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.

Are you good parents?

Paulina Suszyńska: I'm not sure.

Borys Fromberg: I'm not sure either, but we like to think we are.

Don't you evaluate how well you parent from time to time?

Borys: Our kids are the best judges of that. When they're happy, we feel we're doing a good job, but when they're not, our rating takes a hit.

Paulina: But their happiness isn't solely dependent on us. It's hard to assess ourselves. We definitely make mistakes - our parents did too - but we try not to repeat them.

Borys: And parenting today is completely different from just a few decades, and even one decade ago.

Do you have two children?

Paulina: Yes, we have Kuba, who's twenty-five and has already graduated from university.

Borys: Kuba has been running our restaurant with us since last year; he manages Bo. and seems to enjoy it.

Paulina: It's also an investment in himself because wherever he goes next - like he's considering moving to Spain with his girlfriend - he'll take the skills he's learned here with him. There are pubs and restaurants everywhere.

Borys: And then there's our seventeen-year-old daughter, Laura, who's in high school.

Paulina: Laura was born deaf, which we discovered a few weeks after she was born, and - as you can imagine - we were devastated. After we got back home from the tests, I was drenched in tears, wondering bitterly why this had happened to us. I imagined worst-case scenarios - our child being rejected, sent to special schools, facing immense hurdles. It's hard to admit now, but that's how it felt.

Borys: A deaf child seemed like a sentence to a difficult, unhappy life. It was a bleak outlook.

A picture that slowly started to brighten?

Paulina: Very slowly. A friend told Borys about a facility in Wrocław with a great therapist, Lidia Lempart, who successfully rehabilitated deaf children. We got in touch with her immediately and quickly got Laura fitted with hearing aids to stimulate her residual hearing and prevent her brain from forgetting how to listen, which was crucial if she were to get implants later on.

Borys: Laura and I practiced every day for a half an hour to an hour.

Paulina: The idea is that the more you work with a child's plastic and receptive brain, the better their chances of developing speech and vocabulary.

Borys: We did this after consulting other specialists. We travelled all over Poland - to Warsaw, Gdańsk, and Katowice - often getting conflicting diagnoses, which drove us crazy.

Paulina: On top of that, Laura had heightened muscle tightness, best treated with the Voyta method, which involves pressing specific points on the body to help the nervous system of a several-month-old baby bypass damaged neurons. This had to be done every three hours by a properly trained person under the supervision of a physiotherapist.

Borys: This intense rehabilitation across the board went on until she was six. Additionally, we had bilateral implants put in - one when Laura was one and the other at five, as they can't be implanted simultaneously. As a result, our daughter can hear, speak, sing, and play the guitar perfectly. You'd never guess she was born deaf.

Nice work, both of you!

Paulina: We're very happy it turned out well, but those early years were excruciating. We lived in constant uncertainty and stress as to whether our efforts would pay off.

Borys: And we were always on the road. We had to go to Wrocław twice a week for Laura's therapy sessions.

It must have taken a lot of anxiety, time, and money.

Borys: It did, but we also made many friends along the way, many of whom we're still close with today. We had a lot of fun with both kids and immense satisfaction seeing their progress.

How long have you been together?

Paulina: We're actually celebrating our nineteenth anniversary today. Laura came along two years after we got together because Kuba kept asking for a sibling.

Borys: And we decided to grant his wish.

What kind of education did you choose for Laura?

Borys: She started in a public school, but then we moved her to a private one to ensure she got more individual attention. It wasn't even that Laura needed it badly, but we wanted to tap into all her potential. It was in her best interest, as the school encourages kids to be as self-sufficient as possible.

Paulina: We also wanted to protect her from the kind of bullying that children who are different often face. It was a preventive measure.

Borys: Today, Laura is in the International Baccalaureate programme and is performing outstandingly.

Children's disabilities tend to put a major strain on their parents' relationship, often leading to breakups. Typically, the mother is left to take care of the child alone. How has this affected your relationship?

Borys: Can I take this?

Paulina: Sure, go ahead.

Borys: Whenever problems came up in our relationship, our experience with Laura gave us the confidence that nothing could beat us. And we still believe this today.

Paulina: I also think that fighting for Laura's hearing made it easier to accept her coming out. Neither deafness nor her being transgender are the end of the world, and we can still be a happy family.

Have you ever thought that Laura is doing too much to make your life "interesting"?

Paulina: Absolutely, at some point, I'd had enough. My mum and brother fell ill and died a few years apart. Plus, the pandemic was wreaking havoc on our business. Then Laura told us she was transgender. "When will it ever end?", I asked Borys.

And how did he respond?

Paulina: He said that it all comes to us because we can take it.

Borys: And we did!

Are you Poznań natives?

Paulina: Yes, I'm a proud native of Poznań.

Borys: A model resident, I would say. Paula has a knack for taking advantage of bargains. When, during our holiday in Florence, a baptistery offered free admission to people with disabilities and their guardians, Paula instantly jumped at the opportunity and explored it with Laura.

Paulina: And we didn't have to queue.

