The Freedom Writers Diary

Have you ever had a teacher—or mentor—who made you feel seen for the first time? That moment when you realized someone believed in your potential, even when you didn’t believe in it yourself? Freedom Writers, by Erin Gruwell, invites you into such a moment. It's the story of transformation—how one determined teacher and a group of students from one of Long Beach’s most segregated schools worked their way from despair to empowerment. The book reveals how education, empathy, and courage can undo cycles of prejudice and violence.

Gruwell argues that real teaching means understanding your students’ realities—not just their textbooks. She believes that change begins when people learn to see the humanity in one another. Prejudice, she contends, doesn’t dissolve through lectures or punishment—it fades when individuals connect their own pain with the pain of others. That’s why she deliberately exposed her students to stories from Anne Frank, Zlata Filipović, and Holocaust survivors, connecting their struggles to those faced by teens caught in racial conflict and poverty.

Breaking Down Barriers

The book begins with Gruwell’s first real teaching assignment at Wilson High. As the new teacher, she was given what others saw as the “problem classes”—students divided by gang affiliations, racial prejudice, and distrust toward authority figures. Her classroom was a reflection of the tensions in their neighborhoods: Asian students avoided Latino students, Black students distrusted White students, and everyone assumed she would quit like the teachers before her. Gruwell faced not only adolescents who felt hopeless but also colleagues who dismissed her optimism as naïve.

Her initial lessons fell flat. But gradually, Gruwell shifted her approach—choosing books relevant to her students’ experiences. She used Romeo and Juliet to parallel gang rivalries and brought documentaries and survivor stories into her lessons. Over time, she built an environment where talking about prejudice, violence, and injustice wasn’t taboo but necessary. Students started questioning their ingrained biases. They began talking across racial lines, discovering that their pain—whether from abuse, racism, or loss—was shared.

When Empathy Becomes Action

Gruwell’s students moved from simple awareness to active engagement. During their sophomore year, they wrote letters to Zlata Filipović, whose wartime diary from Sarajevo mirrored Anne Frank’s. When Zlata and Miep Gies (Anne Frank’s protector) later visited, it affirmed the students’ belief that their own voices mattered in the larger fight against hate. These encounters blurred the lines between classroom and global community—making history feel urgent and personal.

By their junior and senior years, the students—now known as the Freedom Writers—had not only discovered self-respect but were channeling it into activism. They compiled their personal diaries into an anonymous manuscript to share their truths with the world. They even traveled to Washington, D.C., to meet the Secretary of Education, symbolizing their growth from marginalized teens to empowered voices advocating tolerance.

The Core Message: Education as Empowerment

At its heart, Freedom Writers isn’t just about teaching English—it’s about teaching humanity. Gruwell’s approach was rooted in what educators like Paulo Freire have called “consciousness-raising” (in Pedagogy of the Oppressed): helping people recognize societal structures that keep them divided and powerless. Her students didn’t just study literature—they studied resilience, empathy, and justice. They learned that their personal stories had the power to dismantle stereotypes.

This journey—spanning from prejudice to purpose—reveals the book’s central thesis: when young people are given the space to confront their truths and connect with others’ stories, they can become agents of change. The lessons extend beyond classrooms. They ask us to reconsider how we respond to difference, how we nurture empathy in our communities, and whether we too are willing to write new narratives about tolerance.

A Transformative Lesson

Education isn’t just about reading books—it’s about awakening understanding. Gruwell’s story reminds us that when lessons move beyond the page and touch the heart, prejudice loses its power and empathy begins its quiet revolution.

By reading the story of Erin Gruwell and her Freedom Writers, you witness how belief, empathy, and courage can transform not just students but entire communities—and why those same values remain as urgent today as they were in that Long Beach classroom nearly three decades ago.

Erin Gruwell entered her first full year of teaching at Wilson High with excitement and anxiety. Despite her achievements as a student teacher, the school’s seniority system placed her with the so-called “problem freshmen.” She quickly learned that her classroom reflected the social fractures of Long Beach: deep racial divides, gang affiliations, and a collective sense of hopelessness. Her students had seen the adults around them—teachers included—give up on them. Many assumed Gruwell would be no different.

Turning Conflict into Understanding

Gruwell’s first challenge was breaking through layers of mistrust. The racial segregation among students mirrored community rivalries. To many, violence was the only way to respond to injustice. She introduced literature and film as bridges—using stories to connect her students’ experiences to universal human emotions. When they studied Romeo and Juliet, she pointed out the similarities between the Montagues and Capulets and local gang feuds. That analogy helped students question the futility of their own conflict.

Gruwell also addressed current events, including Proposition 187, which sought to restrict public resources for undocumented immigrants. This was not abstract policy—it affected her students’ families directly. By making lessons relevant, she invited personal reflection. Students began opening up—writing, debating, and sharing their fears. Slowly, the classroom became a safe space for voices that had long been silenced.

The Role of Representation

Many of Gruwell’s students had never read a story that looked or sounded like their lives. By choosing relatable readings—diaries, survivor stories, and narratives of oppression—she gave them tools to reimagine themselves as protagonists. When she rewarded creativity, such as by screening their filmed book projects, she demonstrated that their perspectives mattered. Education became more than a lecture—it became collaboration.

Key Lesson

When people see themselves in the stories they study, learning ceases to be academic—it becomes emotional and transformative. Representation isn’t just inclusion; it’s empowerment.

By the end of her first year, Gruwell’s classes had shifted from hostility to curiosity. The students who began doubting their future were now eager to learn. They looked forward to returning to her class. What started as a lesson on literature became an entry point into empathy—proof that understanding another’s story can rewrite your own.

