Seeing Auschwitz taught me much, and changed me

Before going to Auschwitz, history felt distant to me. I had learned about the Holocaust in textbooks and documentaries, but it existed in black and white photos. I thought I understood it. I didn’t realize how much would change once I stood there myself.

The moment I walked through the gates last summer, everything felt heavier. The air was quiet in a way I had never experienced before, as if the place itself was holding its breath. Seeing the words “Arbeit Macht Frei” above the entrance made me feel sick. It was no longer just a phrase from a lesson; it was real, and it stood above the same path where so many had walked, terrified and powerless.

What affected me most was realizing how young many of the victims were. Some were my age or even younger. I kept thinking about how unfair it was that their lives were taken before they had the chance to dream, fall in love, or grow up. As a 16-year-old, I often worry about school, friendships and my future. Standing in Auschwitz made those worries feel small, and it forced me to appreciate freedoms I usually take for granted.

Seeing the personal belongings, shoes, suitcases and hair made the Holocaust feel deeply personal. Each item belonged to someone who had a name, a family, a story. It made me understand that this wasn’t just about millions of deaths, but about millions of individual lives stolen. I felt sadness, anger and disbelief that humans could do this to other humans.

Auschwitz also changed how I see responsibility. I realized how dangerous hatred, discrimination and silence can be. The Holocaust didn’t start with gas chambers; it started with words, with exclusion — and with people choosing not to speak up. I’m more aware of injustice in the world today and more determined not to ignore it.

When I left Auschwitz, I wasn’t the same person who entered. I felt more mature, more aware and more grateful for my life. The visit taught me empathy in a way no classroom ever could. It reminded me that remembering the past is not just about honoring those who died, but about protecting the future.

Going to Auschwitz with CTeen, the world’s largest Jewish teen network, didn’t just teach me history; it taught me humanity. And as a 16-year-old, that lesson will stay with me for the rest of my life. It has instilled in me an urgency to stand up for what is right, and to look for our Jewish community and bring more light into the world.

Silence is complacency. That is true today, on International Holocaust Remembrance Day, and always.

After returning from Poland, I began to hear something stir inside me, a quiet but persistent voice. A Jewish voice. Mine.

For a long time, my Jewishness was cultural, reserved for holidays, family gatherings or the occasional debate about bagels. Something changed when I started to feel that being Jewish wasn’t just about rituals or heritage, but moral responsibility.

I realized that having a Jewish voice means holding grief and hope in the same breath. It means carrying generations of trauma and still choosing life, joy and each other.

It means knowing our history deeply, not to live in the past, but to illuminate the present. To remind the world that we have been here before — and we rose.

Today, my Jewish voice is not just about defending my identity. It’s about speaking out against all forms of hate, because we know too well where silence can lead.

This guest essay reflects the views of Alexa Roth, of Stony Brook, a senior at Ward Melville High School and a CTeen leader at Village Chabad Stony Brook.