Borys: That's what I call Poznań-style money and time management!

Paulina: It's in my genes. My great-grandmother was very enterprising. She ran shops in Poznań and made quite a fortune. She owned the tenement house on ul. Kościuszki in which we are living and two others. After the war, everything was taken away from her and nationalised, and we didn't get it back until communism fell.

Borys: And although my great-grandfather rests in the Poznań Cemetery of Eminent Wielkopolska Residents, I was born in Piła after my parents moved there in the 1970s. My mum traces her family history to Italy and Switzerland, hence my surname, the only one in Poland, originally spelled with a silent "h", i.e. Frohmerg. My father dropped the "h", much to the annoyance of the rest of the family. I moved to Poznań to study after a year in Szczecin, following my mum's advice, who kept telling me I should return to Poznań. And she was right, this is where I belong.

You worked in the City Hall for a decade, rising to the position of deputy director of the City Promotion Office. But then you left to start a restaurant business with Paula, didn't you?

Borys: At that time, Paula and her partner ran Ptasie Radio on ul. Kościuszki and decided to open a second restaurant in the Castle. She put in a bid in a competition and was selected, which is how Świetlica came to be. We agreed that if she succeeded, I would quit my city job because, firstly, I didn't want to be accused of a conflict of interest, the Castle being a city institution, and secondly, running two restaurants was a challenge that required two people.

Paulina: Today, Ptasie Radio is in the hands of my partner because we decided to go our separate ways. We also bid farewell to Świetlica and started Bo., also on ul. Kościuszki, as you might expect, which we're running to this today.

Was Laura's coming out a big surprise?

Paulina: Honestly, no, because I already had my suspicions.

What suspicions?

Paulina: It began when I noticed that Laura was shaving her legs, which seemed strange to me because she was still presenting as a boy. I thought, maybe he's gay. Then I came across an article in Twój Styl about parents of transgender children, and I told Borys our son ticked all the boxes. At the time, Laura suddenly became sad, moody, and withdrawn. I said to her, "Listen, I can see that something is bothering you. No pressure, but I'm here for you if you want to talk about it".

What did you say?

Borys: I told Paula not to worry ahead of time. Whatever will be, will be.

Paulina: But that's not how I roll. I need to talk things through, think them over, and prepare myself. That way, if my intuition is right and the child comes to talk to me, I won't say anything foolish.

And?

Paulina: One day, Laura said she would like to talk to me. She told me she was transgender, didn't feel comfortable in her body, and was actually a girl.

How did you respond?

Paulina: I told her we loved her and would always support her, but to give herself time, not rush into anything, think it over, and try it out, because we all have male and female qualities, and they can manifest themselves in different ways.

So, mum knew then. And dad?

Borys: Dad found out from mum and always trusted his children. Since Laura is transgender, my job is to stand by her, that's all. Nothing new there.

This is a very encouraging reaction coming from a father, because statistically fathers are less likely to accept transgender children. Where do you think you got your openness?

Borys: Actually, Paula jokingly asked me if I was gay. I said, "Why are you asking?" She replied, "Because you're always hugging your pals".

Paulina: Borys has a strong feminine side. He has always been very open, spontaneous, and quick to cuddle everyone. So, when Laura came out, he took it in his stride, and I was the one worrying about everything.

Borys: Come on, I just like people!

Paulina: I like people too, but you can't say we came out of this whole situation unscathed. When Laura won a history competition at the end of primary school, which gave her guaranteed admission to a high school of her choice, we took her to Sicily as a reward. Back then, she was only out to us, so I told her to bring women's clothes if she wanted to, because no one knew her there. So, we shopped together and headed to Sicily.

Borys: This was a trying experience for us both because Laura didn't choose a flowing dress with a floral pattern and instead went for the shortest mini skirt, leather, and chains - a very specific style.

Paulina: And because she has a nice body and is quite shapely, she would turn heads walking down the street. I remember being overwhelmed, and both Laura and I cried from all the emotions that came with this big change.

Borys: I guess you have to go through the experience, that's the only way.

Paulina: Then, I remember someone in the street asked me, "Is this a boy or a girl?" After a moment's hesitation, I replied, "A girl". It's a whole process that you go through with your child, confronting the world together.

Have you had any unpleasant experiences in Poznań?

Paulina: Once, Laura went to pick up a pizza ordered under her name, and when she returned, she said that the people working in the pizzeria made fun of her, saying she wasn't Laura but a boy. I called the manager, explained what had happened, and asked her to talk to her workers because this shouldn't happen. She apologised and said she would address the issue with her staff.

Borys: You can't let such situations slide and must respond, if only to prevent them from happening again. It's not necessarily the manager's or owner's fault, and it's not about attacking a particular establishment. It's about raising awareness and educating people.

When did Laura start using her new name?

Paulina: As soon as she came out. I asked her how she would like to be addressed, and she told me to call her Laura.

Did you adjust quickly?

Paulina: It took us a while, but not too long. Laura herself said she would understand if we occasionally slipped up and used her old name by mistake because it's an adjustment.

