Stories

Comfort and peace. A taste of familiarity. I used to dream about foreignness, but only now realize how lucky I am to be here. It has taken time and maturity to master the art of noticing. Today I see that I am surrounded by members of an unrelenting, educated and brave nation. Through relationships, conversations and curiosity I learn and learn, become prouder of my descent and feel the need to cultivate the traditions that made me.

I once stood next to my community but now stand among them. I learned to notice, appreciate and understand the patriotic and unified sense of being that is present in my country. I love the way we suddenly all understand each other, when our anthem plays or when our national team wins a match. I love being surrounded by people, who adore our artists - from Beksiński to Staff, our scientists and all our historical figures who made an imprint on the world's surface. I love walking down roads full of old, dull blocks of flats and instantly being reminded of my grandmother. It puts a smile on my face, to know that in some apartment, there is also a grandmother, baking or doing crossword puzzles with her grandchild. There is a grandfather playing football and giving life lessons. There are neighbors who will be part of fond memories in the future. This is a cycle that repeats all over the world, not just in my world. Tradition is created by communities.

As the dictionary says, “Patriotism is love of your country and desire to defend it.” History shows that Poles had to go through a lot to achieve the liberty and independence we can enjoy today. Throughout hundreds of years of existence, Poland has participated in over 50 full-scale conflicts. Two of the most notable ones, World War I and World War II, had a significant influence on subsequent generations, including mine.

From what I have learned, my maternal great-grandfather was detained in a labour camp during World War II. He fought for his freedom. Once he escaped, he helped a young woman, whom he was in love with, escape from the rubble of what used to be her house. That woman would eventually become my great-grandmother. Because he was surrounded by Germans, my grandfather quickly learned the language, which helped him get on a Red Cross hospital ship to flee the country, saving himself and my great-grandmother. My great-grandfather’s sacrifice and selflessness are the reason why the following branch of my family tree — including me — exists. Moreover, it is not the only story in which my ancestors showed courage and devotion to save my family and fight for a better life for their children. This is not to be forgotten.

The debt we incurred puts us under pressure to be patriots. We feel that we need to show we were worth dying for. Maybe the fundamental part of patriotism isn’t the “love for one’s country” but the respect and gratitude for what we have inherited? Hence, I am convinced that many of us Poles don’t want to disappoint our ancestors. If I didn’t know the history of my family in this country, I don’t think I would consider myself a patriot.

Community and tradition in Poland are shaped not only by celebration, but also by memory.

Our history carries a weight that is impossible to ignore. Generations before us lived through war, occupation, and loss. Because of that, there is often a quiet sense of caution, even suspicion, toward others. It is not always spoken, but it exists in the stories we hear and the way they are told. For some, especially older generations, that memory can become something heavier, a lingering anger or a sense of injustice that never fully fades.

But I think something is changing.

Instead of only holding on to that pain, my generation is learning how to understand it. We listen to those stories not just with pride, but with empathy. We recognize where that fear and mistrust come from, and instead of continuing it, we try to respond differently.

You can see this in moments when it matters most. When war reached Ukraine, many Polish families opened their homes without hesitation. There was no need to question it. It felt immediate, almost instinctive, as if history itself had taught us what it means to need help, and what it means to give it.

For me, that is what community and tradition mean today. It is not just remembering the past, but deciding what to carry forward. Our traditions hold both pain and strength, and they remind us that even after everything, we are still capable of choosing empathy, unity, and a better future together.

On Christmas Day, my cousins and I decorate the Christmas tree with ornaments and candy, and next, with my older brother, we take all the chairs from the attic. We prepare our table and take out tableware and a tablecloth for special occasions. Meanwhile, adults prepare traditional dishes, such as carp, pierogi, borscht, mushroom-filled dumplings, dried fruit compote, and vegetable salad to eat in the evening. When the sun comes down, everyone gets dressed, and kids go upstairs to look for the first star in the sky. When the first star appears, a bell is rung, and presents appear under the tree, and we can share the wafer and then eat. We can't open presents until the last person finishes eating, so my grandpa always eats really slow just to make my little cousin wait longer.

