Breaking the Silence: The Neglected Narratives of Women During War
By Katya Kauth
On the night of June 10, 1942, in the quaint town of Lidice in what is now the Czech Republic, tragedy struck as Nazis invaded and wreaked havoc upon the town. Anti-fascist resistance had been growing in occupied Bohemia and following the murder of Reinhard Heydrich, Chief of the Reich Security Main Office[1], there was increased suspicion that his assassination was linked to the Horák family living in Lidice[2]. Hitler, aiming to make an example out of Lidice, made the town his next target. Nazi soldiers were instructed to shoot all men over 16, round up the women and send them to the Ravensbrück Concentration Camp, and assemble the children into two categories; those who were suitable for Germanization and those who were not[3]. The children deemed not suitable, including infants, were sent to a concentration camp or murdered in gas chambers. The Nazis then proceeded to flatten the city, wiping Lidice off the map.
When we visited Lidice, we were told that 173 men died while 143 women and only 17 children survived[4]. These statistics haunted me. I could not shake the everlasting misery, sorrow, and grief the women of Lidice had endured after losing their children, husbands, and families, and how utterly absent their stories were throughout the museum and memorial. Lidice for me was formative for my own research on how women are represented in former war zones. The visit to Lidice highlighted the ways in which women’s experiences are regularly overlooked and underrepresented in the recounting of war. Throughout our travels across Central Europe, I have observed a similar pattern where women’s experiences are underrepresented and left untold. Their role as providers and supporters are visible, yet the unfathomable trauma war inflicted on their lives both during and after conflict is overlooked.
One of the reasons why, perhaps, the suffering of women of Lidice is unremembered is that the women themselves chose not write much about their experiences during the war and their grief. In 1967, Henry Kamm, a reporter for the New York Times wrote that the women preferred that their experiences remained unknown and unspoken about. Speaking with a woman survivor of the Lidice Massacre, Mrs. Zizkova told him, “I don’t want to be looked at as a miracle of survival[5].” Mrs. Zizkova, however, did admit that the women discussed the massacre within their community, when their conversations drifted to dark times[6].
We learned during our tour that archival sources exist that point to the particular nature of the trauma these women went through. During their imprisonment in the Ravensbrück Labor Camp the women remained full of hope and positivity. One woman expressed her anticipation to be reunited with her son in a letter to her friend in a neighboring village. She wrote “I am excited to get back to the village.” What this story shows and what’s deeply disturbing about these women’s experiences is the that they assumed they would get to see their children and families again, but many never did. They had been told they would be reunited with their families. After their separation, they remained in the dark about the fate of the village and their family members. Living with unfathomable survivors’ guilt, these women preferred to go unnoticed and keep their histories to themselves, demonstrating how crucial it is to be respectful and considerate when discussing their trauma. Their shame of not being able to protect their children’s lives, leaves many bereaving mothers silent. Surviving the massacre is not what is most noteworthy; what is, is the strength and resilience they showed when rebuilding what they lost.
Women are also noticeably absent at the Soviet War Memorial in Treptower Park in Berlin, one of three such memorials built between the years of 1946 and 1949. They all pay tribute to the fallen soldiers of the Red Army during WWII[7]. Walking into the memorial, I was met by towering poplars and a statue of a woman kneeling. She represents Mother Russia, vulnerably revealing her grief for the fallen soldiers by wiping away her tears. As I continue, I look out at a vast and symmetrical space. In the center, are five mass graves. Along both sides of the graves are eight large blocks of limestone with detailed carvings on each side. Each carving portrays the specific events of WWII from the Soviet perspective. Each stone has a quotation by Stalin that works as a narration through the memorial.
The first carving depicts all-out chaos when Nazi Germany attacks the Soviet Union in 1941. We see airborne fighter planes, a man with his fist in the air, and two women, one in despair and the other furrowing her eyebrows while clutching a cane. The next few carvings display a variation of the same, women weeping and women providing food and weaponry. Making my way through the displays, I started to notice the growing absence of women. I scour the carvings for traces of women until I find myself stopped in front of an endless row of male soldiers. Even though one million women had fought in the Red Army[8] as snipers, anti-aircraft gunners, partisans, and more, they were still nowhere to be found. Where are they? Where are all the women?
This memorial stands out because it reflects the narrative the Soviet government wished to convey and memorialize. It shows how the Soviet Union was a victim of Nazi Germany, but heroically defended themselves, and ultimately liberated all the countries oppressed by Nazi Germany. As a result, this monument distorts the roles of women, continuing to project the narrative that women need to be saved by men who go to war, and in exchange, their duty is to support and provide for these soldiers. Based on the images in the memorial, I see how this version of Soviet patriotism and ideology are rooted in patriarchy and misogyny in which women are only visible in roles that fulfill the needs of men. By diminishing and inaccurately representing women’s contributions to war, the history of women ends up grossly misrepresented.
