What time did you set out this morning?

At 5 am. I was up at 2, because there's a shower to have, clothes to put on, things to get ready, and then I had to catch the night tram from Jeżyce, where I live, this time to Franowo, all the way across the city. There, as usual, I collected my tram paperwork and keys and then spent quite some time trying to find my tram, this being Poland's biggest tram depot. I then had to run a systems check and was ready to go. I was out on the tracks until almost 2, which explains why I'm so hungry. I had actually ordered takeaway before you arrived.

Today is such a scorcher. What's it like driving in this heat?

It's actually not too bad, as the majority of trams are air-conditioned, and on those that aren't, there's dedicated ventilation in the driver's cab. In the 1950s, those boxy, carriage-like trams that recently disappeared from Poznań's streets had these funny little fans. These days, you'd have to be very unlucky to end up on a tram without AC. As you can see, it's quite bearable.

What made you become a tram driver?

The thought first occurred to me when I was a teenager. I also considered working on the railways, but eventually I opted for trams - lower speeds and less road traffic. I suppose it was partly a matter of personal interests and partly a question of common sense. It's a job I genuinely enjoy, but it also provides me with a sense of security.

That sounds like a very mature decision. How old are you?

Twenty-four.

You're a very young girl!

I get that a lot at work, particularly because you can't obtain a tram driving licence until you're twenty-one. That means that many public transport enthusiasts look forward to turning twenty-one even more eagerly than they once looked forward to turning eighteen. I got my licence last year: I began the course in September, passed the test in December, picked up my licence in January and have started driving in February.

The full cost of the course, which isn't cheap, is paid by the future employer, which guarantees me a job once I've obtained my licence, and in exchange I've committed to working for the public transport company for at least three years.

Once I had completed sixty hours of hands-on training with an instructor on trams specially adapted for the purpose, I took the exams - just like car drivers do - at Poznań's Provincial Road Traffic Centre.

Did everything go to plan?

It went well, although during the training I came across pretty much every scenario you'd find on a simulator - a line of pedestrians, an elderly person crossing a street on a red light, and various other surprises. So when I began driving all by myself, the biggest hurdle was getting over my fear of handling a huge vehicle packed with passengers in a city full of people and other vehicles. Especially as the tram I drove at first was the "105', the Konstal 105Na made in Chorzów, an iconic Polish tram that, by then, was due for a well-deserved retirement.

The newest trams are, of course, a different proposition, as you steer them with a joystick-like device. But my favourite is the Tatra RT6 - a "creaky' tram that is something of a Poznań speciality and was partly manufactured in Cegielski Works under a Czech licence. It may be uncomfortable for passengers but it's also a driver's dream, as it practically drives itself. This model, too, will soon vanish from our streets.

Do you drive different trams on different routes?

I do. I drive a bunch of different models, and naturally, only the ones I've been trained to operate - and I do work on different routes. Today I was on standby, which meant waiting at the terminus, ready to take a tram out if, for any reason - be it a breakdown, an accident or heavy soiling - a tram already in service had to be withdrawn. Tomorrow, though, I'll be working routes 14 and 15. However, my favourite route, and I'm certainly not alone in that, is route 16. I particularly enjoy driving it on the Siemens Combino.

For tram drivers, it's a premium route, because there are long stretches where you can travel at up to fifty kilometres per hour. There's also lots of greenery, beautiful architecture in the city centre and the bridge over the Warta River along the way. And, crucially, it's difficult to fall behind schedule. As someone born and bred in Poznań, I'm very fond of this route.

Did you become a tram driver after your transition?

That's right. In fact, I haven't told anyone at work that I'm transgender. I only mentioned it while completing the occupational health form which contained a question about menstruation that obviously didn't apply to me. I'd already changed my legal name, so everything went smoothly.

You're not the only LGBT+ person working for the company, are you?

No, I'm not - there are a bunch of us, and we know some of them. Naturally, some are more open about it than others - it's a personal choice, and I think that's perfectly fine.

Aren't you concerned that this interview could come back to bite you?

No, why would it? If someone has an issue with my trans identity, that's their problem, not mine. At the public transport company, anyway, we try to steer clear of potentially controversial subjects. We're tram drivers and our job is to drive trams. Do I do that any less well simply because I'm a trans woman? People should be allowed to live as they see fit. As you can see, I'm wearing my badge on a lanyard from the Great Orchestra of Christmas Charity, while someone else has one from the Border Defence Movement, and we all work for the same company.

So, are you happy with your employer?

Very much. I've never experienced discrimination, and I hope it stays that way. The fundamental rule of my job - one that was also emphasised repeatedly during health and safety training - is to use common sense, both on and off the route. I think that principle serves us pretty well.

Eight years ago, there was a row over rainbow flags on trams that had been placed there at the request of the Stonewall Group. A bunch of tram drivers protested against them, but the row was short-lived. Did that controversy cross your mind when you applied for the job?

I did remember it - I even own one of those flags - but as far as I am concerned, that chapter is closed. I believe that a company such as this should, quite rightly, remain neutral and stay out of situations that could provoke controversy or conflict, because it provides a service to all the city's residents.

When did you first become aware of your queer identity?

During my teenage years, when I was about fifteen. It was around the time Mayor Jacek Jaśkowiak attended his first parade. I was there too and although I didn't fully understand what it was all about, I wanted to be there. Then came Covid, my eighteenth birthday and, with adulthood, serious decisions surrounding my transition - starting with hormones and then dealing with all the formalities. Although it really wasn't that long ago, it already seems like a distant past. I'm in an entirely different place now, planning my way forward. I'm not going back to the way things used to be.

I think there's something genuinely brilliant about a young person who has transitioned, works as a tram driver for the city's public transport company, and can tell me her story openly, without fear - that's the Poznań I like!

I'll share my secret for enjoying life, although I'm sure this will be highly controversial for many LGBT+ people.

I am all ears.

I've stopped making a show of it.

Isn't that just what the conservatives like to prescribe!

Yes, but that doesn't mean I'm "hiding at home', living a double life or scared to do something. That's not how I mean it. I'm transgender, so what? I don't spend every day walking around with a rainbow flag on my T-shirt. I don't tell other people what they should think, and I find that approach works pretty well. Today, as you can see, I'm wearing a T-shirt with the Polish eagle because it's Polish Army Day. And I'm not wearing it just for a laugh - I love my country. I think the world is more complicated than the black-and-white picture many people have of it, and that we can be different while still acting in a civilised way.

Everything you say is so composed, reasonable, upbeat and remarkably free of unnecessary drama.

I've faced my share of drama and hardship. I won't pretend otherwise. We had to work our way through them. My parents have been incredibly supportive. They love me and are proud of their daughter, but we've had a long journey to make together and had to switch tracks and find our way back to a normal life, because being transgender didn't mean I suddenly grew an extra pair of ears. I'm an ordinary person. For my dad and me, that ordinary life includes things like going to Lech matches together - we're both devoted supporters of the football team.

