Memoirs of Women from Mining Families

In 2021, I took a small step that sparked a wave of initiatives, supported by a vast and engaged community. My goal was simple: to read and write together with a group of women in the small mining town of Czerwionka-Leszczyny (population ~30,000). Since then, much has unfolded under the banner of Memoirs of Women from Mining Families, including memoir workshops, three editions of a memoir competition, a participatory exhibition, oral history recordings, project and book promotion events, media coverage, and two editions of the book (published in 2023 and 2024). Additionally, the project has fostered collaboration with numerous institutions. Over nearly four years, I have gathered more than 50 stories – both written and spoken – shared by women who either worked in mining or grew up in mining families within the Upper Silesian Coal Basin, representing three generations. 

The Memoirs of Women from Mining Families project has expanded across the entire Polish part of Upper Silesian Coal Basin (which is going to be closed down by 2049), becoming, in my view, a strong foundation for building an archive of women’s narratives on deindustrialization. Over time, I have come to realize that similar processes have unfolded not only in other parts of Europe but also on other continents. In these regions, female researchers have increasingly advocated for the recognition, commemoration, and appreciation of women’s roles during times of crisis, transition, and transformation. Our collective demand for this acknowledgment is undoubtedly part of a broader transnational movement, yet it remains essential to preserve the unique local character of our region’s story. 

 

Professor Marek Szczepański, perhaps one of the most prominent commentators on the restructuring of the Silesian mining industry, once described housewives in mining families as “crypto-servants”. He argued that their labor is undervalued and that their role should not be dismissed as marginal in the modernization process. At the same time, he criticized them for failing to engage with the realities of restructuring, suggesting that their resistance hindered the process, as they perceived it primarily as a threat of unemployment and poverty. Much has been written about miners’ wives: that they feel lost, that they are reluctant to work, that their stereotype is crumbling, and that they are finally being given a chance to exist or to plan their own future. Yet, the challenge I pose in this project is this: What if we start from the assumption that women are fully capable of deciding for themselves? That they know what matters to them, what they need, and that they possess agency and subjectivity – not because someone grants it to them, but because it is inherently theirs. Women deserve trust. They deserve to be heard. 

And so, I ask you to listen. 

 

Alexandra Abdul-Razak 

When I asked my grandmother if there was anything in her life she feared or regretted, she always answered the same way: nothing. She used to say, I lived through war and poverty, gave birth to fifteen children, and survived the loss of four. I worked just as hard as any man. Every day, when the men went down into the mine, I entrusted them to the Holy Mother. What could I possibly be afraid of? 

 

Hildeagarda Żywczok 

When I was ten, my mother went to work. First, she spent six months in a factory, terrified of having to do the night shifts. Then, for two years, she was a mail carrier in Dębieńsko [a district of Czerwionka-Leszczyny municipality, MG] – a grueling job, battling rain, scorching sun, freezing cold, and snow just to deliver newspapers and letters from the post office. She didn’t last long. Someone suggested, Try the mine. 

 

She somewhat knew the director, but there was no work available on the surface, and only three hundred women worked underground. He assigned her to Team 300. She went down, worked for three months – and then lost her arm. She had been too meticulous, too clean. Sweeping with a brush or a small shovel, she got it caught in a machine. It took her arm with it. 

• Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you all dark? 

• I don’t know, hon. 

• Mom, where’s your arm? 

And she said, Hush, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. At least I get to come back home. 

 

Joanna Kubica 

My father worked on the surface, earning less than those who went down into the mine. For as long as I can remember, my mother would sit at the sewing machine in the evenings – after a full day of cooking, cleaning, and caring for the children. Even then, she had to find time to sew clothes for us, mend garments for neighbors, and stitch curtains, napkins, and tablecloths to earn extra money for our large family. 

 

She had a gift for turning scraps of fabric into beautiful dresses. I always had unique clothes, and my older sister walked down the aisle in a stunning wedding gown – hand-sewn by our mother. When she wasn’t sewing, she was knitting, crocheting, or embroidering. 

 

Stefania Pośpiech 

Women of my mother’s generation in Silesia worked in heavy industry when they were young—in mines, steel mills, or “in the service of the state,” as it was often called. There was a constant shortage of workers. My mother did hard, dirty, and dangerous labor at the sorting plant, where excavated material – transported in carts from the mine shaft – was dumped onto a moving belt. The women’s job was to pick out the stone by hand. 

 

After work, they helped their mothers care for younger siblings, tended small fields, and spent evenings crocheting, knitting, sewing, or plucking feathers in winter. 

My mother worked at the sorting plant for thirteen years. 

 

Magdalena Gościniak 

The Pstrowski mine exists now only in memory – like so many others in Upper Silesia. The last transformation failed, and now we stand on the brink of another. 

 

In September 2018, I truly grasped what mining means when I traveled with friends to Banská Štiavnica for the Golden Salamander parade. It was here that the first higher school of mining in Europe was founded. Today, neither the school nor the mines remain, yet miners from across the world still gather there – Slovaks, Czechs, Hungarians, Poles, Germans, Brits – yes, even those whose countries have not mined ore since the 1980s. 

 

At sunset, they march through the city in full dress uniform, and later, over Burčák (young wine) or miners’ beer (fortified with a stronger spirit), they sketch coal deposits stretching across Europe on napkins, speaking in different languages but understanding one another perfectly. At the time, my non-Silesian friends turned to me and asked, Magda, what is happening here? 

But how do you explain the mining ethos? How do you convey the depth of knowledge, attentiveness, and experience it demands? The familiarity with death, the ability to form tight-knit communities? How do you make someone understand that when you go underground, you are at the mercy of both the elements and the people around you – and that only through them can you make it back to the surface? 

 

*** 

 

How do you explain the role of women in mining families – from the perspective of the family, the local community, and the global economy? How do you make someone see that a woman’s work does not begin only when she steps outside her home? It is women, after all, who – day in and day out – bring their families, their communities, and, in a broader sense, entire societies to the surface, ensuring that life continues on course.  

 

All excerpts are taken from Tales of Women from Mining Families, a book published by the Silesian Library Publishing House in Katowice and edited by Monika Glosowitz. The book was released in November 2024. 

More details about the book [in Polish]: https://bs.katowice.pl/opowiesci-kobiet-z-rodzin-gorniczych/  

More details about the project [in Polish]: https://www.pamietniki.com.pl/ [yet still under construction], https://www.facebook.com/archiwumwegla