Reflections from The Anne Frank Huis

Yesterday at 7AM, I found myself standing outside the Anne Frank Huis.. I was there early in anticipation of a long line and because, for me, her home was the most important thing for me to see on my trip.

When I was in middle school, I read The Diary of Anne Frank twice. I had been so fascinated that a girl my own age had spent two years of her life in hiding, struggling with constant fear of discovery, all the while dealing with the same adolescent struggles I faced. As I myself was a young girl who loved writing, I related to the way Anne used the written word to tell her own story. I even remember auditioning for a theater competition by reading monologues from the stage adaptation of her diary. Her story stuck with meas I got older. When I was a senior in high school, I read The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. In the novel, two terminally ill teenagers kiss for the first time while visiting the Anne Frank Huis. I felt called to see this place for myself and to understand how one tiny building could stand so firmly on both fear and hope.

At 9AM, the doors finally opened (we were the first people there) and we entered the museum (my toes were frozen). The museum’s first floor set the scene  and provided an introduction to Anne’s life, death, and legacy through videos and pictures. I then began to make my way through the house itself. I had always imagined that it would be like stepping into Anne’s house as it was before her death, but instead, the rooms were empty. Just after her family was found, their furniture was cleared out. When they turned the house into a museum, Otto Frank (Anne’s father) decided that the furniture shouldn’t be returned. My guidebook explained that this was to represent all that the family lost during the Holocaust. It was jarring and haunting, but it helped touch upon the emptiness and desperation the family and countless others must have felt losing everything.

The attic space had been turned into a museum. There were videos from survivors who knew Anne Frank and talked about what she was like. It was interesting to hear first-hand accounts, and especially testimony from her father who remarked that her diary revealed thoughts  they never knew she had. It made me think about people I know, and I wondered if we all have secret stories inside of us that we keep from the world. The last room in the museum was a collection of Anne Frank’s actual diaries. This was one of the most fascinating parts, to see up close her actual writing- her girly cursive letters about everything from her crushes at school to horror toward the current situation and her hopes and ambitions for the future.

The final part of the Anne Frank Huis was a movie of people discussing the legacy of her life. This was perhaps the most poignant part of the experience. The movie contained so many different perspectives. Nelson Mandela discussed how he read Anne’s diary while in jail to give himself strength. Natalie Portman discussed what it was like to play Anne in the stage adaptation. John Green read passages from The Fault in Our Stars that were set there (just like me the people in charge of the Anne Frank Huis are huge fans of this book). But there were also quotes from random visitors to house, including Anne’s middle school boyfriend  and literature professors and countless others to show the way her story has touched so many. It was here that I began to cry, in awe of the way a young girl’s writing had inspired people all around the world.

It made me think of my own story. I have such privilege to be able to write to you, my loyal and wonderful blog readers, each week. I get to tell my stories and share my thoughts, fears, and hopes. Furthermore, I have the even richer privilege of getting feedback in the emails, comments, and conversations that stem from my blog each week. Tragically, on Earth, Anne never got to see the way her writing would challenge and change the world. The way her own house would go on to be the setting for a new generation of readers to remember to love deeper and treasure each moment. But I believe, that somewhere, Anne is watching. And I hope that she is seeing the way her words have rippled across the world and transformed the lives of others.