And friends and acquaintances?

Even in secondary school, and later during the almost one year I spent at university, I was always open about who I was. Those who had a problem with trans identity naturally drifted away, while those who didn't remained. But I have to say that it isn't really a major issue for generation Z, to which I belong. For us, being queer isn't particularly unusual, which is why a lot of people simply shrugged and carried on.

And the professors?

Let's just say I studied at the Faculty of History at Adam Mickiewicz University, so you can probably imagine.

I'm thinking hardcore conservatives. Is that why you left?

No. I left because I realised that university simply wasn't for me and that I would rather be part of the working class.

Do you consider yourself part of Poznań's queer community?

Absolutely. I used to feel more closely connected to it because I went to places such as Lokum - where we're sitting now - much more often. These days, my work schedule means I'm here less frequently - the hours, plus the need to be rested and sober, put pretty severe limits on my nightlife. The tram isn't going to leave the depot at the crack of dawn by itself.

Poznań is home to a major tram manufacturer, Modertrans, which has become the butt of jokes related to the LGBT+ community. Do you find them amusing?

Always, and I'm certainly not the only one. There's an Instagram profile called Transgender Trucks, run by transgender people, where they post photos of all vehicles belonging to transport companies whose names contain the word "trans'. Modertrans, whose trams I drive, is also featured. So when it comes to "trans', I have double credentials: personal and professional.

We're speaking on the day the Parliament passed the bill on the status of "the closest person'. What's your take on it?

Łukasz Kaszuba: "On this glorious day, may we all rejoice!" Seriously though, I'm finding it difficult to describe it fairly - perhaps a rotten compromise?

Łukasz Bartecki: I see the bill primarily as an attempt to get the government off the hook. And, of course, the President will surely veto it [the bill was vetoed on 17 August 2026 - ed.].

Łukasz Kaszuba: Which is precisely why we have to keep the pressure on politicians. Nowhere in the world have LGBT+ people simply been handed their rights without a fight. Everywhere, there have been protests, resistance, revolt - pressure in one form or another, sustained activism on every front, and education. Poland is no different. And the various opinion polls tell us one thing very clearly: most people don't regard our demands as some fanciful wish list, nor do they see us as frightening outsiders who can be used to scare the public time and again. We're no different from anyone else. We have the same needs as everyone else - equality among them.

How long have you been together?

Łukasz Kaszuba: Over two decades, nearly as long as Poland has been a member of the European Union. We moved in together about two years after we met. Surely, after all this time, we've earned the right to be recognised as "the closest person'.

I'd say you deserve considerably more than that.

Łukasz Kaszuba: Absolutely. I consider Łukasz my husband, even though Polish law still denies me that right.

Łukasz Bartecki: For me, it's not really about what they choose to call the law - "closest person', "tenant plus' or whatever else. What matters is having genuine civil rights. As a same-sex couple, we still don't have them, despite having shared our lives for two decades.

If the President were to sign this bill, would you invoke it?

Łukasz Kaszuba: There's little point in speculating. I'll make that decision if and when the law actually comes into force. Especially since we've recently been considering getting married abroad, now that court rulings have made it possible for such marriages to be recorded in a Polish civil register. Germany seems the obvious choice: it's the closest and most convenient option for us. But that raises another question: if we married there and had the marriage recorded in a Polish civil register, how would that relate to the Act on the Status of the Closest Person. We'd need to look into that very carefully.

Did you consider getting married before registry offices were required to register marriages?

Łukasz Bartecki: We'd raised it several times but eventually decided that it wouldn't really change anything for us in Poland. We were holding out for some meaningful change in the law, and now that things have begun to move, our discussions about marriage have gathered pace.

Łukasz Kaszuba: We've known for years that ours is a committed relationship, and that formalising it would make sense - both for our peace of mind and for the practical benefits it would bring. Given the opportunity, we'd get married immediately. Since we don't have it, we're simply making the best of the circumstances.

I am hearing disappointment in your voice.

Łukasz Kaszuba: It's because, during the dark years of the previous governments, we regularly joined demonstrations in defence of the rule of law, as did a large proportion of Poznań's residents. Sometimes we marched with torches, sometimes with rainbow flags, hoping that once the government changed, we too would finally enjoy the same rights that LGBT+ people have in the West. The government did change, partly because of people like us, yet very little has improved for us. What we have achieved, largely through the courts, is only a temporary opening: the possibility of having foreign marriage certificates recorded in a Polish civil register. And that window could slam shut at any time, with the next election.

A step forward and a step backward?

Łukasz Kaszuba: More like three steps backward. And it's not just happening here - we're seeing the same thing elsewhere, including in the United States. The history of the LGBT+ movement shows that the struggle for rights is never over. Sadly, nothing can be taken for granted, nor can we assume that anything has been won for good.

Is being together for more than twenty years a long time in the gay world?

Łukasz Kaszuba: We don't make a point of boasting about it, because the duration of our relationship doesn't define us and is hardly an achievement in itself.

It seems to me that, in an age when people walk away at the first sign of trouble, it might be something to take pride in.

Łukasz Bartecki: This may come as a surprise to you, but we've never really argued.

Łukasz Kaszuba: I can vouch for that!

Łukasz Bartecki: I don't mean we've never had the occasional spat. Of course we have. But we've never had one of those full-blown rows where a suitcase ends up flying out of the window. And, if I may be a little immodest, I think my attitude has a lot to do with it. I see bickering as a waste of time. What's the point of being together if all you're going to do is take offence at each other? It's much better to sit down and talk things through.

Łukasz Kaszuba: I think I've been more fortunate than wise in this respect. By an extraordinary stroke of luck, I met a man like Łukasz when I was still relatively young, and before long, we had built a lasting relationship. Needless to say, we've had plenty to work through. We're very different in many respects, but we've had to find common ground and build on it.

How did you first meet?

Łukasz Bartecki: Łukasz was still enrolled at university in Germany, so it had to be a gay dating site that brought us together.

Łukasz Kaszuba: I was twenty-three, Łukasz was thirty-one. We were both young and handsome.

Łukasz Bartecki: We spent the first two months getting to know each other and building up anticipation online. Then Łukasz came back to Poznań, moved to Łazarz, and we started building a life together in the real world.

Łukasz Kaszuba: Łukasz introduced me to the local gay scene, which he knew inside out. He was older than me and also a Poznań native. I was a boy from Świebodzin who had returned from an Erasmus exchange to continue studying law at Adam Mickiewicz University, and suddenly I found myself discovering a completely new and fascinating world. I should add that, although Świebodzin isn't actually all that far away, it meant absolutely nothing to anyone in Poznań back then. But all that is now ancient history.

Did you settle into Poznań quickly?

Łukasz Kaszuba: Almost immediately, I suppose partly because Wielkopolska is in my blood; my dad comes from Środa. I've always felt completely at home here.

