The Oppressor By Elie Wiesel Analysis
Elie Wiesel has said, “What hurts the victim the most is not the cruelty of the oppressor, but the silence of the bystander, ‘’ I, unfortunately, know the emotion behind this quote too well. During my middle school years, my friends were everything to me. I had a compact group of two best friends. We were hardly seen without each other, but I had known one of the girls longer than the other; one since elementary school and the other I had barely met in middle school. The friend I had known the longest was named ‘E’, while the newest friend was named ‘J’. During 7th grade, rumors were being scattered about my group of friends. Supposedly, J had spoken disrespectfully about E and I. Everyone knows rumors should be disregarded, but there's just something about middle school that makes it a time during a growing kid’s life when one’s superiority needs to be proven. In other words, rumors
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Every time J would try and defend herself, another girl would yell over her. I remember I was speechless, it was as if I was suffocating in my own dismay for J. My hands were drenched in sweat and trembling, but I just watched. I was a bystander to a bullying.
Her eyes filled up with tears like an overflowing dam. She was trying to keep her tears from falling, trying not to show herself at her weakest point. Her voice cracked every time she piped up. The school staff eventually had to come and take her away. By the time everyone was done ripping her to shreds, the damage was done and she wasn’t the same after that.
After J went through that incident, she felt so alone that she turned to cutting her own wrists in hopes of feeling safe again. I would do anything if I could go back in time and either switch positions with J or give her a sense of security I felt from the popular girls at that time, because I know I didn’t ever deserve feeling safe when I had nothing to be afraid
Every time J would try and defend herself, another girl would yell over her. I remember I was speechless, it was as if I was suffocating in my own dismay for J. My hands were drenched in sweat and trembling, but I just watched. I was a bystander to a bullying.
Her eyes filled up with tears like an overflowing dam. She was trying to keep her tears from falling, trying not to show herself at her weakest point. Her voice cracked every time she piped up. The school staff eventually had to come and take her away. By the time everyone was done ripping her to shreds, the damage was done and she wasn’t the same after that.
After J went through that incident, she felt so alone that she turned to cutting her own wrists in hopes of feeling safe again. I would do anything if I could go back in time and either switch positions with J or give her a sense of security I felt from the popular girls at that time, because I know I didn’t ever deserve feeling safe when I had nothing to be afraid