About the author

My journey into Holocaust history began unexpectedly at thirteen, when I was cast as Anne in The Diary of Anne Frank. The role lit a fire—an obsession that led to years of research, drawing on survivor testimonies and historical records as I delved into the psychological impact and intergenerational transmission of trauma left by war and persecution.

At twenty-two, I landed a position at the United Nations in Geneva, Switzerland, working for GATT. The pay wasn’t great, but it covered the rent and, more importantly, financed my weekend trips across Europe. Geneva became my base for adventure: Parisian cafés, Italian piazzas, and long train rides that taught me more about the world than any classroom ever could.

At twenty-four, upon returning home to Africa amid the Rhodesian Bush War, I got serious about my career. I was appointed News Director for Rhodesia Television, a fledgling sanctions-busting studio launched in 1961 with a crew of about twenty employees—the first television studio in Southern Africa, twenty-five years behind its counterpart, America.

I knew almost nothing about news broadcasting, but the studio was in a bind because its director had quit. With a résumé in journalism, performance, and communication, I was a good fit. Being a fast learner, I mastered the unspectacular knack of lacing a projector in under sixty seconds, spliced film, coordinated cameras mounted on wheeled dollies, developed a keen nose for page-one reportage, interviewed newsmakers, brewed gallons of coffee for the crew, and became an intrepid investigative journalist chasing stories with my trusty cameraman.

My marriage to the son of a Holocaust survivor led back to that old obsession. After a fifty-year veil of silence, my mother-in-law, Rifka, survivor of a salt mine and five labor camps, consented to be interviewed. I leaped at the chance to record her story as she spilled the harrowing details that are part of the warp and weft of this book.

Getting her to break her silence is one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. It was a slow, brutal unraveling.

By the time I turned forty, I felt an unshakable responsibility to share what I had learned—to bear witness.

At its core, the book tells the story of Rifka—a Schindler survivor—and our complicated relationship. I was unchosen, the daughter-in-law she fiercely opposed. She boycotted our wedding. We were estranged for several years.

Over time, after the birth of my son and my growing recognition that Rifka suffered from undiagnosed PTSD and Survivor’s Syndrome, our relationship began to shift. A deep affection and hard-won understanding grew between us—unexpected, and almost in spite of ourselves. Ultimately, she entrusted me to tell her story.

At once personal and universal, this book explores the weight of trauma, the miracle of survival, and the legacy that lingers across time and generations.

It was initially conceived as a straightforward chronicle of my mother-in-law’s extraordinary survival. Yet, writing is a process of discovery, and the story that emerged was far more complex.

It is structured as a dual narrative, intertwining our stories and shedding light on the profound psychological and neurological effects of trauma.

It explores:

• Intergenerational Trauma – the transmission of the psychological and emotional effects of trauma from one generation to the next.

• Survivor’s Syndrome – the guilt and complex psychological weight borne by those who lived through the genocide while others perished.

• Sisterhood and Survival – the life-saving alliances between women in the camps, reflecting the enduring power of female solidarity.

• Resilience and Adaptability – how survival required ingenuity, courage, and the ability to adapt under unimaginable pressure.

• Trauma and Its Impact on Survivors – the lasting emotional and neurobiological scars of extreme stress, including PTSD and altered brain patterns.

• The Bystander Effect – how silence, complicity, and moral disengagement allowed atrocities to unfold.

• Forced Labor, Human Rights Violations, and Political Asylum – themes that remain tragically relevant today.

My husband, Zak, a gastroenterologist, and I make our home in Central Florida. We have three wonderful children and six equally remarkable grandchildren, scattered across the United States. I divide my time between remodeling tumbled-down houses, writing, playing mahjong, and experimenting in the kitchen. While I wouldn’t call myself a foodie, I’m comfortable behind a stove and have a soft spot for the Food Network—Street Food is my current obsession.

In the wake of October 7th, we learned that anti-Semitism sleeps lightly. Today, we stand on the precipice of a resurgence on a scale not seen since World War II. Wide-ranging and meticulously researched, My Name Is Not Rifka couldn't be more timely. The parallels are horrifyingly prescient.