Łukasz Bartecki: And I'm a Grunwald lad through and through. I went to school here and have never lived anywhere other than Poznań, not even briefly. After studying hotel management, I spent three years working at one of the city's hotels. Then, when our paths parted, a friend suggested I give hairdressing a shot. This turned out to be a very good idea. I took another course and have been working in the profession ever since, for the past few years at one of the salons on ul. Półwiejska.

Łukasz Kaszuba: I'd always aspired to become a lawyer, much to my parents' delight. What they hadn't anticipated was that I would choose European studies, which was still a relatively new field within our faculty of law at the time. I was fascinated by the combination of legal studies and the strong emphasis on foreign-language learning. To this day, I'm confident I made the right choice. My career subsequently took a few unexpected turns and eventually led me into IT, where I've remained, holding various corporate tech positions. But why bore you with our day jobs? Let's get Łukasz to tell you about what gay life was like in Poznań in the last century!

Łukasz Bartecki: Am I really that old?

When did you first realise you were gay?

Łukasz Bartecki: It took me a while. I grew up in a very different world, where nobody even knew the word gay. The terms generally used were homosexual and pederast. I can't remember ever hearing anything good said about homosexuality, so accepting it in myself was far from easy. In secondary school, in the late 1980s, I obviously realised I was attracted to men, but I didn't act on it. Things really began to change when I went to university. As part of my studies, I did work placements in various places, including a restaurant in Malta, whose head chef knew the local gay scene well. That was where I met the first gay men.

Were they cool?

Łukasz Bartecki: Definitely. One of them, in particular, caught my attention. After spending several days trying to work up the nerve to approach him, I asked the head chef about him. I was told he worked in one of the bars, so I went there, left my phone number and asked him to call me back. Eventually, he did. And that was how my gay life in Poznań took off, along with my first relationship. Before long, I got to know what you might call the entire gay scene.

Where did you used to hang out?

Łukasz Bartecki: In Dżambalai, for instance, at ul. Sienkiewicza and ul. Prusa. Or on ul. Ściegiennego, where - believe it or not - there was a place that operated as a pizzeria during the day and turned into a gay bar on Fridays and Saturdays. That was an amazing time.

Time spent in the closet?

Łukasz Bartecki: Outside my immediate social circle, yes. I didn't have the courage to come out to my parents back then, which I now regret, as my parents have passed away. Robert, my first boyfriend, used to visit us at our home. My parents knew him and I think they had an inkling. We just never discussed it. Today, obviously, everyone knows I'm gay - times have changed.

Łukasz Kaszuba: As we've established, I stem from a small town where LGBT+ issues simply weren't talked about. I had always sensed that I was somehow different, although, at first I couldn't put my finger on what that difference was. What I did know was that I wanted to move to a large city, live independently and be free to be myself, whatever that might mean. I came out in my early twenties, by which point I was living independently and had made Poznań my home. I'd be lying if I claimed that my loved ones were particularly shocked. I am fortunate to have a very good relationship with my family. Coming out is kind of a "trial by fire' that, I imagine, every LGBT+ person experiences, and it can be stressful even when you're surrounded by supportive people. Besides, it isn't really a single trial at all, but many, because coming out doesn't happen just once; it is something you have to do repeatedly, which I don't think many straight people fully appreciate.

Where have you settled?

Łukasz Kaszuba: We've been moving around quite a bit, living in Jeżyce, Rataje, Polanka and Łazarz before settling in Wilda, where we've now lived for seven years. One important thing is that we've never had to pretend we were cousins, which is one of the advantages of living in Poznań.

Łukasz Bartecki: And we've never experienced any unpleasantness from our neighbours because of being a couple.

How do you manage not to get bored with each other after twenty years?

Łukasz Bartecki: There's no getting away from routine, but routine isn't necessarily a bad thing, and it certainly doesn't have to mean boredom. I don't think we've ever found each other boring. We have a whole range of interests, some of them completely different. We're comfortable spending time together, but we're equally  comfortable doing things separately.

Łukasz Kaszuba: It's often said that most divorce applications are filed in the autumn, after couples come back from their holidays. We never look forward to the end of our holidays together. If I had to identify what has kept us interested in each other, I'd say it's our shared fascination with the world and with each other. It also helps to be willing to venture beyond your comfort zone, although that naturally becomes harder as you get older, when we tend to value stability and predictability more highly. But being open to what another person has to offer may surprise you. And there's something else that matters: spending time with other people. We genuinely love socialising and have a very active social life.

Łukasz Bartecki: Łukasz is unquestionably the more dynamic of the two of us; he's usually the one who gets things moving and comes up with endless ideas. When I'm perfectly happy lying on the sofa, Łukasz will suggest that we get up and go somewhere, and somehow it works -  a few minutes later, I'm up and ready to go. Besides, after more than twenty years together, I think we've become a pretty successful partnership; we know we can always count on each other.

Łukasz Kaszuba: I am sure this is going to sound to everyone like a completely fabricated, sugar-coated story!

What is it then that you don't like about each other?

Łukasz Bartecki: I used to find Łukasz's tendency to get worked up quite difficult. It would terrify me because I'd immediately start asking myself whether it was my fault, which only aggravated the tension. Now I understand that this is simply part of his character, so I don't let it get under my skin anymore.

Łukasz Kaszuba: In my defence, I'd say that I simply have an intense inner life. If there's one thing that can still bug me, it's probably Łukasz's reluctance to plan ahead or think far into the future - although, naturally, that's also one of the qualities I value in him.

You've spent the whole conversation looking at each other with such affection...

Łukasz Bartecki: That's because we genuinely love each other.

Łukasz Kaszuba: And it matters that we continue to tell each other that. If you still feel compelled to say "I love you" to someone, that's a pretty good indication that things are going well.

You seem to fit in really well in Poznań. Does the city feel like home?

Łukasz Bartecki: Completely. Although I think we've lived here for so long that we sometimes take it for granted. For us, rainbow Poznań is just how things are. The truth is that you don't find the same atmosphere everywhere. We travel a lot, so we're aware of the difference. Even among Poland's largest cities - Warsaw perhaps being the one exception - it's difficult to find a gay scene that is as vibrant, friendly and enjoyable as Poznań's.

Łukasz Kaszuba: As a Poznań resident by choice, I can honestly say I couldn't have picked a better place in Poland. Poznań is a brilliant city to live in, but it didn't just happen by itself. It's the result of the work of countless people: community organisers, artists, activists and, naturally, LGBT+ people themselves. I remember that twenty years ago, when we were returning from a holiday in Spain, we marvelled at the gay scene there. Today we have one just like it here at home - on the scale you'd expect in a compact city, of course - and we have every reason to be proud of it.

When we first met, the thing that caught my eye was your long, painted nails.

