My best friend in Poland always bakes a cake for her own birthday. Without making any prior arrangements she knows her mum, siblings, nieces, and nephews will turn up, like they do every year.
Since I migrated to Ireland 19 years ago, I had never hosted my family with a cake on my birthday. I live here, and my family doesn’t.
But my birthday last December was different: I got three birthday cakes. I had three birthday dinner parties in three different countries, Poland, Ireland, and the UK. Those cakes tasted of love and the grief of migration. The one my mum baked for me was the first we had shared in 19 years.
I never wanted to be a migrant; I knew from the life of my siblings who all migrated out of Poland before me how difficult that life is. However, in 2005 the unemployment rate in Poland was 18 per cent and my family was living below the poverty line. The opportunity to better my life and my family’s life was too good to pass up.
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So, 19 years ago I allowed the flow of the Polish EU accession-related migration to take me to Ireland.
My migration life in many regards exceeded my expectations. But still I long for those ordinary family rituals that I do not get to experience – all the birthday cakes, Sunday dinners, and afternoon cups of tea I haven’t been able to share. For a very long time, I also longed for a sense of being at home.
Eleven years ago, I reached a salary level that could finally afford me a plane ticket home for Christmas. But by then, I had no home to go to. At that point not only my siblings but my mum had migrated out of Poland too. In my hometown, there was only an empty flat we used to call home.
I like to think of that time as the moment when I made a commitment to build a sense of home in Ireland. But it’s not as easy as simply making the decision.
Migrant life is marked by experiences that alienate us from the place we live and remind us we don’t belong. What are some of the experiences? I have been denied entry to a pub in county Kildare, and told by the bouncer at the door that it was “for locals only”.
I have been told “We do not rent to Polish people” by a prospective landlady. When I applied for a job promotion, I was told that the job was too good for me. I have been harassed online and told countless times to “go back to where you come from”. These experiences diminish my dignity and stop me developing the feeling that Ireland is home.
And these are not isolated incidents. There is a documented pattern of discrimination against Polish migrants. According to unpublished research by the Immigrant Council of Ireland in 2015, Eastern European migrants, among them Poles, were the third most targeted group with racism in Ireland.
Additionally, research by Dr Ebun Joseph explains how racist stratifications in workplaces position Poles at a lower level of the hierarchy than Irish and workers coming from the so-called western world and as a result limit opportunities for career development and promotions. ESRI research on migrant communities found that Eastern European migrant workers earn 40 per cent less than their Irish counterparts and Eastern European migrant women during the Covid-19 lockdown were most affected by job loss.
Despite these patterns of discrimination, the Polish community is often omitted from discussions about diversity and inclusion. There is a staggering lack of Polish voices and representation in decision-making processes. The Polish migrant community is the largest ethnic minority group – one in 50 Irish residents is Polish. Why is there such low visibility of our community in public spaces?
Evidence shows that, when supported and invited, Poles in Ireland are more than willing to participate in civic and political life –- as it was with the “Bloody Foreigners” campaign mobilising Polish blood donors in Ireland, or the Polska-Eire festival of integration.
There is also evidence showing that restrictions in accessing diversity and inclusion programs and funding can lead to diminished public participation. Polish migrant rights organisations lack the resources to provide sufficient representation in policymaking and advocacy.
Due to EU citizenship status, Polish migrants cannot access many integration-related programs, including programs supporting political participation. This could be one of the reasons why in the 2024 local elections there is only one Polish person among over 60 candidates of a migrant background.
The Polish migrant community falls into a paradox of representation. We are considered too different to be fully included in Irish society, not different enough to get additional supports. There are other communities more marginalised than Poles. However, the wellbeing and prosperity of communities should not be measured by comparison to the most vulnerable but by the equality standards of the whole population.
Today marks the 20th anniversary of Poland joining the EU on May 1st, 2004. The 123,000 Poles who reached Ireland following the EU accession all want to feel we belong. Our commitment to making Ireland home must be met with support.
Despite challenging encounters with discrimination, Polish migrants often speak of the welcoming attitude of Irish communities. Every time racism breaks my heart, the Irish warmth and welcome is what mends it. There is a lot of good intention on the part of Irish people, many of whom reach out to invite migrants to participate in community life and to make sure we feel included. But public policymaking needs to catch up and include our voices too.
In June every year, I celebrate another important date. My anniversary of migration to Ireland. From the moment I stepped off a bus at Busáras on a rainy Sunday morning I had to leave some things behind, so my new life and my new home could emerge. Maybe this year I will mark that anniversary with a cake.
Teresa Buczkowska is a Polish-Irish writer and migrant rights campaigner. She’s the editor of the Migrant Vote and Forum Polonia Secretary.
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