CHAPTER 21The Girl Without Hands
e second step in the dance of freedom is learning how to take risks
that are necessary to true self-realization. e biggest risk I took on
that journey was to return to Auschwitz. ere were people on the
outside—Marianne’s host family, the clerk at the Polish embassy—
telling me not to go. And there was my internal gatekeeper, the part of
me that wanted to be safe more than I wanted to be free. But the night
I lay awake in Goebbels’s bed, I intuited the truth that I wouldn’t be a
complete person until I went back, that for my own health I needed to
be in that place again. Taking risks doesn’t mean throwing ourselves
blindly into danger. But it means embracing our fears so that we aren’t
imprisoned by them.
Carlos began to work with me when he was a high school
sophomore, struggling with social anxiety and self-acceptance. He was
so afraid of being rejected by his peers that he wouldn’t risk initiating
friendships or relationships. One day I asked him to tell me about the
ten most popular girls at his school. And then I gave him an
assignment. He was to ask each of these girls out on a date. He told me
that was impossible, that he would be committing social suicide, that
they would never go out with him, that he would be laughed at for the
rest of his high school days for having been so pathetic. I told him, yes,
it’s true, you might not get what you want—but even if you don’t,
you’ll still be better off than you were before, because you’ll know
where you stand, you’ll have more information, and you’ll be seeing