Hadassah

the report

As we sat there in that small, cramped living room, the news anchor's voice cut through the air like a knife. My stomach dropped as the next headline flashed across the screen:

"New mandate: All Jewish families are required to display a visible Star of David on their homes and wear a star on their clothing while in public."

I felt my heart pounding. Dad’s hand flew to his mouth, eyes widening, his whole body tensing as the words sank in. Pops was gripping the back of the chair, his knuckles white. I could see the shock and anger in his face, but he looked almost... resigned.

Dad's breathing was fast, like he couldn’t catch it, his gaze darting around the room as if searching for something, anything, that could make this not true. "They... they can’t do this. They can’t make us wear stars like that." His voice cracked, a mixture of disbelief and fear. "This is—this is insane. How is this happening?”

Pops put a hand on Dad’s shoulder, his expression somber but steady. "They can, and they are," he said quietly, each word heavy. "This isn’t new. I've seen it before, too many times."

I looked at Pops, seeing something in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. A weight, a deep sadness that came from knowing more than he was saying. "What do you mean?" I asked, though I was almost afraid of the answer.

Pops let out a long, shaky breath, looking straight at me. "It’s what they did back then too, Haddie. In another time, to people just like us. Forced to wear stars, to be marked. They called us out, separated us... and worse." He paused, his voice thick with something I couldn’t name, but it made my chest feel tight. "It starts like this. Little by little."

Dad's eyes were wet, and he gripped Pops’s hand so tightly his knuckles turned white. "But we swore never again," he whispered, almost like he was talking to himself. "We said we’d never let this happen again."

Pops nodded, his eyes fixed on the screen. "We did. But here we are."

The room fell silent. It felt like the walls were closing in, the weight of those words crushing us. My head was spinning, trying to process it all. Stars on our doors, stars on our clothes—like we were nothing more than marks, symbols, something to be identified and separated.

“We’re not putting that on our door,” Dad said suddenly, his voice shaky but defiant. “We won’t... we won’t be marked like that.”

Pops squeezed his hand. "They can make us wear their stars, but they can’t take who we are. They’ll never understand that." He looked at me and Dad, his voice low and fierce. "No matter what, we keep our heads high. We stay strong. They can’t take our spirit, Haddie."

As the news continued, another announcement flashed on the screen, and I felt my stomach twist even tighter.

"Effective immediately, Jewish children are no longer permitted to attend public or private schools. Alternative arrangements must be made by families."

The words hit me like a punch. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t believe what I was hearing. School—my friends, my classes, my routine, my world—just... gone. Just like that.

Dad was shaking his head, his face pale. "This can’t be happening," he whispered, his voice breaking. "They’re... they’re taking everything from us."

Pops put an arm around him, but I could see the sadness in his eyes, the helplessness. "It’s real, and it’s happening," he said quietly. "They’re trying to strip away everything that makes us feel normal, feel human."

"But... school?" I managed to say, my voice trembling. "They won’t even let us go to school?"

Pops sighed, looking down. "They don’t want us to be a part of their world, Haddie. They want to push us out, make us feel like we don’t belong. They want us to be afraid."

Dad's face crumpled, and he held me close. "You deserve to learn, to have a future... to just be a kid. But they don’t care about any of that."