The date is Nov. 9, 1989. Berlin wakes up divided. By 10 a.m., the East German government (or the German Democratic Republic), a Soviet satellite, is in a meeting, planning changes to travel policies to the West, or the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). The reform is the result of mass action across all of Germany in the preceding months, urging East Germany to follow policies newly vetted by Gorbachev that granted Eastern Bloc states significant autonomy. Berliner families had been separated for 28 years by this point.

The wall was erected as a result of the Yalta Conference between the Great Powers in 1945, where the Soviet Union, Great Britain, the United States, and eventually France were given portions of Germany to occupy. The Soviet Union controlled East Germany, and in 1961, launched an “anti-fascist” campaign to fortify its borders against Western influence. The Berlin Wall was a key part of that campaign, constructed almost overnight. It spanned 165 kilometers and had a “death strip” on each side of it, guarded by military dogs and Soviet officers ordered to shoot on sight anyone attempting to climb the concrete barrier topped with barbed wire.

5:30 p.m., Nov. 9, 1989, GDR’s Chairman of the Council of State, Egon Krentz, submits a draft resolution that would grant East Germans freedom to travel. At 6:50 p.m. during an international press conference, GDR representative Günter Schabowski reads out an excerpt from the submitted policy draft, stating “private travel outside of the country can now be applied for without prerequisites, conditions or family relationships. Permits will be issued on short notice.” Italian journalist Riccardo Ehrman asked Schabowski when this regulation was to go into effect. Schabowski looks over the papers in his hands, visibly confused, and replies “as I understand it, it goes into effect, immediately, without delay!”.

As AP circulates the news that “GDR opens its borders” at 7:05 p.m., East Germans started to flock around the checkpoints, demanding to be let through. By 9:30 p.m. the crowds have grown, and the border guards can no longer hold them back.

By 1:00 a.m., Nov. 10, the first East Germans have jumped the Wall. After that, the border crossing can no longer be regulated due to the sheer number of people on both sides of the Wall. It is a day of celebration.

35 years later, my parents remember following the events leading up to the fall of the Berlin Wall from the then-blocked Radio Free Europe. For any kid from a post-Soviet satellite country, Nov. 9 is as much of a day of celebration as any national holiday. The fall of the Berlin Wall marked the symbolic end of the communist regime. Our parents, at the time young adults like us today, were the first to dream of the opportunities that lie beyond the Wall, the first to take to the streets and celebrate, and the first to sing Pink Floyd’s “The Wall” from beginning to end.

Now, the Wall’s remnants in Berlin form an open-air gallery. During my last visit, I noticed that tourists would only go to the graffiti “My God, Help Me Survive This Deadly Love”, depicting Soviet General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev and GDR leader Erich Honnecker’s “socialist fraternal kiss”. Then they leave with their photographs taken and their Instagram captions in mind. I walked to the end of the segment alone, feeling an obligation to see both sides, as many Eastern Europeans do. As I reached the end, I saw children playing on a newly built playground right next to an ultramodern glass residential building. The Wall — nothing but a shade and, apparently, an art piece.

Segment from the Berlin Wall in Tbilisi, Georgia. Photo by Yousef Rawashdeh.

Pieces of the Berlin Wall are scattered across the world as reminders of the victims of the Cold War. I would often walk right by the one in Sofia, Bulgaria, and only glance at it. Only recently did I realize that perhaps on a metaphysical level, my generation can also be considered victims of the Cold War.

The Berlin Wall segment in Sofia, Bulgaria, is close to the National Palace of Culture. Photo by Dara Sapundzhieva.

The backside of the segment shows the part of the wall that extended into the "death strip." Photo by Dara Sapundzhieva.

Call it epigenetics, but whenever I see an image of a walled border I shiver. That is also why the main association I have with Donald Trump is his Mexican Wall. Now that he has been officially re-elected as President of the United States of America, I am reminded of the fate of the U.S.-Mexico border. Although President Joe Biden halted its construction during his term, he did not tear it down. In fact, his administration even filled some of the gaps in the portion of it that was already complete, almost halfway through the Mexico-U.S. border. Now I wonder whether Trump would pick it right up again.

The segment of the Berlin Wall in New York City, U.S.A. Photo by Mehraneh Saffari.

Even if he does not, walls between people of the Americas and even within the U.S. will keep on growing taller, wider, and longer. Trump’s envisioned severe anti-immigration policies will only further divide Americans. And since the U.S. maintains an active foreign policy, the effects of Trump’s walls, both physical and metaphorical, will likely ripple across the world. Authoritarian regimes might take note, seeing it as an easy fix to a problem that they struggle with, which is hearing voices from outside of their echo chambers.

As the world holds its breath to see Trump’s approach to the conflicts in Ukraine, the Middle East, and Africa, or the economic instability in Europe, I propose we take some time to go to the nearest segment of the Berlin Wall, wherever you are. Stand in its shadow, take in its height, and try to imagine what lies beyond. Then ask yourself if that is how you would like to perceive life—from behind a wall.