I've always liked having well-groomed nails and I've always been interested in cosmetics, so these nails, unconventional for a bloke, are, you could say, a reflection of that. Back in Konin, where I'm from, I couldn't really get away with it, as you can imagine. Moving to Poznań gave me the freedom to experiment. I started with a subtle shine, and before long I was sporting nail extensions longer than any of my female colleagues at work. These days they're a bit shorter, but still noticeable.

How do people react to them?

At work, and I've held several jobs, reactions have been mostly positive, particularly from women, who enjoy complimenting me and asking questions, often noting that they'd love nails like that themselves. When I worked in the beauty industry, my nails were practically a selling point. I also get occasional social media comments. People are curious about my nails and why I have them. They sometimes ask about them in comments to photos posted on social media by my boyfriend, Arek. So yes, there's definitely interest, and no one has ever been rude to my face about them.

Not even at the Lech stadium, where Arek and you go to watch matches?

Not even there, though I can tell from people's faces and stares that they are, shall we say, intrigued. When my nails were longer and painted, I caused quite a stir among checkout cashiers when placing items on conveyor belts. But times change, and these days painted nails on a man barely raise eyebrows, especially in Poznań.

Did your mum like them?

She did. When she first saw them, she said she'd love a set like that herself, though a bit shorter. She's never insisted I cut mine down, always supportive, always on my side. Much like my boyfriend, who has never been fazed either, though I suspect he'd prefer them shorter.

And what are these nails actually made of?

When I had extensions, they were gel. You apply it with a mould, cure it under a lamp, and paint it any colour you like, which for me is always almost natural.

Are they hard to live with day to day?

It's a matter of getting used to. There are both downsides and upsides. For instance, they are tricky for picking up coins, but perfect for flipping bacon in a frying pan!

Are they part of your queer identity?

Honestly, I've never really framed it that way before, but now that you mention it, I suppose they are. I definitely feel more queer with them, though other aspects of my look might suggest that as well.

When did these queer elements appear in your life?

I can't pinpoint the exact moment I realised I was gay. It certainly became part of my identity during secondary school. It was gradual: at first, I thought I might be bi, and even had heterosexual relationships, including a girlfriend with whom I still get on well. Yet even in middle school I had this gut feeling that I was different. It was in fact there even in primary school, though at the time it wasn't something I really knew, I wasn't aware of anything. Others seemed to notice though - they'd call me names and shove me around, which wasn't difficult as I've always been skinny.

Did you bring it up at home that you were being bullied?

I did, and my fierce mum would immediately storm off to school, demanding that those responsible be punished.

Did your parents have any inkling of why this was happening?

I'm not sure. When I came out much later, my mum said she might have suspected something, though she was still surprised, which in turn surprised me, because to me it felt so obvious.

Do you have any siblings?

Yes and no. I'm an only child, but I have honorary siblings. My mum has a sister who is my age, technically my aunt, but for all intents and purposes, she's always been more like a sister to me, and we're still very close. Then there are the two daughters of my mum's partner. One of them is my age; we met back in middle school, and it was actually through the two of us that our parents met and ended up together - they still are today.

You appear to have an incredibly strong bond with your mum.

She's my best friend. I've always been able to tell her everything - well, almost everything. My relationship with my dad, though, has had its ups and downs, and my parents' divorce while I was in middle school certainly didn't help. There were good and bad times, including periods when we barely spoke. These days we hardly keep in touch at all.

Why?

When I finally came to terms with my sexuality and what it meant for my life, I remembered how my dad, and other family members, reacted to gay people on TV, and the kind of language they used, even towards me. I realised I couldn't accept that. My mum, even before she knew I was gay, would react immediately every time she heard any crude, homophobic remarks: "Don't say that!", she'd snap, short and sharp. As for my dad, I eventually reached a point in life where I thought: if someone doesn't accept or respect me for who I am, there's no point pretending. It's better to sever ties and in fact it's simply more honest. I should add that I've never openly discussed my sexuality with my dad; he found out about me on Facebook.

We'll come to that shortly, but I'm curious: did you ever explore the Konin gay scene?

Not really. Only now, years later, am I discovering through Facebook and Instagram that this or other person is actually gay. Back then, I had no idea and long believed I was the only one.

Hang on, you were born in 1998, so by the time you were a teenager in the 2010s, the Internet was already well established.

True, but I was more of a withdrawn, guarded, sensitive type. I'd never have dared reach out, even though everything inside me was bubbling. Eventually, it was my friend who took the risk and made the first step. I was eighteen at the time. My had broken up with my girlfriend, ending my belief that I was bi. I was starting a new chapter in my life, which also coincided with me moving to Poznań.

Was Konin not a good place to be?

It was, but only up to a certain age. I had loads of friends, amazing mates. We were close, we partied and studied together. I also spent a huge chunk of my time practising contemporary dance, which I learned for several years at the Konin Cultural Centre. I loved it, but sadly, that chapter ended rather dramatically when I suffered a displaced fracture of the femur. I ended up in a wheelchair and basically had to relearn how to walk, so a professional dance career was no longer in the cards.

How did that Facebook coming-out go in 2023?

My partner posted a photo of us on Facebook sitting together and holding hands at the Lech stadium, with the caption: " (Not) football brings us together, but I took him to the match," followed by a few little hearts. Arek asked if he could post it and I agreed. Only after the match did I realise this was essentially my public coming-out.

Who had already known before that?

My mum, my grandparents on my mum's side, and my mum's partner, along with his family.

How did those who hadn't known react?

I received loads of likes and hearts, even from relatives on my dad's side of the family, but not from him.

Didn't he call?

No, which, of course, is a reaction in itself. A negative one. And yes, it hurts.

You mentioned that your mum already knew. How did that come about?

I told her. After I moved to Poznań, I invited her over for a weekend, determined it was time to come clean. She accepted. I picked her up at the station and took her to my flat in the Winogrady district, which I shared with a female friend. We sat down, and I was terribly nervous. She could sense it and got anxious too. We both sat there on pins and needles until I finally blurted out: "I'm gay." We cried, downed some beer, talked for hours, and later went to Duże Lokum on Półwiejska Street, the now-closed queer club run by Arek Kluk.

Did you start studying and working in Poznań right away?

Yes, that was the condition for moving out. Mum said she'd support me as much as she could, but the money she sent wasn't enough to live on in Poznań, so I needed to find work quickly. I studied from morning to afternoon and then worked from late afternoon into the evening, at first, naturally, in the restaurant business.

Was Poznań an obvious choice for someone from Konin?

It was, for fairly obvious reasons: it's close, has good universities, and also, some of my friends had already moved there a year earlier, having graduated from comprehensive high schools while I was still in technical school, which takes an extra year to complete. They'd already blazed the trail and I simply followed in their footsteps.

What sort of technical school was it?

It was part of the Mikołaj Kopernik School Complex. I chose hotel management, graduated as a hotel technician and later went on to study commodity science at the Poznań University of Economics.

Why not continue with hotel management or tourism?

