled at American’s heartstrings for several weeks. Looking at my grandfather’s tiny face, seeing that sadness, knowing what shock he was experiencing, makes me tear up - every time, without fail.} Karly Grossman is an activist and attorney who brings an intersectional approach to her advocacy for the rights of frequently marginalized and mistreated communities. Her areas of interest include healthcare, harm reduction, disability rights, LGBTQ rights, racial justice and criminal justice reform. She is a resident of Maple Shade, NJ.
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