September 23, 2022
Most of my friends have immigrant parents. Growing up in Chicago, one of the most diverse cities in the world, made it easy to form friendships with other second-generation kids. The way it is most prevalent in my life is from my boyfriend. He is Mexican, and his parents are originally from Mexico. Being welcomed into their home has allowed me to experience the everyday intricacies of a culture different from my own: the food, the family dynamics, the celebrations, and even the way they express care and discipline. As the daughter of Polish immigrants, this exchange feels familiar. My household is distinctly Polish and the ways to connect with my family were scarce. I remember when international calls weren’t so accessible, and every Sunday, my family would use prepaid phone cards to call our relatives back home, just like he had. So, these moments reminded me how deeply tied my identity is to another place and time, and how homelife, technology, and history have shaped the way families stay connected. These small rituals were a lifeline to keep our heritage prevalent in our lives.
The concept of culture as a site of contestation is something engrained in my family’s history. My parents grew up under communism, and my grandfather lived through World War II. He faced immense hardship and, through sheer resilience, he became a respected figure in our village, the mayor. But that history of struggle doesn’t disappear within one generation. It tends to linger, and in Poland, you can still feel it in the way people guard their independence. After enduring so much to preserve their sovereignty, there is a natural resistance to change, and like in any society, political corruption and disillusionment continue to exist.
All of this has shaped my understanding of culture not as something fixed, but as something constantly negotiated. It’s why I find intercultural praxis so powerful because it pushes us to think critically about identity, power, and history while emphasizing empathy. My curiosity about the lives and landscapes of other communities stems from this understanding and living within the dominant culture in the U.S., I feel a responsibility to learn from others and to challenge narrow definitions of what it means to be human. All while remembering that there is no single, universal way of being.
April 12, 2025
Since writing the reflection above, the political climate in Poland, Europe, and the United States has shifted dramatically, and is marked by a surge in right-wing nationalism and increasingly exclusionary ideologies. Culture is now often framed as a rigid, singular identity, and as something you either belong to or you don’t. This perspective leaves little room for hybridity, dual belonging, or the lived realities of immigrant communities.
In the U.S., anti-immigrant policies have intensified. People are being deported regardless of their visa or green card status. IRS data is now being weaponized against undocumented residents. Even those who have lived in the country for decades, grown up here, and speak English as their first language are being treated as pests and packages, and are reminded that, to some, being “American” is synonymous with being white, nationalistic, and unquestioningly capitalistic. A similar pattern is emerging in Poland, where the shadow of Russian aggression once again threatens Eastern Europe. As Ukrainian refugees arrive in large numbers, along with migrant workers, anti-immigrant rhetoric is growing louder. In many towns, there is a growing tension between the desire to protect Polish sovereignty and a refusal to extend empathy to those seeking safety. People are increasingly voting for far-right parties, driven by the fear that an inclusive, multicultural society somehow threatens their national identity. In addition, I see similarities of this in Italy, where laws make it nearly impossible for those without Italian ancestry, even if born on Italian soil or fleeing persecution, to gain citizenship.
All of this raises urgent questions about the future. What does it mean to “protect” a culture and at what cost? Efforts to preserve a so-called cultural purity are, at their core, rooted in racism and xenophobia. The world is changing. Demographics are shifting. Whether through conflict, climate, or economic instability, people will continue to migrate, and cultures will continue to move and blend. Therefore, clinging to these exclusionary values in the name of preserving national identity diminished the true meaning of culture, which is dynamic and fluid. In my opinion, if societies refuse to adapt and to welcome those who are different, they risk being left behind. They will allow their fear to prohibit them from evolving and strengthening their values because the future belongs to those willing to embrace diversity, reimagine belonging, and understand that humanity and cultures cannot be confined to rigid quotas.