Hotel management was typically offered at private universities, which I couldn't afford. Besides, by that time, I was very much into cosmetics and wanted to major in something related. I discovered that the University of Economics offered a commodity science specialisation at graduate level, but to get in, I needed a bachelor's degree. That's how I ended up studying commodity science, and I actually learned a great deal. In the end though, I never enrolled in a graduate programme - life just swept me away.

When did this passion for cosmetics begin?

Back in middle school. I started doing my mum's make-up and also that of my female friends, and being gay, I had plenty of female friends. I practised, learned to do make-up, discovered more about cosmetics, and, after moving to Poznań, started doing my own subtle make-up as well, which I still wear today.

Did you eventually start doing make-up professionally?

At first, I did make-up for women for special occasions. Later I applied to Sephora. I imagined it'd be a part-time job where I could gain experience and get access to better, more expensive products. Instead, it turned into a full-time job at the Poznań Sephora, first as a make-up consultant, and eventually as sales floor manager and specialist. I didn't love the sales part of it. What really interested me was make-up training. Sephora offers fantastic learning opportunities, top trainers, travel, and access to premium cosmetics. I took advantage of that more than once, including a training trip to Paris.

So why did you leave Sephora after three years?

Because I had to choose to either stay with Sephora or build my own business with Arek. I chose the latter, and last autumn we opened Los Maricones, a gay bar in the Jeżyce district.

You founded it not just as business partners but also as a couple. How long have you been together?

We met at a party in Lokum on Półwiejska Street, the same place I took my mum after coming out. I already knew that Arek was the manager and president of Stonewall Group. I'd taken part in the pride marches he organised in Poznań. At first, he was a nodding acquaintance. But in 2023, something sparked between us. I began turning up at the new castle venue of Lokum more often, and when I invited Arek over for dinner one evening, he stayed till breakfast. A few months later we moved in together, and we're still living together now. I've had a few flings before, but this is my first serious relationship.

Does your mum like Arek?

Very much, they get on brilliantly. I also have a good relationship with Arek's parents. My mum knows them too, and whenever everyone visits Poznań, we spend lovely time together. We live in the same Jeżyce townhouse where our bar is located, so we literally go to work in our slippers. And when we switch on the neon sign and crank up the music and people start drifting in, we sip cocktails and laugh, and I find myself thinking that queer Poznań really is amazing.

What can a neighbourhood councillor do?

Act as a voice for local residents.

And what does acting as such a voice entail?

Whenever the city puts forward proposals, be it for pavement construction or changes to a tram route, it invites our feedback. In our role as elected councillors, we review these proposals and respond accordingly: offering our backing, voicing objections, or recommending adjustments through formal resolutions, which express our opinions. While the city is not bound by these opinions, they are generally expected to be given due consideration as a matter of good practice, particularly as they reflect the views of the residents, which in my case are those living in the Jeżyce district. The council may also put forward its own ideas, highlighting concerns such as disruptive noise or areas that may pose safety concerns and that require particular attention.

Do you have a budget to draw on?

We do, although it is relatively limited compared with the city's overall funding. Even so, it is sufficient to support smaller-scale improvements and host a handful of social and cultural events each year, including "Summer in Jeżyce'. It is worth noting that part of this funding comes from parking fees collected in the neighbourhood.

Are residents interested in elections for the housing estate council?

The turnout in Jeżyce in the most recent elections was roughly four percent, which is undeniably low. That said, we're not disheartened and remain hopeful to see an improvement. There's still a great deal to be done to boost public awareness. It's vital for residents to understand that elections don't stop at the level of mayor or city council - neighbourhood councils exist too, and they are arguably the closest to everyday concerns. Much of our work focuses on seemingly minor issues that, taken together, make a tangible difference to the quality of life: an even pavement, a bicycle stand, a newly planted tree, a nice playground, or a comfortable bench.

Is this your first term as a councillor?

Yes, it is - I'm currently in my third year. My involvement began quite unexpectedly, following a chance encounter on the street with someone running for the council. That's when I discovered the existence of neighbourhood councils and became curious. I attended a few sessions of the Jeżyce Neighbourhood Council, which are open to the public, and over time got to know those involved. In the end, with encouragement from Adam Dzionek, chair of the Jeżyce Neighbourhood Council Board, I decided to put myself forward as a candidate.

This work is voluntary, isn't it?

It is - we're not salaried and only provided with allowances to cover the costs that come with being a councillor.

Are you a native of Jeżyce?

No, like many people here, I came from elsewhere. I moved to Poznań from Inowrocław in 2012 to begin my studies and, apart from a short stint in Warsaw, I've remained ever since. I studied International Relations with a focus on diplomacy at Adam Mickiewicz University, as I had plans to enter the diplomatic service. With that in mind, after finishing my undergraduate degree, I moved to Warsaw to pursue a master's degree at the University of Warsaw. Being in the capital allowed me to undertake the internships I was keen on, first at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, followed by the President's Office. It was a fascinating experience and a valuable learning opportunity.

Let's circle back to Poznań. Why did you choose to come here to study?

It was a combination of factors: the quality of the university, it's convenient distance from Inowrocław, and the fact that several friends from secondary school had already chosen Poznań. That made the transition much easier - I wasn't stepping into an entirely unknown environment. We ended up living in Łazarz and starting afresh, and at one point I also spent a semester in Ghent as part of the Erasmus programme.

A beautiful city.

It is indeed, although I must admit that that experience made me appreciate Poznań, and Poland as a whole, even more. Travelling often has that effect: it allows you to return home with fresh eyes.

What sort of home did you grow up in? 

A warm, happy and complete one. I look back on my childhood very fondly. My father was running a business, and my mother devoted her time to raising me, my brother and my sister. I'm the youngest of the three.

Mum's little darling?

Without a doubt.

And a swot?

I'd say I did reasonably well at school. In fact, I'm the first member of my family to enrol in a full-time programme at university.

To study in Poznań, we've covered that. A flat in Łazarz, we've covered that too. So how did you end up in Jeżyce?

That was over a decade ago. Warsaw was exciting, but it's difficult to sustain yourself on unpaid internships. And in truth, I've never been especially career-oriented - I see myself as more of a social activist. So, after three years, I left my small place near Plac Żelaznej Bramy and came back to Poznań.

To your boyfriend?

We first met at a farewell party I threw before leaving for Warsaw. Adam turned up with someone else, and we only got together later, around a year before my return to Poznań. Initially, we were in a long-distance relationship, but it suited us quite well. The train journey isn't long, only two and a half hours, and we got to miss each other, and with flats in both cities, we made it work. Eventually, I decided to come back, partly for Adam, it's fair to say. By then, I was living on ul. Jeżycka in Jeżyce, since that's where he was based.

A good choice?

