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.

When and why did you leave Poznań?

Seventeen years ago, in 2007. The reason I left was that I really didn't enjoy living in Poznań, and all of my friends were leaving too, so I just followed suit. At the time, I had just finished a year of unsuccessful cultural studies at SWPS [University of Social Sciences and Humanities, now Collegium da Vinci], and before that, I had gone through three miserable years of high school.

What made it so miserable?

I went to a school called Paderek back then, which was the nickname for the 6th Secondary School. I'm not sure if they still call it that, but the place was extremely homophobic, and it stressed me out so much that I ended up developing vitiligo. I think pretty much everyone there, from the teachers to the students, was homophobic. I faced it every day, even though I wasn't out at the time. Looking back, it was definitely what we now recognise as bullying.

Was every day the same?

Yes, which is why I started skipping school more than more. My parents were constantly being called in to talk to the school.

Did you tell them why you didn't want to go?

No, I didn't. When they asked, I'd just say that I didn't like the school and that I was mostly into drama, which I did with some friends. For me, school was all about just getting through the final exams. Once I passed, not knowing what to do next, I enrolled in cultural studies, a major often chosen by people who have no idea what they want to do with their lives.

So, you didn't tell your parents. Did you talk to your friends about it?

I didn't say anything to them either. I was in complete denial. I still held onto the hope that I wasn't gay because everything I associated with being gay seemed negative to me.

And the friends from your drama group, none of them were queer?

Actually, they were, but we didn't use that word at the time. It was all unspoken. Nobody came out, and we were just busy with our theatre work. The group included people like Anu Czerwiński, who's now a filmmaker and performer, Andrzej Pakuła, the curator of the Poznań Pavilion, and Jędrek Burszta, a researcher and lecturer at the American Studies Centre at the University of Warsaw. We were all queer. Do you know what we called ourselves? The Different Theatre!

Different Theatre, Different Poznań. Interesting how a group of queer people could be involved in theatre, but no one ever talked about their identity.

I can't really explain it, but that's how it was. Nobody officially came out, but we all kind of knew. So, we made theatre, went to parties, smoked cigarettes, and kissed, all without ever acknowledging it openly.

Since you stayed in the closet throughout high school, I won't even ask about your time in middle school.

Actually, my middle school, number thirty-three in Łazarz District [now Secondary School Complex], was great. Probably because no one called me a faggot. It was in a fantastic building in a lovely location, right next to the Arena sports complex, where we had PE. The same building also housed the primary school I attended for two years after we moved to Poznań.

Where did you move from?

From Lubasz, a large, picturesque village about seventy kilometres north-west of Poznań. It's near a lake where I spent my every summer. My mother is from nearby Miłków. After finishing her teaching degree in Poznań, she was offered a choice of jobs, either in Wałcz or Lubasz. She chose Lubasz, brought my father along - he's an engineer from Poznań - and that's how I came to be.

Was your mum your teacher at school?

Thankfully, no. I went to the same school where she taught, but she never taught me herself.

Were you happy about your parents' decision to move to Poznań?

Not at all. I was eleven, and I loved living in Lubasz. But as I got older, I came to appreciate Poznań. If we hadn't moved, I'd probably have ended up as "the only gay in the village". And that would've been a nightmare.

So you became one of many gay people in the Łazarz district?

When I was in high school, my parents moved to Szczepanków for a bit, so I had the flat to myself. As you can imagine, my frequent theatre rehearsals and parties all took place in Łazarz. Obviously, everyone gravitates to the house where there are no parents around - it's every teenager's dream. A few years ago, I did an interview with Karolina Domagalska, a reporter and film director, for Wyborcza. She gave me this inquiring look and said, "Don't I know you? Wait, didn't I pick up my sister from a party at your flat on ul. Negolewskich?" And it was indeed me.

Oh, the Poznań crowd in Warsaw.

Janek Czapliński, who I used to sit next to at school, is now a playwright at the Dramatyczny Theatre. Jędrek Burszta, as I mentioned earlier, works at the American Studies Centre, and then there's Anu, probably the most interesting case. He looked me up after moving back to town from a few years studying at the Sorbonne. He'd left as Ania - he agreed to this deadnaming - and came back as Anu. Together, we started a studio in the space formerly known as Nowa Jerozolima. What's interesting is that most of us only came out after leaving Poznań.

Let's get back to Poznań.

My time in Poznań can be split into two phases: before and after Extravaganza, a play we put on at the Polski Theatre with Joanna Drozda and Jędrek Burszta. The "before" phase ended when I finished secondary school, and I couldn't leave Poznań fast enough.

Didn't you go to any gay spots back then?

I did, but - get this! - I went with a straight mate. He and his friends would go to Voliera because it was known for having the best parties. I was still in the closet and had no clue how to fit in, but that's when I made my first openly LGBT+ friends.

Where do you think this reluctance came from?

I think it was fear. I associated being gay with fear, so I avoided it and found a sense of safety in the theatre world.

What was your plan when you moved to Warsaw? Did you want to get into theatre?

