First they came for the immigrants, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not an immigrant.

Then they came for the LGBTQ community, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a part of the LGBTQ community.

Then they came for the Muslims, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Muslim.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

(A contemporary twist on Martin Niemöller’s “First They Came for the Socialists…”)

I tick off some of the above boxes. I am sure many of you reading this tick off a number of others. In the end, though, which categories you do or do not identify with does not matter. We are all human. Why should a label or lack thereof rob us of our empathy?

This past week I attended a life-affirming, freedom-asserting vigil for the victims of the Charlottesville attack. My arms ached holding up my sign and my eyes strained to read the lips of each speaker, but midway through the vigil, I felt a sudden rush of strength. Standing near me, shoulders squared at the front of the diverse crowd, was a Holocaust survivor, Ida. I watched her shake her head in horror as a local rabbi recounted current events that are all too familiar. She has seen this before. It is on us to ensure she never sees it again.

The attack in Charlottesville is not an isolated incident. This past weekend, white supremacists marched in various cities all over the country. Counterprotesters appeared on the scene, standing as a reminder that there are more hopeful voices speaking out. Their presence, while inspiring, does not erase the fact that neo-Nazis, Klansmen, white supremacists, and a score of other labels for people who promote hate have been taking to the streets. According to many sources, they have already taken to the White House.

Congresswoman Jan Schakowsky mentioned at the vigil that a member or President Trump's staff has been known to wear a swastika. Not a neo-Nazi symbol. Not an obscure white supremacist symbol. He pins the symbol of a group responsible for the deaths of over eleven million civilians, murdered on the grounds of ethnic cleansing. We swear to never let that happen again, but we must then not overlook signs of repetition staring us unabashedly in the face.

Write letters (Ida told me she plans to). Sign petitions. Organize and attend rallies. Stand up. Speak out. We are all part of the same world, all responsible for one another. If they come for any of us, they come for us all.