One of the last stops on our two-week Baltic cruise that we had no business taking in our career stages or income brackets was Gdynia, Poland. We had returned from touring the better-known city of Gdansk, famous for its cathedral and restored old city, and were desperate for snacks. We stopped at a shopping mall that had a grocery store on the second level, and we got on the escalator to go get our Euro-sweets and sodas.
The escalator was one of those where the up and the down lines cris-cross past each other in the middle. As we rode up, a group of 5 or 6 teenagers was riding down. As we passed in mid-transit, I noticed how normal and fun the group appeared. My brain actually said out loud, “Huh. they don’t look stupid.”

It took me the rest of the ride up to realize what had just happened. To understand, you have to know that I grew up in a part of New York State that was half-Italian, half-German, and half-Polish. At least that’s how young kid me would’ve explained it. I was certain Catholicism was the predominant religion in America. Ethnic jokes abounded. I have a vague recollection of Italian jokes, but the ones that really stuck were the Polish jokes. Or as we routinely said back in the day “polack” jokes.
For the uninitiated, these jokes all centered around Poles as less intelligent than the rest of us, in ways that underscored their innate subordination. I’d heard plenty of them in school, in my family, and probably retold a fair amount myself. But I didn’t realize until thirty years later what an insidious, damaging effect they had had on my perception of actual people.
Nowadays, when I have the urge to cross the street to avoid coming face to face with [insert marginalized group here], I remember that escalator ride in Poland, and I reevaluate my response in the context of my upbringing. I don’t know why I thought to write this down today, probably because of all *gestures broadly* this.