Of boyfriend? Definitely. Of neighbourhood? Equally so. It's easily the most vibrant district in Poznań, almost a self-contained town. That's what makes it so appealing. Everything is within reach: a market square, cinema, theatre, restaurants, a library, hair salons, bars, shops - everything you might need. In theory, you could never set foot outside it. It truly feels like home. Jeżyce is also strikingly colourful in a social sense - the queer community here is large and visible. During Poznań Pride in June, rainbow flags line many balconies, including ours. There are numerous queer-run venues, as well as a gay bar - Los Maricones. Overall, I feel our visibility in the city comes less from slogans or large-scale demonstrations, though we do have an excellent parade, and more from everyday presence, grassroots activism and running local businesses. That's something I value deeply.

Is there anything you'd change in Jeżyce?

I'd always advocate for more greenery, as it remains relatively scarce in such a densely built-up part of the city. That's why I'm particularly happy about the planned redevelopment of ul. Kościelna, the so-called "oval section', running from the tunnel to ul. Wąska. It is due to be turned into a green, recreational area, suitable for dance nights, open-air cinema, food truck festivals, and the like. This is going to be a major improvement.

And when did you come out?

My sister was the first person I told, and she didn't take it too well at first, so I shared quite a bit of educational materials for her to study. Over time, things improved significantly, and she eventually became my big ally. I came out to my friends at Secondary School No. 1 in Inowrocław, and I must say it was more of a problem for me than it was for them. They were incredibly supportive and encouraged me not to hold back and to be myself, which really helped me grow in confidence. I started to explore gay life and even arrived in Poznań with a boyfriend. I came out to my parents while at university, first to my mum, who, like many mothers, suggested I should wait before telling my father, as he needed preparation time. So, he only learned a few years later.

How did he react?

With silence - a long silence. I ended up moving back to Poznań shortly afterwards. Like my sister and mother before him, my father needed time, and I accept that. Still, I couldn't live as if I weren't gay. My mum was caught in the middle, trying to smooth things over. My father eventually came to terms with it in his own way. In the end, Adam and I were invited to spend Christmas at my parents' home. Today, my father is very fond of my partner. I sometimes joke that if he had to choose between us, he'd pick Adam.

How long have you been together?

It's been ten years now. A very good decade, we're happy together, and we're happy to be in Poznań. We both have corporate jobs and follow a fairly standard weekday routine, Monday to Friday. Saturdays are reserved for chores - shopping, cleaning the flat, preparing lunch - and then getting ready to go out in the evening. We like having friends over for house parties, going to the Castle's film club, and taking walks around Rusałka. At home, when Adam is working on translations - he's a Finnish philologist by training - I'll be gaming, but we're still together, sharing a double desk. I sometimes think that even if we weren't a couple, we'd still be friends.

Does the LGBT+ community play a significant role in your lives?

Living in a city with such a visible, open and diverse LGBT+ community does wonders for our living comfort. This may be even more crucial for young people who are just starting to explore their identities. That's when those rainbow flags on balconies matter the most, just as seeing queer people in bars, cinemas and schools, witnessing people coming out and hearing stories from LGBT+ figures in public life. That's what everyday life in Poznań looks like for us.

I suppose it's also the fact that your being gay wasn't an issue at all when you got involved with the Jeżyce Neighbourhood Council.

Exactly, it simply doesn't register as anything unusual. In Poznań, nobody raises an eyebrow at a gay man running for office, and that in itself is significant. You notice it in everyday life too. In our housing community, for instance, my neighbour and I host social gatherings twice a year: everyone brings food and drink, we put on music, and the atmosphere is nice. That's how we got to know one another - we're not strangers, and everyone knows that Adam and I are a couple. I value that sense of neighbourhood, grassroots involvement and improving the space around us. I like contributing to the communities closest to me, and I feel I get a lot back in return. I believe that small communities can be really strong. The same applies to Poznań's LGBT+ community, although this one is far from small.

What drew you to tennis in the first place?

Tennis has been a lifelong interest of mine, mainly through following it on TV. After I turned thirty, I think it was while watching the US Open, it occurred to me to give it a shot. I stumbled on a Groupon deal for five lesson, and I snapped it up. That's how it started. I then fell in love with tennis and the feeling was mutual.

Do you still practice regularly?

You could say I'm a recreational player. Tennis is my favourite form of recreation, and at the tournaments I enter tend to get fairly intense, with even several matches in a single day. Needless to say, that only happens if you keep winning and climbing the draw.

How did you become a tournament organiser?

I've always had a flair for organising things, so after playing a few tournaments, I figured I might try running them myself, and maybe even do a better job of it. I wanted to test that. Five years ago, with lads from Warsaw and Katowice, we started Gaybledon. We began with occasional tournaments in Katowice or Warsaw, and more regular ones held annually in Poznań. After a while, we set out on turning them into proper competitions and that's how the Gaybledon Championship Tour came to be, with singles and doubles across five cities. Then came the international GLTA Summer Vibes in Poznań, and next year in Wrocław, we'll be launching Poland's first ever GLTA Winter Vibes.

What is GLTA?

Gay and Lesbian Tennis Alliance, a global organisation whose board I've had the pleasure of joining this year. I'm not only the only Pole, but also the only European serving on it.

Who came up with that brilliant name "Gaybledon"?

Catchy, isn't it? It cropped up about five years ago, just before covid, in chats with a few engaged people. And not everyone loved it at first - some thought it was too in-your-face, and likely to scare off sponsors and venues. I defended it, and - in hindsight - I think I was right. Gaybledon is mainly designed for Polish players. It fills our autumn-winter calendar when far fewer other tournaments are held.

Gaybledon makes it sound like it's for gay men only.

From the outset, we were trying to create a safe space not just for gay men playing tennis, but also for lesbians, who have also faced plenty of discrimination in sports venues. Not everyone lives in friendly Poznań, and not everyone is as lucky as me - I've never had any grief here for being gay. And frankly, I couldn't care less if someone looks at me funny. But the experience of many other people has been very different.

And how is Gaybledon faring today?

Gay men are in still the majority, but no one is barred. We don't check people's orientations - if you want to join in, you're welcome. And it's already happening. Women have joined too, which we deliberately encouraged when applying to host GLTA tournaments. An initial hurdle was that there weren't enough women to fill brackets at all levels, so we held mixed, all-gender draws. But their numbers grew, and that opened my eyes to things I hadn't considered, like the pay gap that discriminated women. Since they earn less, they find it harder to pay tournaments fees - fifteen hundred zlotys for a weekend event turned out to be too steep for many women, but not for men. We had to respond and ensure fairer conditions.

So is everyone playing now?

They are. At this year's Summer Vibes, we managed all five men's singles and five double brackets, plus four out of five women's singles and doubles brackets.

What exactly are those brackets?

GLTA has five brackets, or skill levels: Open (for people nearing professional performance), followed by A, B, C and D. A is advanced, B is intermediate, and so on. Singles and doubles have separate draws. Over ninety tournaments are held per year in locations across the globe ranging from Tokyo to Australia to the Americas to Europe. All results go into the rankings, leading to the World Championships. Last year they were held in Puerto Rico, and Polish women brought home medals.

