Black in Poland: Why I Will Never Go Back to that Country Again

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I didn’t expect roses or warm hugs when I got to Poland. I’m not that naive. But I didn’t expect to feel so uncomfortable, either. As a Black woman in Poland, I stood out right away. People stared. Some frowned. A few whispered. I’ve traveled to more than 80 countries. I’ve had plenty of awkward or curious moments. But Poland felt different. It felt personal—like my presence offended someone. And that feeling followed me the entire trip.

Table of Contents

• Landing in Rzeszów
• First Impressions
• Being a Black Woman in Poland
• Some People Were Kind
• Visiting Auschwitz
• Krakow Felt Different—but Not Enough
• What I Think Now
• Where We Stayed
• Like it. Pin it!

Landing in Rzeszów

We flew into Rzeszów, a small airport in southern Poland. It was quiet and gray. Rain had just passed, so the smell of wet pavement hung in the air. We arrived for a short weekend, hoping to relax. We booked spa treatments, planned to explore, and imagined ourselves sipping coffee in cozy cafés. But from the start, things shifted. The rain didn’t let up. The spa closed early. The streets felt empty—like we had shown up to a party no one else attended. We walked around anyway, hoping to feel better. We changed our plans to stay busy, but the unease never left.

First Impressions

On one of our first walks through the town, a man approached us on a narrow street. His coat was too tight, and the sleeves barely reached his wrists. He looked straight at me. I smiled, like I always do. But his face didn’t change. No return smile. No nod. Just a cold, steady stare. He clutched his coat tighter and kept walking, his footsteps loud against the cobblestone. He looked back at me with a glare, then disappeared around a corner. That moment stayed with me. It set the tone for everything that followed.

Being a Black Woman in Poland

I’ve traveled as a Black woman in Poland, Germany, Thailand, and many other places. I expect some stares—especially in smaller towns. But there’s a difference between curiosity and discomfort. In Poland, the stares lasted too long. Smiles rarely came. Conversations felt clipped or avoided altogether. I felt watched in the grocery store, at the hotel breakfast, even while standing at crosswalks. It wasn’t one big thing—it was a hundred small things. I’ve been to rural villages in Southeast Asia and remote towns in Eastern Europe, but nowhere else made me feel so out of place in such a quiet, consistent way.

People looked at us without looking away. Even meals felt tense. I tried to enjoy a plate of buttery pierogies, but I couldn’t ignore the weight in the air. As a Black woman in Poland, even simple moments—like ordering food—didn’t feel simple.

Some People Were Kind

Not every moment felt cold. One older woman passed me in the town square. She moved slowly and leaned on a cane. As she looked up, she smiled and blew me a kiss. It came out of nowhere and lasted only a second. But it gave me pause. In that brief moment, she saw me. No fear. No judgment. Just a simple act of kindness. It didn’t erase the tension I felt elsewhere, but it reminded me that kindness still exists—even where it feels rare.

Visiting Auschwitz

We made the difficult decision to visit Auschwitz. The weather matched the mood—gray skies, steady drizzle, and biting wind. The gravel crunched under my shoes as we entered. I had prepared myself mentally, but nothing compares to standing in that space. The silence felt thick. Every photo, every artifact, every corridor told a story of cruelty and loss. I stood under the iron gate that reads “Arbeit Macht Frei” and felt a knot form in my stomach. I’ve visited other historical sites, but Auschwitz left me heavy. It’s not a place you ever forget.

We were on our own during the visit. We didn’t take a tour, so we moved through the site at our own pace. The experience was powerful, but I know we missed context that a guide could have offered. If you go, I recommend booking a tour. There are plenty of inexpensive options that include transportation and detailed background information. It’s worth it if you want to understand more than just what you see.

Krakow Felt Different—but Not Enough

We continued on to Krakow, hoping for a change of pace. The city had more life. Tourists filled the squares. The streets buzzed with cafés and street performers. Horse-drawn carriages passed under the soft glow of streetlights. It looked and felt more inviting. But the feeling didn’t stick. I still felt watched. Conversations still felt forced. The beauty of the city couldn’t quite cover the tension I felt in people’s eyes. Even in a more tourist-friendly city, being a Black woman in Poland came with emotional weight I hadn’t expected.

What I Think Now

I visited Poland many years ago. I hope my brothers and sisters feel more welcome now. However, there are so many countries I still want to explore—places that feel open and welcoming. So never returning to Poland doesn’t feel like a loss for me, and I doubt it will be for them either.

Poland feels like a country still deciding who it wants to be. It stands at a crossroads—modern cities pulling forward, old prejudices pulling back. I saw signs of progress. But I also saw how deeply some people resist it. Maybe one day, a Black woman in Poland won’t feel unwelcome or draw stares that go beyond curiosity. I’ve been stared at before. This felt different. It felt colder. More hostile–unnecessarily. As if– I’d ever want to move there.

That wasn’t something I could ignore. And it’s something I can’t seem to shake either.

I’ve faced challenges in other places. But I’ve never felt so alone while surrounded by people. I don’t regret going. But I have no reason to return.

Where We Stayed

We booked a room at Park Hotel & Fitness Club in Rzeszów. It’s a quiet property with a peaceful lake and gardens. Ducks swam by as we unpacked, and the hotel grounds felt calm and inviting. The staff was professional. The room was clean and comfortable. Inside the hotel, we had no issues. But once we stepped outside, the feeling changed. Stares returned.

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_{Black in Europe: Why I Will Never Go Back to Poland post is sponsored and/or contains affiliate links, from which I earn a commission at no extra cost to you. Thank you for your support! All opinions are mine.}

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