The famous Yiddish comedy duo Dzigan and Schumacher, who had their own cabaret company in Warsaw, began to probe antisemitism on stage. In their eerily prescient humor sketch “The Last Jew in Poland,” they portrayed a country suddenly missing its Jews, panicking about its decimated economy and culture. Despite growing intolerance, or perhaps inspired by their discomfort and hope, Jews experienced a golden era of creativity in literature, poetry, theater, philosophy, social action, religious study, and education—all of it enjoyed by the Kukielka family.
Poland’s Jewish community was represented by a multitude of political opinions; each had its own response to this xenophobic crisis. The Zionists had lost patience feeling like second-class citizens and Renia frequently heard her father speak of the need to move to a Jewish homeland where Jews could develop as a people, not bound by class or religion. Led by charismatic intellectuals who championed the Hebrew language, the Zionists disagreed fundamentally with the other parties. The religious party, devoted to Poland, advocated for less discrimination and that Jews be treated like any other citizen. Many Communists supported assimilation, as did many in the upper classes. With time, the largest party was the Bund, a working-class, socialist group that promoted Jewish culture. Bundists were the most optimistic, hoping that Poles would sober up and see that antisemitism wouldn’t solve the country’s problems. The diasporic Bund insisted that Poland was the Jews’ home, and they should stay exactly where they were, continue to speak Yiddish, and demand their rightful place. The Bund organized self-defense units, intent on staying put. “Where we live, that’s our country.” Po-lin.
Fight or flight. Always the question.
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As Renia matured into early adolescence, it’s likely that she accompanied her older sister, Sarah, to youth group activities. Born in 1915, Sarah was nine years older than Renia, and one of her heroes. Sarah, with her piercing eyes and delicate lips that always hinted at a smile, was the omniscient intellectual, the savvy do-gooder whose authority Renia simply felt. One can imagine the sisters, walking side by side at a clipped pace, all duty and energy, both donning the modern fashion of the day: berets, fitted blazers, shin-length pleated skirts, and short cut hair pulled back in neat clips. Renia, a fashionista, would have been put together from head to toe, a standard she upheld her entire life. The interwar style in Poland, influenced by women’s emancipation and by Paris fashions, saw the replacement of jewels, lace, and feathers with a focus on simple cuts and comfort. Makeup was bold, with dark eye shadow and bright-red lipstick, and hairdos and skirts were shortened. （“One could see the entire shoe!” wrote a satirist at the time.） A photo of Sarah in the 1930s shows her wearing low, thick-heeled pumps that allowed her to march—a necessity because women in this era were constant walkers, traveling long distances to work and school by foot. No doubt heads turned when the sisters entered the meeting room.
In the decades between world wars, growing antisemitism and poverty brought about a collective depression among Polish Jewish youths. They felt alienated from their country, their futures uncertain compared with those of their forbears. Jews were not allowed to join the Polish Scouts, and so a hundred thousand joined Jewish youth groups affiliated with the different political parties. These groups provided existential paths and hope for the future. J?drzejów’s young Jews participated in a thriving youth group scene. In some photos, members wear dark colors and pose as sober intellectuals, arms crossed; in others, they stand outdoors in open land, gripping rakes, muscles flexed, tanned, and flushed with life.
Like her father, Sarah was a Zionist, but unlike Moshe, she belonged to Freedom, a group of secular, socialist Labor Zionists. Mainly middle class and worldly, Labor Zionists hoped for a homeland where they would live in collectives, speak Hebrew, and feel a sense of belonging. While they encouraged reading and debate, physicality was also prized as a way to denounce the myth of the slothful, intellectual Jew and to promote personal agency. Engaging in manual labor and contributing to the group’s resources was paramount. They idealized the working of the land; agricultural self-sufficiency went hand in hand with communal and personal independence.
There were several Labor Zionist youth groups—some more intellectual or secular; others devoted to charity, advocacy, or pluralism—but all took traditional Polish values of nationalism, heroism, and individual sacrifice and gave them a Jewish context. Freedom focused on social action and, uniquely, drew members from the Yiddish-speaking working class. The group established summer camps, training camps （hachshara）， and communal farms （kibbutzim） as preparation for emigration, teaching hard labor and cooperative living—often to a parent’s dismay. Not only did Moshe bemoan Freedom for being overly liberated and insufficiently elite, but also “comrades” were prioritized over the birth family, with leaders treated as role models—almost like surrogate parents. Unlike the Scouts or sports organizations, these youth movements touched every part of their members’ lives; they were physical, emotional and spiritual training grounds. Young people defined themselves based on their group.