06/01/2026
Pride in the Ghetto and Pride Today
My Pride 2026 Message
I grew up in what might be called a ghetto – a Polish ghetto. One could hear Polish spoken on porches, in stores, yards, churches, street corners, busses, and hear Polish radio stations and a few television shows from open home and car windows in the neighborhood. Polish delicacies like chruscziki were either in a relative’s kitchen or at Hyzy’s bakery. Sometimes you would see a woman on the bus coming back from the Broadway Market with a duck poking its head from a leather shopping bag. I knew its fate: it would end up as czarnina!
So, why live in a Polish ghetto? Many Polish immigrants felt out of place coming to this country and settled in an area wherein they could celebrate who they were – their unique customs and speak their native language - even if proud to be American citizens or soon-to-be citizens. First and second-generation immigrants preserved the stories, customs and language of their homeland; these were the people that accompanied me as I grew up.
I was lucky to have my great-grandmother as part of my life until I was 21. She could neither read nor write, spoke only Polish, and was as solid and proud as one could be. My great aunts and uncles, grandparents, and cousins lived “just down the street” or maybe “a few blocks away.” The neighbors were like family, too. We all shared the same values, the same faith, the same pride in being Poles in America. “Ghetto” was a good word, it is where we all were safe and loved.
I heard stories from the older folks about how their relatives – and my own - were taken to the N**i labor camps and how their faith in God and faith in a better tomorrow saw them through and/or their loved ones through. These people – my people – knew what adversity was and mustered up enough strength to leave their country of birth and come to America with little more then what they could carry. My great grandmother came through Ellis Island and when I visited Ellis Island, I was deeply moved to think I saw what she saw, and I was there only because she was there once.
Pride Month makes me think about all this. For LGBTQ+ persons, we often create our own “ghettos” where we feel comfortable, loved, safe, and where we can celebrate who we are. These can be neighborhoods, venues, or even places to gather on social media. We know what adversity feels like. We have faith – even if we don’t call it faith – that somehow there will be a better tomorrow when the next generation will have more opportunity and more dignity afforded them.
If others had not walked a difficult journey that was theirs, and if we do not walk the journey that is uniquely ours, the promise of new opportunity and new life would not and cannot be possible for younger LGBTQ+ persons and for those yet to be born.
Pride Month invites us to recall who we are and remember those who dared to look for, and believe in, a better life for LGBTQ+ persons as they faced the possibility of death, discrimination, or hardship. Have we learned their language? It is the language that we should speak to one another as we stand united - LGBTQ+. It is the language of love - the only language that will, once and for all, create a world that provides a safe home for everyone.
Stan JR Zerkowski
Executive Director
