Bielski Defiance Documentary/Statement

I was lucky to grow up in the presence of a hero.

My grandpa Tuvia didn’t drive a fancy car or lead a glamorous life, he was an immigrant from Eastern Europe who worked hard in the trucking and taxi business to provide for his family.

He was a towering man with a kind soul who slipped me all the sweets I wanted while no one was looking, loved listening to me play the piano, no matter how bad I was, and whose eyes welled up with proud tears when he saw me receive my college diploma.

As a child, I knew there was something special about grandpa Tuvia. The many times I visited him and my grandmother Lilly at their home in Brooklyn, I would stare at a giant black and white photograph hanging on their wall. In the photo, a ragtag looking group of people were posing with guns in the middle of a plush forest. The words “Jewish Resistance” were written in bold letters under the photo. Another wall was covered with a variety of plaques and awards that had been given to my grandfather over the years by people thanking him for his heroism.

But yet, my grandfather never talked about his heroic past unless prompted, and I was too young and naïve to ask questions.

Endless streams of visitors would stop by my grandparents’ home to play cards and drink vodka. These visitors were extended family who shared a mysterious history with my grandparents, and I could sense a powerful bond between them. “Do you realize what your grandfather did?” they would ask me.

As I got older, fragments of their story started to create a clear picture. My grandfather Tuvia Bielski, along with his brothers Asael and Zus, fled to the woods of Western Belarus during World War II and vowed to stay away from the ghettos. The brothers formed an armed partisan fighting unit and chose Tuvia as their commander. Tuvia’s main goal was to save as many Jews as possible, and he sent messages to the nearby ghettos begging anyone who would listen to come to the woods. In spite of limited resources, and the constant threat of the enemies surrounding them, the Bielskis created a flourishing community under the protection of the trees while conducting sabotage missions against the Nazis. Tuvia, Asael and Zus kindled a flame of hope in the hearts of Jews searching for sense and meaning during one of their darkest times in history. Three and a half years later, when the war ended, over 1200 men, women and children emerged from the woods in defiance of Hitler. These Jews had saved themselves.

I unfortunately didn’t fully appreciate the magnitude of this achievement within the context of the rest of the world until my grandfather’s death on June 12, 1987. The NY Times ran his obituary, which then spurred an outpouring of condolences from people all over the world who were connected to the story. I was truly blown away when I learned that from the 1200 survivors from the woods, there were now over 10,000 descendants living all over the world.

In 1997 I finally realized it was important for me ask my grandmother questions I never had the opportunity to ask my grandfather. So I bought a camera and began filming.

The first thing I learned was that this wasn’t going to be easy. My grandmother proved to be a difficult subject and was not particularly thrilled to talk about the past.

Little did I know that my filming would take me on an eleven-year journey from Brooklyn to Belarus, and from Bonita Springs to Israel. And I never could have imagined that I would find myself standing in the woods of Lithuania watching Ed Zwick direct scenes about my family for his film “Defiance.” It was truly a surreal moment to see Daniel Craig play the role of my grandfather, while Liev Schreiber portrayed Uncle Zus and Jamie Bell portrayed Uncle Asael.

I feel lucky to have learned at a young age from my grandfather that nothing in life is impossible. He has been my inspiration behind every goal I have set for myself. He never bragged about his past or the people he saved, and I believe it is his genuine humility that makes him a true hero.

The Bielski Partisans took their fate into their own hands during the Holocaust, and now it is in the hands of the surviving generations to make sure our family history is never forgotten. I tell this story to honor the memory of my grandparents and my uncles, and hope that perhaps some day, future generations may eventually learn from the lessons of the past. Teach tolerance.
-Sharon Rennert Jan, ’09.

Copyright © 2014 Sharon Rennert. All rights reserved.