I signed up for Iberian studies at the University of Warsaw and the Warsaw Film School, because, alongside theatre, film was my other big passion. Even in my amateur theatre days, I used to make video presentations. I loved it and saw it as something I could pursue as a career. I chose Iberian studies to get what they call a "solid education" as a backup plan. After moving to Warsaw, I shared a flat with a group of friends-unsurprisingly, most of them were from Poznań-and started exploring the city. I studied and worked at a cinema in Sadyba, which came with the perk of free access to all the films.

Were you openly gay by then?

A few trips to London and the film Before Night Falls by Julian Schnabel helped me come out. In the film, Javier Bardem plays a gay poet in Cuba during the revolution, and I must have watched it a dozen times. While I was still living in Czerniaków, I decided I wanted to do what Bardem's character did: cruise around Havana in a convertible, picking up Cubans. I wanted that to be my life, and it felt like the right time to break free. It was like a package deal for me. Not only did I come out of the closet, but I also left the church. Since then, my life changed dramatically. I wanted to come out everywhere: at school, on the bus, in shops, at the hairdresser's, on the street, you name it. Fear turned into pride almost overnight. I finally started living as an openly gay man, surprising quite a few people who had known me before.

Did your parents know at that point?

I told them about two years after I moved to Warsaw. I don't know why it took me so long. I guess I was still scared, haunted by my experience in Poznań. I must say, my parents were quite shocked when I told them I had a boyfriend and that I wanted them to meet him. I even had a joke ready: "Never mind if it's nature or nurture, either way, it's your fault!" They laughed, but of course, they needed time to process it. I think their biggest worry was that being gay would get me into all sorts of trouble, but I'd already been through the worst. I remember we stayed up late talking over a bottle of wine, and when we woke up the next morning, we found our dog had died. It felt symbolic, like I was burying my old life with him.

Who was the guy you wanted to introduce to your parents?

We met at the Dwa na trzy queer bar, tucked away in the back of a tenement building on ul. Bracka. I've seen you there, so I'm sure you'll remember it. He was a bartender, and I kept going back until I managed to pick him up. At the time, I was deeply involved in theatre, often working on queer-themed productions. That's when we staged Bańka mydlana  (Soap Bubble) at the Dramatyczny Theatre.

I've seen that play. At the time, the Dramatyczny Theatre was run by Paweł Miśkiewicz and Dorota Sajewska. Your show, directed by Andrzej Pakuła, was based on a script from an Israeli film by Eytan Fox about a group of queer friends in Tel Aviv, one of whom falls in love with a Palestinian.

The blend of queer themes and theatre was perfect for me, and I even got to operate the camera. Plus, it was my first paid theatre job. One of the people working at the theatre back then was Kaśka Szustow, and it was through her that I started collaborating with Pomada, a queer collective she co-founded with Karol Radziszewski and others. In a way, I became part of building a world in Warsaw that I had been too scared to even approach in Poznań, because I had been taught it was something bad.

Did everything change in 2015?

I came back to Poznań at the end of 2015 after Joanna Drozda invited me to work on the first Extravaganza at the Polski Theatre, a cabaret show about Poznań. Of course, we had no idea at the time that it would become such a hit, leading to more editions of Extravaganza as people in Poznań finally felt ready to laugh at themselves. We made jokes about anything and everything, feeling a fresh energy in the city, which was undergoing a noticeable social transformation. Curtains that had once been drawn tightly across the city, hiding people's lives, began to open. It became clear that you didn't need to conceal who you were or who you were with anymore - you could just be yourself without fear of repercussions. Poznań simply became a much nicer place to live.

How amazing that, after being traumatised by Poznań's homophobia, you returned years later to take part in its transformation into the queer capital of Poland.

As you know, Extravaganza was very queer from the outset, and that was intentional. It's just who we are, and that's how it turned out. When we put on the first edition, we really didn't know what sort of reaction to expect. But it turned out that there was a big audience in Poznań ready to laugh at themselves and their city. Even better, they were open to turning that laughter into self-reflection. And the humour wasn't about mocking others or being aggressive-none of that. We didn't want mockery, and we wouldn't have allowed it.

In the second Extravaganza, I was invited to perform as a guest, in drag. Joanna Drozda introduced me as Florence Foster Jenkins Jeżyc, and I sang my own ballad about Poznań, accompanied by Michał Łaszewicz. The final stanza was about an affair between Jacek Jaśkowiak and Robert Biedroń. They were both in the audience, both laughing their heads off.

Neither of them took it too seriously, and the bit about them became a staple of the show. I also remember that President Jaśkowiak saw Extravaganza About Power - which is the full title - several times, always bringing important guests along. It showed that the city was heading in a completely different direction. At several points in the show, we said Poznań was Poland's most open city, which, of course, was a cutting joke at the time. Today, eight years later, it really has become that kind of city, which is a massive change for someone who grew up there.

You visit Poznań often, and we've done plenty of queer and cultural projects together. Do you remember when you first realised the city had changed?

I remember it clearly. It was late June 2022, when the Stonewall Bookstore opened next to Lokum and Duże Lokum on ul. Półwiejska. The whole ul. Półwiejska and ul. Kwiatowa intersection looked unreal - everything was rainbow, and everyone was queer. And what's more, this was all happening just down the road from Paderek, on ul. Krakowska. I thought it was such an irony that the same Poznań, which had once driven me away with its homophobia, was now awash with rainbows.