Borys: Yes, it wasn't just about using her new name but also adjusting to all the feminine forms in the language.

How did your family members, friends, and acquaintances respond to this change?

Borys: Our friends and acquaintances embraced it in no time.

Paulina: Except for one person who took a bit longer. Laura came out to my brother Kuba on his birthday. Kuba and his girlfriend are very supportive; they are Laura's best friends. My family has no issues, even though my sister is a devout Catholic. Borys' mum was quick to accept it and was very supportive of Laura from the get-go. The first thing she said was that she would teach her how to sew. She now brings choice vintage clothes from her youth, and Laura proudly wears them.

Borys: The longest of these stories involves my father, who was the last to find out. Knowing that she would spend a week of her holiday with her grandfather, Laura was very nervous because she had already come out to everyone else and remembering that to her grandfather, she was still his grandson.

Paulina: It was really stressful for Laura, so Borys and I suggested she talk to her grandfather in our presence when he would come to pick her up. But she didn't want that; she went there and told him herself. After some initial turbulence, grandpa and his wife now fully support Laura.

Borys: Each successive coming out transformed her completely. Before, the anticipation weighed heavily on her, making her depressed and unhappy. Afterward, once she was accepted, she would become radiant and joyful. This shows just how much of a burden it is for LGBT+ people to disguise their identities out of fear of how others would react.

How was school after coming out?

Paulina: After winning that history competition I mentioned earlier, Laura was in a comfortable position of being free to choose any school. She decided to stay in her English-speaking Gaudium et Studium school, which is both primary and secondary. She finished primary school as a boy, and no one in her class other than her best friend and teacher knew she was transgender. When she started high school, we went to see the headmaster to discuss the matter. She said Laura would be the school's first trans student but assured us they would do everything in their power to make Laura feel at home and, of course, would use her preferred form of address.

Do you think it is significant that all this is happening in Poznań?

Paulina: Hugely. Sometimes I feel like we are living in a bubble here, with diversity and acceptance that goes beyond what is seen in other cities.

Borys: Poznań has transformed tremendously over the past decade or so and it's plain to see if you walk around the city. Once, when visiting the West, we marvelled at how colourful it was, and now our city is becoming exactly that. Look at how many rainbow flags hang in windows and on balconies, especially in the Jeżyce district, which was the first to come around. Much credit for this particular change goes to Jacek Jaśkowiak, who, as mayor, in a distinct Poznań style, supported the authorities and various other organisations like the Stonewall Group in fostering tolerance. I think the treatment of LGBT+ matters in Poznań is on a whole new level, never before seen in Poland.

Paulina: There's a good reason why main events on the National Day of Transgender Visibility are held in Poznań.

You are members of the Poznań group of parents of transgender children. How did you get there?

Paulina: Laura told me about Ewelina Negowetti, who runs the largest Facebook group for parents of trans people and who asked if I'd like to join. I did, and once there, I found out that Poznań also had a group for parents of trans kids, so I decided to meet them.

How many parents showed up?

Paulina: About ten.

All of them mothers?

Borys: There were fathers too.

Paulina: But they were in the minority.

When was it?

Paulina: Two years ago.

Were there children there as well?

Paulina: Yes, but at the next meeting. Naturally, they quickly broke off and formed their own group called the Transformers.

How old are the Transformers?

Paulina: Their ages range from about fourteen to twenty. Older members, who are in college, eventually move on with their lives.

Do you meet often?

Borys: Generally, once a month.

Do you go to parades?

Paulina: Absolutely. For the last one, we brought a banner that said "You will never walk alone" made by one of the mums.

Borys: We also join the Pol'and'Rock parade. I think every Pole should go there at least once in their lifetime. It's an amazing event that brings together a huge crowd of friendly, smiling people.

Does Laura take hormones?

Paulina: Yes, since late last August. She wanted to start sooner, but as parents, we wanted to take our time and make sure everything was properly diagnosed before rushing into any decisions. After completing the whole procedure, Laura started taking hormones, which caused her breasts to grow, so we got her a bra for St. Nick's.

Borys: She was over the moon and put it on right away.

So the transition is ongoing?

Paulina: Yes, partly with the resources from Poznań, and partly from Wrocław.

Is there anything the city can do to help parents of transgender children?

Paulina: Parents of transgender children need all kinds of help, from information to psychological assistance. The city once funded such a programme, but it was limited to a small number of participants and filled up quickly. It would be great to have such a programme in Poznań available year-round and without caps.

Borys: It's also important to support transgender children, or more broadly, children at high risk of suicide. We need a city programme to systematically support educators and school psychologists, including providing them with the necessary knowledge, as many lack it.

Paulina: Another issue is the cost of diagnosing gender dysphoria and of transitioning. Some parents simply can't afford endless visits to specialists. Some help with this would be greatly appreciated.

Borys: But the most crucial factor is the support and unconditional love of parents. No specialist, no matter how essential, can replace that. I hope this interview shows parents of transgender children that although they are confronted with a big challenge, they must face it and not see it as a misfortune. We're happy and proud of both our son and our daughter.