Were those championships the reason you played a match with Poznań's deputy mayor, Jędrzej Solarski?

That's right. We were raising funds for our female players, and the deputy mayor put himself up for auction. We played, he wiped the floor with me, 0:6, 0:6, but I made him sweat for it, so he didn't win easily.

How many people in Poland are involved in the competitions?

There are roughly a hundred and fifty committed players, both male and female.

From across the country?

Yes, though a few locations, Warsaw, Silesia, and the Tricity, are the main hubs.

Do you also get to play tennis in Poznań's Orion Sports Club, which caters to LGBT+ people?

Certainly, I play there Friday evenings, and I'd encourage anyone, beginner or advanced, to join the Orion tennis section.

A few weeks ago, I ran into you at Lokum Stonewall accompanying a bunch of foreigners. Who were they? What was happening?

They were in town for one of those international Summer Vibes GLTA tournaments I told you about - our third edition. Over 130 people from nearly thirty countries participated, and Lokum - where else? - was chosen to hold our welcome party.

Where did you play the matches?

Poznań's only venue with that kind of capacity is Park Tenisowy Olimpia. It has ten courts in summer but since we needed fourteen, we rented additional courts at the University of Life Sciences. We played from eight in the morning until late at night.

You said earlier that when the name Gaybledon was first coined, some feared organisational problems. Has GLTA Summer Vibes had any issues in Poznań?

None whatsoever. Olimpia has been fantastic from the get-go. It is beautifully maintained and we pay like everyone else. It is exactly how things should work in the civilised world.

What do international visitors make of Poznań?

At the first Summer Vibes, they were floored - they'd expected a grim, homophobic backwater. But they quickly realised Poznań is beautiful, clean, safe, and also compact, with an airport only fifteen minutes from the centre. And crucially, very rainbow-friendly.

Unsurprisingly, we first met not at a tennis match, since I am not into sports, but through a flat rental, since you're an agent by profession.

Yes, a real estate agent, to be clear. It's the only job I can do, to be honest. And I'm told I'm pretty good at it.

I can certainly vouch for that!

Thank you. You could say that my stint in this business has come of age - it's been eighteen years now. What's kept me in it so long and makes me truly enjoy it is the unpredictability. I never know what to expect or who each day will bring. Buying a flat is a once-in-a-lifetime decision for many people, especially with a mortgage, so emotions run high. The challenges and surprises are my driving force. But it's not for everyone. The fact that so few stick it out this long says it all.

Where do people most want to live in Poznań these days?

It varies widely. Some want the buzz of the social scene in trendy Jeżyce, others prefer a quiet estate on the outskirts. Some love old tenements, others prefer modern flats. And the city has changed. When I started in real estate, Jeżyce was where you went if you fancied a punch in the face. Now it's where you go for hummus.

What's the key skill of a good estate agent? Just the gift of the gab?

Being a good listener. You're not looking for a flat for yourself, but for someone else. Knowing property law helps - the rules change frequently. Knowing the city's geography is equally helpful. I'd say I know Poznań like an old cabbie.

And where do you live?

Winogrady, right by the Citadel - and I love it.

Have you always been this open about being gay?

Since I came of age, yes. In my hometown, Strzelce Krajeńskie in Lubuskie, the atmosphere wasn't supportive. My gay life began in Poznań, when I moved here at eighteen to study. I chose logistics and international transport at the University of Economics. After five years, a master's degree in hand, I lasted literally two days in my first job in the profession. A friend suggested real estate, and he was spot on. I did postgraduate studies in real estate trading, as required for what was then a regulated profession, then studied property management and valuation. That was the professional way to do it. Today, it's a free for all and anyone can call themselves an estate agent. Luckily for me, that's not the kind of competition I need to worry about.

Let's circle back to openness.

I came out after my first year at university, to my family as well. I've always been incredibly lucky with the people I met, both personally and professionally. I've never experienced pushback or hostility for being gay, not from my sisters, and cousins, my close or extended family. So yes, I'd call myself a happy gay. A very happy one, in fact.

What is your recollection of the "good change" [1] era?

That time was hard, yet oddly exhilarating, as it coincided with my coming of age. I felt as though I was constantly being drawn into political debates. During that period, I moved from Toruń to Poznań, enrolled in an art history programme at university, and began living life on my own terms. That mattered because I come from a very conservative family. In Poznań, I finally felt free, met brilliant people, engaged with the drag scene with friends, and started doing exactly what I wanted.

So was it a mix of highs and lows?

It was, because I was constantly compelled to protest for various causes, standing up for our rights, whether women's rights or LGBT+ rights.

Why did you choose to study in Poznań? You could have stayed in Toruń and studied art history there.

Toruń specialises in early art, with a particularly strong archaeology department at Toruń's Nicolaus Copernicus University. Since I was more drawn to contemporary art, especially Central and Eastern European, Poznań appeared to be the better choice. And also, my sister was already studying there, so I was familiar with the city, and Poznań simply struck me as a fantastic place. I moved there in 2016.

The art history department in Poznań is known for its stark divide between progressives and hard-line conservatives. Did you sense that tension?

By the time I finished my studies, I certainly did. That was actually one of the reasons I decided not to pursue a master's degree there. After completing my bachelor's, I switched to curatorial studies at the Poznań University of Fine Arts, where I graduated with distinction. While there, I immersed myself in queer art. I wrote my master's thesis on the subject, supervised by Marta Smolińska, although I had started the research earlier at the Institute of Art History at Adam Mickiewicz University under Paweł Leszkowicz. My focus was on the Warsaw festival Pomada. I felt the need to be closer to artists, to work with them, and to express myself as a curator.

What drew you specifically to queer art?

At first, I was also fascinated by medieval art, but ultimately contemporary art, and especially its feminist and queer aspects, won me over. Art history majors are actually required to write two bachelor's theses and then choose which one to defend. I wrote one on the negative portrayal of Jews in Polish Gothic art, and the other on the overlooked contributions of women to the works of artists from Bosnia and Herzegovina. Unsurprisingly, I chose to defend the latter, under the supervision of Magdalena Radomska. From that point forward, I steadily moved in the queer direction. Even before I started my studies at the University of Fine Arts, Gosia Mycek invited me to curate my first queer exhibition. It was staged as part of a benefit for a friend's gender transition and titled Against the Family. The exhibition explored the notion that we, queer people, want, can, and often have to build new chosen families. That was the time queer truly exploded into my life.

What does queer art mean to you?

As you know, defining queer art can be tricky. It's more appropriate to speak of definitions in the plural. Personally, I subscribe to the understanding put forward by Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick in her book Epistemology of the Closet,  which, unfortunately, has never been translated into Polish. She describes queer as any breach of heteronormativity. That is how I prefer to see it: a breach that does not necessarily have to be affirming, because queer is not always fun and flamboyant - something many tend to forget.

