On the occasion of #WorldBookDay, I would like to share my thoughts on a very special book that has been a vital part of my growing up years. If there is any book which leaves you depressed and full of life at the same time, it has to be The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank. It was her personal diary where she wrote everyday details of her two years in hiding from the Nazis. She started writing with a beautiful note. The diary literally became her confidante whom she would call Kitty in future.
When I first read the book I was in high school. It was during one of my history assignments on the Holocaust and the World War II that I came across her name. When I bought the book and started reading it, I realized it was not just a typical teen girl’s diary. The reason why her journals became world famous, was the exact reason why I felt a connection with her right then. Surprisingly, I’m not over it! She wrote about how she lived with another family and a bachelor as old as his father. The hideout was given the name Secret Annexe. The details are so personal yet profound that it will really baffle the reader and wonder how she could be so innocent and mature at the same time. She talked about her daily observations about the other members, her love for languages, Greek mythology and history. Her take on politics was not a positive one as she was not particularly a fan of it given their then current situation. Her entries were very particular with the exact date.
Besides the everyday struggles, Anne also talks about herself in major amounts. In an entry dated January 6, 1944, she confesses about her changing body, her sexuality and about her mother. She says,
“I imagine a mother as a woman who, first and foremost, possesses a great deal of tact, especially toward her adolescent children, and not one who, like Momsy (her nickname for her mom), pokes fun at me when I cry. Not because I’m in pain, but because of other things.” – Anne Frank
Upon reading this, I feel the same way. Mother-daughter relationships are complicated, and it’s never easy when one party expects certain things of another. I’m sure that Anne’s mother had expectations of her as well, ones that were not met. Because of their different personalities, they clashed, much in the same way that I do with mine. On the contrary she adored her father and they shared a precious bond where she received all the attention she thought she deserved.
Her last entry breaks my heart.
Anne Frank was a gem who lived an unfortunate short life of 15 years. But her diary is now a pivotal source of information about the Holocaust and how the ostracized group of people survived during the War.
Anne, keep shining!