My gorset

     I am a first-generation Polish-American who lives comfortably in New York City as a result of my parents immigrating to the United States. My mom is the first one that immigrated as she was granted a Visa Card in the year 1999, to come to take care of her aunt who had recently had surgery and to visit her cousin who was going to be having a wedding.  My dad, on the other hand, fought hard for his Visa Card but kept getting denied for almost a whole year. He was finally granted one and hopped on the first plane to my mom. They had planned on going back but both realized that considering they each had 5-6 siblings of their own, that they wouldn't really have a place to return to and so they decided to stay in the US so that they could build a family here. They got married, had me and my brother, and even my babcia (my grandma) decided to come from Poland and live with us. It's important to note though that this whole story: my mom, me; almost never happened. It's a story that is told to me by my grandmother each year around the time of my dziadka (grandpa's) anniversary of death. 

    It was winter in the year 1942 and World War II was ravaging Poland. At the time my grandma (my mom's mom) was 3 years old and sitting above the oven with her 5-year-old brother and 1-year-old sister to keep warm. Their dad had gone to a farmer's market a few towns away and wouldn't be back for a few more days and so it was up to their mom and grandparents (my grandma's mom's parents) to take care of the farm they lived on. Their family was keeping a very big secret, they were hiding Jewish people under the floor in the barn so that they wouldn't be captured and taken to a concentration camp. Unknown to them, one of their neighbors must have found out and snitched to the Nazis on them. Abruptly, Nazis arrived on their farm and demanded to know where they were hiding the Jewish people. It's unknown to me if they disclosed this information or not, but I do know that my great-great-grandparents and my great-grandma were lined up outside the barn and shot one by one. The Nazis then locked up the barn with the animals and (maybe) hidden Jewish people still inside and set it on fire. They then moved on to the house in which my grandma and her siblings were still inside. They threw a grenade in through a window, but it didn't explode. This part of the story is also unclear as my grandma swears to me that when a Nazi came to check on why the grenade didn't explode and saw the children there, he fainted and that convinced the other Nazis to hand the children over to some neighbors. My family on the other hand feels that a Nazi who has become desensitized to killing people, wouldn't faint at the sight of children. Another possibility may be that while the Nazis were in the barn, a neighbor may have run in to save my grandma and her sibling. Regardless, they were then transported to an aunt and lived there till they turned 18 and were kicked out to start lives of their own. 

    My babcia's (grandma's) life was extremely difficult. She survived World War II, famine, communism, and countless other hardships. She fought through each one and survived. She raised a family, built a farm with my dziadek (grandpa) using just their hands, lost my dziadek due to a heart attack, and once her children had grown up and started families of their own, my babcia realized that she had no place to stay, so she came to New York City to be with us. I asked my grandma if she had any objects that reminded her of her past and she told me that when she was coming to the US, her sister who was already living in NYC, told her that she didn't need to bring anything important as they already had everything for her. That being the case, she left all her albums and sentimental items in Poland and planned on returning for them once she settled down with us. While she was living with us, her son and daughter-in-law who moved into my babcia's farm, took all of my babcia's items down from the attic, threw them in a big pile on the lawn, and set all of them on fire without asking my babcia for permission. My grandma lost everything including old pictures, her wedding dress, and even her wedding ring which she had accidentally left in Poland. She told me though, that she used to have a gorset, or otherwise known as a traditional Polish costume corset that was given to her by her aunt that took her in. I was actually given a traditional Polish costume including a shirt and a gorset from a great-aunt from my dad's side. My babcia told me that although she had lost hers, the one that I got looked almost identical to it. The gorset is black and has many floral designs made out of sequins on it. Throughout my trips to Poland, I have brought a skirt, beads, and chusta, which is a traditional scarf to complete the outfit. I am glad that I have such a sentimental item for my grandma because not only does it represent the story of how I became a first-generation Polish-American, it also represents the courage and perseverance that my grandma had, and still has. The gorset is an item that has great significance to me and I plan on passing it down with my babcia's history to my future children.