My grandpa's name is Jan. He is the first person in our family who finished university. After Grażyna’s death we got closer. My granny was the type of person who gets all of the spotlight, so he kind of disappeared next to her. With time we got closer to each other and now I’m his favorite granddaughter. For example, he thinks that his duty is feeding me! He followed my grandma's footsteps so two years ago, he learned how to make chicken broth and (famous in Poland) kotlet schabowy (pork chop). He taught me how to swim, tie shoes, plant potatoes and many more. Thanks to him I started eating vegetables. He taught me almost everything!

We begin by just eating an earlier lunch like we would normally do, and then we start to color the eggs for Easter. We do it naturally, not with dyes from the store. We do it with peels of onions, turmeric, and beetroot. We just boil those things in water and add the eggs so they turn into different colors. Then we do a "święconka" which is a small basket with things to eat, and different families do it a little bit different, but my family puts in Easter eggs, sausage, bread, ham, salt, and some leaves or flowers to decorate. When it's ready, we go by foot to the church, and we do the blessing of the Easter basket.

In my eyes one of the key things about Poland is the resilience and dislike of oppression present all over. You may have heard that we have one of the highest Military spendings to GDP ratios on the planet and that is not only because Ukraine is our next door neighbor. A lot of the people here are very much for increasing defense spending in case of an attack. And that is due to past generational trauma and the Soviet oppression which ended only in 1989.

Either way thank you for reading and I hope you learned something new and fun.

PS: We still use XD a lot like a lot a lot I don’t know why.

This story took place in 2014, I was 4 years old at that time, and every year in our city we have an event celebrating the Poland’s Independence Day called “Mila Goleniowska” - It’s a race for people from all generations to get together and think about those who died fighting for our country, I also wanted to participate but it was after a tonsil removal operation and the surgeon prohibited me from doing any exhausting physical activities, but that didn’t stop me, I begged my mum to let me go and she agreed that we would attend it but instead of running we would walk. Despite the fact that I’ve gotten the last place I was still very happy because I didn’t miss our yearly polish tradition.

So if you have a chance of doing something for your homeland – do it, even if you miss out on something because of doing it, remember that the kindness you put into this world will always find the way back to you.

Tradition can be anything too. It is a subconscious sign of trust between people and even just yourself, and helps you remember your roots and where you come from. The beautiful thing is that it can be truly anything. For me, it’s the classic Easter breakfast, riding to my grandma's house at 6:30 in the morning and greeting aunts and uncles I swear I’ve never seen before. For that reason, I believe communities are a group of people that are defined by themselves and the people around them, not by the standards which people are expected not to live up to. It shouldn't be a place where people try to ‘fit in’ but should already naturally feel like they truly belong there. Tradition and community are both signs of trust and things you can rely on because if you think about it, they really are an invisible part of you.

“A beautiful Polish tradition of... attacking loved ones?

Being drenched in cold water isn't usually the best way to wake up. However, there is that one, magical day, when, even the smallest drop of water on your face makes you spring out of bed with a happy, mischievous smile. That is, of course, my favourite day of the year - Śmigus-dyngus.

In the past, Śmigus-dyngus was a tradition, where young boys dumped water on girls they thought were pretty, however, over time it became more of a reason for family and friends to have fun. You can either play it safe with a little sprinkle while greeting each other, or go absolutely crazy with a full-blown watergun fight. I absolutely adore this holiday, because it is the only day of the year when everybody can act silly and have fun without worrying, as if they were kids again.

Unfortunately, there are some people who say that Śmigus-dyngus is childish. To that, I, on the other hand, see it as one of those comforting traditions that you can carry with you everywhere you go, rather than forget. That is why I know that I'll always be able to find my way back to my Polish roots, no matter where I am or who I'm with.