My search for women and their buried histories continued during our tour of the Berlin Wall Memorial. Once again women’s histories are missing from the primary narrative. During our visit, we are led to the Window of Remembrance which pays tribute to those who lost their lives attempting to escape and regain freedom. Looking amongst the hundred or so faces, I once again find myself asking, what about the women? I examined the wall meticulously, noticing a two-year-old boy who was not mentioned by our tour guide, and I felt compelled to ask about his fate. Our guide pauses and says it is not a story that is told often.
I learned the child’s name was Holger H., and he lost his life when his parents attempted to escape from East Berlin, looking to provide a better future for their son. His parents, Ingrid and Klaus H., had a plan to smuggle themselves across the border in empty crates in the back of a truck[9]. Holger and his mother hid in one crate, and his father in another. Prior to the escape Holger had been suffering from an ear infection and bronchitis, making their escape even more challenging. One measly cough during inspection would mean that they would all be sent to prison and separated indefinitely. When the trio reached the border and their transport was stopped for inspection, anxiety grew as the stop was taking longer than anticipated. As any infant child would do in immense pain, Holger began to let out a cry. His mother, desperate to keep him quiet, placed her hand over his mouth unaware that he was unable to breathe through his nose. Minutes later, they made it to their destination of West Berlin. The crates were opened but as Holger’s mother looked down, anguish and despair accompanied her face of horror as Holger laid lifeless in her arms.
I found it striking that such impactful stories remained invisible in the memorial, only told after prying. After hearing Holger’s story, however, I understood why these stories aren’t told unless prompted. This story might go untold in an effort to protect this mother because in the wrong hands she could easily be berated for her actions. When retelling these accounts, it is essential to have compassion and recognize that this mother was left with unfathomable guilt and grief after doing what she assumed would save her child’s life. No parent imagines having to live in a world without their child, let alone having to bury them. The story of this woman provides context to this period, portraying the desperation that comes with escape. Like in Lidice, one can assume this mother did not want to be recognized as a miracle of survival. Most likely harboring deep guilt and shame from not being able to protect her child and forced to endure everlasting pain in silence.
Our rhetoric prioritizes retelling facts and events over the powerful, emotionally loaded stories of living through horrific violence, which often leaves the experiences of women disregarded and overlooked. When talking about war, the word victim is traditionally associated with death which ends up diminishing the experiences of the victims who did survive. For those who have been affected by war, it can be traumatic to discuss its dense history. However, by ignoring these stories, we inevitably lose pieces of history. By sharing these intimate and impactful stories in a respectful manner, we bestow humanity and empathy onto the lives that have been impacted by war’s barbaric brutality. The answer to the question- where are all the women? —is that they have been written out of the narrative and denied visibility until someone is willing to uncover their stories.
References
- History of the Village Lidice. History of the village Lidice – Lidice Memorial. (n.d.). https://www.lidice-memorial.cz/en/memorial/memorial-and-reverent-area/history-of-the-village-lidice/
- Kamm, H. (1967, January 18). Lidice, 25 years later, lives quietly with memory of horror. New York Times.
- Soviet War Memorial Treptow. berlin.de. (n.d.). https://www.berlin.de/en/attractions-and-sights/3561331-3104052-soviet-memorial-treptow.en.html
- Hensel, J. (2008). After the wall: Confessions from an East German childhood and the life that came next. Public Affairs.
- Bildung, B. für politische. (n.d.). Holger H. H., Holger | Chronicle of the Wall. https://www.chronik-der-mauer.de/en/victims/180576/h-holge
- Moorehead, C. (2017, August 2). The unwomanly face of war by Svetlana Alexievich Review – for “Filth” read truth. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/aug/02/unwomanly-face-of-war-svetlana-alexievich-review
- United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. (n.d.). REINHARD HEYDRICH: IN DEPTH. United States holocaust memorial museum. https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/reinhard-heydrich-in-depth
[1] United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. (n.d.). REINHARD HEYDRICH: IN DEPTH. United States holocaust memorial museum. https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/reinhard-heydrich-in-depth
[2] History of the Village Lidice. History of the village Lidice – Lidice Memorial. (n.d.). https://www.lidice-memorial.cz/en/memorial/memorial-and-reverent-area/history-of-the-village-lidice/
[3] History of the Village Lidice. History of the village Lidice – Lidice Memorial. (n.d.). https://www.lidice-memorial.cz/en/memorial/memorial-and-reverent-area/history-of-the-village-lidice/
[5] Kamm, H. (1967, January 18). Lidice, 25 years later, lives quietly with memory of horror. New York Times.
[6] Kamm, H. (1967, January 18). Lidice, 25 years later, lives quietly with memory of horror. New York Times.
[7] Soviet War Memorial Treptow. berlin.de. (n.d.). https://www.berlin.de/en/attractions-and-sights/3561331-3104052-soviet-memorial-treptow.en.html
[8] Moorehead, C. (2017, August 2). The unwomanly face of war by Svetlana Alexievich Review – for “Filth” read truth. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/aug/02/unwomanly-face-of-war-svetlana-alexievich-review
[9] Bildung, B. für politische. (n.d.). Holger H. H., Holger | Chronicle of the Wall. https://www.chronik-der-mauer.de/en/victims/180576/h-holge