Why do I tell Holocaust stories? For a long time, I could not say. I could talk about how these stories resonated with me, but I could not explain why. I could talk about the need to preserve this history and to learn from it, but not why I felt the need to tell these stories aloud. Unlike many other tellers, I have no familial connection to the Holocaust. So why do I tell these stories?

The answer came as I began coaching other storytellers. Many of these tellers have powerful family stories, and I began to wonder how I could really help them. They knew so much more than I ever could about this period of history. Who was I to give them advice?

The more I worked with other tellers, though, the more I thought of events in my own life or my family history that reminded me, on some level, of the stories I was hearing. I had no family that went through the horrors of the Holocaust, but I did have family that came to the U.S. to escape the pogroms of Eastern Europe in the early part of the last century. I had a relative who fought in WWII in Europe. I had faced anti-Jewish hate more than once, and seen others confront it as well. In truth, I realized, such hatred never really went away.

It has been said that we Jews have a collective memory of all the oppression we have suffered as a people throughout the ages, that it is a part of our psyche. Among the most recent of those collective memories are memories – those of the Holocaust – that are terrifying and traumatizing. Every Jew either has a family story or knows someone who does. It makes sense why any Jew would feel some ownership of these stories, and why any person who values equality, decency, and life might find purpose in preserving these stories of the Holocaust and passing them down to future generations.

I know now why I tell Holocaust stories. The history of the Holocaust is a part of who I am, not because I am a descendent, but because I am a Jew and a human being. I tell these stories to counter hate and to educate people. I understand now that I am a voice for our collective Jewish memory, and a part of our collective Jewish resilience and strength.