There are many things Poland is proud of, but few are as universally agreed upon as pierogi. They are not just food. They are a personality trait, a comfort system, and possibly the reason family gatherings still function.

Of course, if you look at the world objectively, pierogi are not exactly unique. Almost every culture has invented some version of “stuff wrapped in dough.” Italians have ravioli, Chinese cuisine has dim sum, and there are probably at least ten more variations no one argues about. Logically, this should mean pierogi are just one example of a global idea.

But logic does not apply here.

In Poland, pierogi are clearly superior. It is not something we debate, it is something we understand. Whether they are filled with potatoes and cheese, meat, or even fruit, there is a kind of emotional connection that no other dumpling can compete with. You can eat something similar somewhere else, but it never feels quite right.

Part of it is the context. Pierogi are not just a meal, they are tied to family, holidays, and sitting at a table for too long while someone insists you take one more. Making them is often a group effort, with everyone helping in some way, which turns cooking into something shared.

That is what community and tradition really mean to me. It is not just about the food itself, but about the people, the conversations, and the feeling of being connected. Pierogi might not be unique in the world, but the way they bring us together is.

Warsaw is different from other cities in Poland, first, because it has a subway, the most modern and clean subway you will ever see. From others, the capital city has an incredible history because it was destroyed in 1944 during World War II and rebuilt, which is crazy when you think about it. These reasons are important for me, but what makes Warsaw especially unique among other cities in Poland is that it’s the only city that has Urban Outfitters in it, as it is one of my favorite shops.

A common experience for many Polish people is listening to their parents or grandparents describe how difficult life was under communism. They tell stories about waiting for hours in long queues just to buy basic groceries, often only to discover that by the time it was their turn, the food had already run out.

It is important to understand the historical experiences that shaped these attitudes. At the same time, Polish heritage shouldn't be viewed only through the lens of communism, especially since that period ended almost 40 years ago. I did not experience life under communism, and modern Poland is very different from what it was during that time.

In Poland, community is not always something you see directly, but something you feel in quiet moments.

It is early in the morning, before the sun rises, when the world is still half asleep. The window is slightly open, letting in the cold air, and somewhere outside, a dove begins to coo. The sound is soft and repetitive, almost like a reminder that the day is beginning the same way it always has. In that moment, it feels like nothing has changed, and somehow that is comforting.

Later, the same sense of connection appears in a completely different way. On Christmas Eve, the streets are full, but not for long. There is a kind of shared urgency, people moving quickly, carrying bags, finishing last minute preparations. No one says it out loud, but everyone understands where they are going and why. Minute by minute, the streets grow quieter, until suddenly they are almost empty.

By night, everything becomes still. The roads are silent, with no cars passing by. Every window glows with light, and behind each one, families sit together at the table. You cannot see inside, but you know exactly what is happening. It is the same scene repeated over and over, in every home.

For me, that is what community and tradition mean. It is not always loud or visible, but something I have learned to recognize in quiet moments. It is knowing that, somewhere beyond the silence, we are all living the same story together.

For me one of the most Polish traditions is Fat Thursday.

Fat Thursday is one day of February that is dedicated to eating donuts, angel wings, fries, basically, anything that would be considered fat. This year it was the 12th of February and the date changes every year. Fat Thursday isn’t only about eating sweets though, it’s about eating an extraordinary amount of them. That one particular day, Polish people can eat all they want without any guilt and remorse.

It’s an occasion that every Polish family celebrates, my family is no different. I remember the excitement it carried when I was younger, right now it brings me joy too. Even though I am not a very big fan of “pączki” when the day comes I’m always thinking- “why don’t I stuff my mouth with 15 of them”. It’s a tradition that brings people together, make us realize that we are a part of the community that shares the same beliefs. It brings out our inner child and makes us recall our sweet, peaceful, childhood memories and relieve them again.