Which brings me to the Arsenał Municipal Gallery, where in June, during Pride Month, you co-curated the exhibitionLGBT+ Zones: Queer Art in the Time of the "Good Change".

I did that indeed, with Tomek Pawłowski-Jarmołajew. We knew each other beforehand but had never collaborated. Once we got started, it quickly became clear we both had our sights set on creating a queer exhibition. At first, we dreamt of a large-scale cross-cutting show, but we needed a reality check to make sure our project would fit the space available at the Arsenał.

Poland's largest queer exhibition to date remains Ars Homo Erotica, held in 2010 at the National Museum of Warsaw during Piotr Piotrowski's brief directorship, and curated by Paweł Leszkowicz. Both were academics at the Institute of Art History at Adam Mickiewicz University.

That exhibition is a benchmark. Queer displays in Poland are generally seen as those either preceding or following Ars Homo Erotica. Sadly, I was too young to attend it myself.

I did go - I even interviewed Paweł about it. That show, very much a gay exhibition at its core, was clearly a product of its time. Today, however, we speak of queer exhibitions, which is one of the developments since then. The other is the presence of many queer artists from Belarus and Ukraine now living in Poland, which had significantly altered the landscape.

Yes, and that's something Tomek and I found especially compelling when organising the show. It's no coincidence we offered guided tours in Ukrainian and Belarusian. And you're absolutely right: meeting artists from the East really shifts perspectives, because even during the "good change" years, LGBT+ people in Poland were better off than queer people in Belarus. It is worth noting that Belarusian art in Poland is thriving wonderfully, also beyond the queer scene.

Did working on this exhibition teach you anything?

Definitely - I learnt much more about queer performance, especially thanks to Andrzej Pakuła, who curated our performance programme at the Pavilion. And you know what surprised me? Not a single protest against the exhibition.

That's what Mikita Ilynchyk told me after the premiere of hisPygmalionat the Polski Theatre. I told him then what I'll say to you now: Poznań is long past the point of "offence to religious sentiments", as it is often referred to. While Poland grows increasingly right-wing, Poznań appears to be moving in the opposite direction.

Exactly. I was used to the Toruń climate, where anything could be protested - from Behemoth concerts to Marina Abramović exhibitions.

Do you identify with any of the letters in our rainbow acronym?

Mostly with the letter L, although I have always had relationships with men, too. The thing about those letters is that they can feel more limiting than defining. If I had to label myself, I'd say I'm bisexual and homoerotic, because I've never been able to form a romantic relationship with a man. I just don't have the heart for it. With my girlfriend, whom I recently got engaged to, we live openly as lesbians. Our friends always say they're going to see "the lesbians" or "lezzies".

Was it the same in Toruń?

As I mentioned, I come from a highly conservative, religiously devout, right-wing family. Yet both my sister and are lesbians. So it is no surprise at all that our relationships with our parents are complicated. I can't bring my girlfriend home, and since that's not possible, I simply don't visit. To make matters more difficult, my girlfriend is trans, which is more than my parents can accept. My sister, from time to time, could invite her girlfriend to family gatherings under the pretence of being a "friend", but I can't, because the way my parents see it, that looks far too queer.

When did your queer life begin?

Back in high school, when I identified as bisexual. I had a lot of good friends but still encountered biphobia, the classic line being "fine, whatever, but you'd better make up your mind". It's funny that when a guy says he's bi, people assume he's gay, but when a woman says it, they assume she's straight. My theory is that people simply can't allow themselves to accept that a relationship with a woman can actually be fulfilling. There's still an ingrained belief that a man must be at the centre of attention.

Were there any queer clubs in Toruń at the time?

Just one. For a long time, there wasn't even a Pride parade. Toruń only started shifting in that direction after I'd already left. These days, there are queer spots there, such as Równik, and several queer-friendly venues. I still visit now and then, and I've even joined their Pride parade with my girlfriend. It was brilliant, though of course nowhere near the scale of what you see in Poznań.

Did you bump into any former school mates at the Toruń Pride parade?

No, I didn't, although there was a lesbian classmate in high school, and everyone got on with her perfectly, including me. It all seemed fine until the prom, when some of the girl's male classmates refused to share a table with a lesbian. This sparked a major scandal. It was rightly called out as straight-up discrimination. I remember my Polish teacher stepping in firmly, which was brilliant. The school I attended, III LO, was already among the most LGBT+ friendly places around at the time. Honestly, I quite enjoyed living in Toruń, though eventually it felt too small for me. I really appreciated the local Contemporary Art Centre, something Poznań still lacks. The first major queer exhibition I attended was one of Karol Radziszewski's works at that very Centre. Who knows, I may return to Toruń to retire.

Did you come out before leaving for Poznań?

I did, although at first my parents probably thought I was doing it just to spite them - we used to tease one another at home. And since I dated both boys and girls, they assumed I'd eventually settle with a man. To appears I let them down again, and as I've mentioned, that chilled our relationship. The same ritual plays out every year: my mum asks if I'm coming home for Christmas, I ask if I can bring Ida, mum says no, so I don't go. I find it very important to draw that line. If you don't accept who I am, there is no way we can share a meal. That would feel like pure hypocrisy. Why pretend?

You moved to Poznań just as its queer scene was beginning to flourish. Did you feel you were part of that change?

Even before moving, I was aware that Poznań was becoming increasingly more queer. That lesbian friend I mentioned had already filled me in on that. And through my sister, I quickly found myself immersed in a queer circle - we dived headfirst into drag, putting on all sorts of wild performances. I loved every minute of it, though I never had much of a stage presence, which perhaps explains why I ended up studying art history and theory rather than creating art myself. I've always been more drawn to engaging with other people's work.

For a long time, queer bars tended to be predominantly gay, as lesbian spots often closed down faster than they could open. Today, most queer places welcome everyone. Do you visit them?

I've only ever heard rumours about lesbian bars. As for queer hangouts, I do go there, although I'm not much of a clubber and definitely not into the drinking culture. I'd much rather attend exhibitions, performances, art events, or house parties. In fact, it was at one such party that I met Ida, my girlfriend. We'd already been following each other on Instagram, dropping subtle hints, liking each other's posts - then at that party, we just clicked and haven't looked back. We've been together three years now. Interestingly, Ida is binary, which in quite unusual in my closest drag circle, the House of Orzeczenie.

Do you live together?

Yes. At first, we lived in a drag commune, but these days it's just the two of us, in the Jeżyce district naturally. Ida is an English philologist who specialises in computational linguistics and is well versed in the various feminist cyber themes that are currently all the rage in the art world. I've already got her to help me with a couple of exhibitions. We love creating things together, and we're very happy. Life in Poznań suits us perfectly.

[1] Translator's note: "Good change" ("dobra zmiana in Polish") was a slogan and rallying cry of the Law and Justice party promising to bring fair, responsible, and citizen-focused governance. Critics claimed it was a power grab cloaked in shiny rhetoric that resulted in democratic backsliding.