It’s not every day that you sit in a room with people from Jordan, Syria, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Morocco and Bahrain, along with American imams, American Jews and Israeli Jews. But that’s exactly what Sharaka makes possible.
More than just an NGO, Sharaka is a movement of people-to-people diplomacy, connecting brave, moderate voices across borders and breaking stereotypes. It brings together those willing to listen, learn and see humanity in one another. Simply put, Sharaka made me believe in something I once thought was impossible. And now, I can’t stop talking about it because this is the kind of hope the world desperately needs.
Seven years ago, I made myself a promise: I would not let the stories of Holocaust survivors die with them. I vowed to do everything in my power to educate others to preserve the memory of those who were murdered, and to honor the lives of those who survived.
But as I began this journey, I noticed something that troubled me.
The urgency of Holocaust education seemed to live mostly within the Jewish community, especially among descendants of survivors. And while we feel a deep responsibility to carry this history forward, we are just 0.2% of the world’s population. The burden of “Never Again” cannot rest solely on our shoulders.
I began to wonder, when the survivors are gone, will anyone else care? Will the Holocaust become just another chapter in a textbook, a faded photograph in a museum, a name etched in stone that no one stops to read?
Sharaka turned my worry into hope. It brought a diverse group of people to march together in Auschwitz as part of the March of the Living, and with that, Sharaka changed my perspective. They came to learn about history, not just as bystanders, but as active participants in understanding and confronting one of humanity’s darkest chapters.
Many of them had never been taught about the Holocaust. For some, it was either completely absent from their education or twisted by disinformation. And yet, they came with open minds and hearts to listen, to question, to engage in dialogue, to coexist.
They came to bring light into a world too often overwhelmed by darkness.
A participant from Pakistan said the experience left him shocked that Holocaust education had never been part of his curriculum. The Moroccans shared how they were inspired by the actions of their king, King Mohammed V, during the Holocaust, and how it serves as a reminder. The Syrians realized the power of dialogue and connection across religious divides. The Jordanian participant moved me as he promised to share this message with as many people back home as possible. Together, they took on the very mission I made for myself years ago: To spread the importance of Holocaust education around the world.
Together, this group walked the streets of Berlin, learning about the past. They stood at the Wannsee House, where the Nazi’s Final Solution was planned. Then, side by side with thousands from around the world, they marched from Auschwitz to Birkenau.
An African-American imam walked beside a sheik from Morocco, a journalist from Afghanistan, a man from Syria, someone from Pakistan and a Jew whose family was murdered in Auschwitz and who was paying her respects for the first time.
The participants stepped into a place of unimaginable darkness, unaware of how much light they themselves were bringing with each step, each conversation, each act of solidarity. Light that needs to spread.
There are people working hard to divide us, to convince the world that brave voices like these don’t exist. But they do. Moderate voices in the Middle East are growing. They are ready to march with us. They are ready to confront antisemitism in their own communities. They are ready to change the future.
But they need your belief, too.
And I know it’s hard. I know hope is fragile. But as I walked out of Auschwitz, I saw a group of students singing Ani Ma’amin, “I believe,” and then students from another country joined in, and then a group from Israel, and then I saw non-Jewish members of my group humming the same tune.
Because Ani Ma’amin—I believe this is possible and you need to believe, too.
Alyssa Annis is the Holocaust education program manager at Sharaka.