By sophomore year, Erin Gruwell and her students were ready to broaden their horizons. They turned to diaries from teens living through war and prejudice—Anne Frank and Zlata Filipović. Gruwell wanted her students to realize that cruelty and discrimination weren’t confined to their neighborhoods; they were global issues. Through these readings, her students began recognizing that pain, fear, and resilience are universal languages.

Finding Reflections Across Borders

The students saw themselves in Anne and Zlata, young women who refused to let their circumstances destroy their humanity. Many had lived through the aftermath of the Los Angeles race riots. When they read about Bosnia or Nazi Germany, they didn’t see history they couldn’t relate to—they saw their own trauma mirrored back. This realization dissolved borders. It proved that empathy doesn’t require shared geography, only shared emotion.

Turning Inspiration Into Action

Gruwell encouraged her students to write letters to Zlata. To her surprise, they took the project seriously—raising funds to make her visit possible. Their persistence showed how far they’d come from cynicism. When Miep Gies visited the class, and later Zlata herself, these encounters validated the students’ voices. They were no longer passive learners—they were hosts, collaborators, participants in a global dialogue about tolerance.

A Global Truth

Empathy is the world’s common language. When we see our pain reflected in another’s story—whether in Bosnia’s ruins or a Californian classroom—we realize that our humanity connects us beyond race, class, or geography.

Through global connections, Gruwell’s students evolved from victims of prejudice into advocates for change. They saw that personal growth and social justice are intertwined—the more empathy we extend, the more peace we can create.

Junior year marked a new phase for Gruwell’s students. They had learned empathy; now they needed empowerment. Gruwell shaped her curriculum around one central idea: self-reliance. Drawing from American literature, she encouraged her class to take control of their actions and futures. They studied heroes who defied obstacles, and they learned that moral strength begins with self-awareness.

From Reaction to Responsibility

In a community where retaliation was second nature (“if you get hit, you hit back”), Gruwell taught restraint. Her students began to realize that reacting with violence perpetuated their pain. Choosing not to fight became an act of courage. That shift—from vengeance to self-control—was radical in their environment. It signaled maturity and understanding.

Confronting Misogyny and Abuse

The class’s exploration of The Color Purple sparked conversations about misogyny and sexual abuse. Students recognized themselves in Celie’s story—a girl surviving trauma through resilience. One student gained strength to face her abusive uncle; another confronted his violent stepfather. Gruwell’s classroom became not just a learning space but a refuge—a place where honesty could heal and self-reliance could restore dignity.

A Shift in Power

Self-reliance is not isolation—it’s empowerment. Gruwell’s students learned that their choices could interrupt cycles of violence. Courage comes not from dominance, but from restraint and responsibility.

Through literature and discussion, Gruwell’s students discovered how to reclaim power over their lives. The theme of self-reliance guided them to become catalysts of peace instead of victims of turmoil—a foundational step in their eventual transformation into the Freedom Writers.

One of Gruwell’s most transformative strategies was encouraging her students to write their own stories. Inspired by Zlata’s diary, she invited them to put their experiences—of abuse, poverty, and violence—onto paper. These were not fictional tales but raw, personal testimonies. Writing offered a rare outlet for emotions too dangerous to express aloud.

The Power of Anonymity

The Freedom Writers chose anonymity to protect themselves. John Tu, a wealthy supporter, donated computers so their handwriting wouldn’t reveal identities. Editing each other’s stories, they realized their hardships were collective, not isolated. This process turned vulnerability into solidarity—pain into community strength.

Writing as Healing

Gruwell’s classroom turned language into therapy. Through writing, students didn’t just relive trauma—they reframed it, giving meaning to suffering. Editing peers’ diaries helped them see resilience mirrored in others. (Note: This echoes Viktor Frankl’s concept in Man’s Search for Meaning—that purpose transforms pain into growth.) Their manuscripts became a collective voice for the unheard.

Shared Healing

When stories are shared, isolation fades. Writing transforms private grief into communal strength—and in that exchange, healing begins.

Their diaries later became the foundation for The Freedom Writers Diary, showing that even anonymous voices can spark public change. Through storytelling, they discovered what many writers before them have: that self-expression is a powerful path from oppression to liberation.

By 1997, Gruwell’s class had evolved from students into activists. The transformation crystallized when they studied the Freedom Riders—civil rights activists who traveled the segregated South. Seeing themselves in these trailblazers, they adopted the name Freedom Writers. It was more than symbolic; it was a declaration of purpose. They would use writing to challenge prejudice and injustice.

Turning Reflection Into Advocacy

The students compiled their journal entries into a book, connecting their local stories to national dialogues on race and tolerance. When they visited Washington D.C. to meet Secretary of Education Richard Riley, it marked their arrival—not just as learners, but as leaders. They had crossed the threshold from awareness to activism.

Legacy Through Action

Back home, the Freedom Writers continued engaging in community efforts. One ran for Senior Class President and won—proof that leadership can emerge from those once deemed “unreachable.” Their story echoed far beyond Long Beach, inspiring teachers and students worldwide to approach education differently, prioritizing empathy and authenticity over grades and conformity.

Empowerment Redefined

Empowerment begins when knowledge turns into purpose. The Freedom Writers show that tolerance isn’t a passive ideal—it’s an action, a discipline, and a shared commitment to rewriting the world’s story.

Through their courage and creativity, Gruwell’s students became more than survivors—they became changemakers. Their movement stands as a reminder that empathy, once awakened, can ignite revolutions of understanding far beyond any classroom wall.