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.

How long have you two been a couple?

Robert: Five years.

I thought it has been longer.

Michał: I also feel like it's been twenty years or so.

Was it love at first sight?

Robert: Definitely!

Michał: We had to sort out our previous lives pretty fast, and yeah, there was collateral damage, a few people definitely got hurt.

Robert: That's because we were both in relationships when we first met. And actually, it was more like love at first handshake rather than first sight. Has Michał given you one of his handshakes yet?

Did you like his firm grip?

Robert: Didn't you?

Very much so.How did you two meet?

Michał: I was opening a restaurant called Orzeł i Reszka in the Jeżyce district, and Robert turned up at the launch. He walked over to me with two empty glasses, I poured him some wine and asked if there was anything else I could do for him.

Robert: Michał likes to think I fell for him right there and then, but that's not quite how it went down. What really brought us together was his bank loan. I mean, Michał had a mortgage, and I'm a lawyer who specialises in Swiss franc loans. So he came to my law firm and that's how it all started.

Michał: Or you could mention how, after that, you started showing up at Orzeł i Reszka every morning for breakfast - even if it meant going out of your way.

Robert: As you can see, we've each got our own version of the story.

Michał: But we can agree that you started liking my every post.

Robert: Rubbish, you were the one liking all mine. Then the endless messaging started, and before we knew it, we were sneaking off to meet in secret.

Michał: Three months later, we were already living together.

Have you always lived in Poznań, or did you choose it as your home?

Robert: I was born in the Raszeja hospital. My first home was on ul. Paderewskiego, in a tenement that later became a squat, right by the Old Market Square. Later, my parents and I moved to the Piątkowo district and became your classic estate family. Michał's originally from Pleszew, but he's lived in Poznań for twenty years now. His mum and her side of the family are from here too.

Where did you move to when you became a couple?

Michał: Naramowice. Together with Antek, Robert's French bulldog, we made quite the trio. It was a brilliant time, though I did have to change quite a few habits. In my previous relationships, even the long-term ones, we kept a lot of things separate, including money. I think that's quite common in gay relationships. Robert, however, was baffled by that. To him, being together means sharing everything in life.

Robert: That's always been my view. So I set out to convince Michał there was nothing to worry about. I think it took us about a year to really gel, and now we share everything. Our mate - probably the best notary in Poznań - essentially gave us what one could describe as a wedding. We drew up a civil agreement that ties everything together, as far as Polish law allows.

Michał: Having sorted all that with the notary, we went out for lunch, and that's when I produced the rings.

Robert: You know, those little ones from Tymbark soda bottle caps.

The ones you're wearing now?

Robert: Are you crazy? These are Cartier!

Michał: It was the gesture that mattered - I thought it was romantic.

Robert: And it was! But we couldn't exactly wear those forever. We're Poznań gays, we've got standards.

How long had you been together when you sorted out the paperwork and rings?

Michał: About a year and a half, so it wasn't long.

Robert: It took us even less time, six months since we moved in, to find our dream house in the Grunwald district. And, the best bit, we managed to buy it two years later. We're in the middle of a major renovation now and I'm hoping we'll move in by the end of next year.

It all sounds very heteronormative!

Michał: I don't think it's about chasing some heteronormative ideal, even if it may look that way. For us, it's always been about just being together. In five years, we've barely been apart for...

Robert:...fourteen days.

Michał: Twelve. Either way, we're rarely apart and we love it that way. Sometimes it does mean seeing less of our friends or family. I miss Robert even if he's off to Warsaw for just one night. When he's not around, I feel lost, pottering around the house not quite knowing what to do with myself.

Yours is the kind of story many queer parents would dream of: a solid relationship, stability, shared goals.

Robert: We both come from families where our dads - while not thrilled - accepted us being gay, as long as it wasn't spoken about openly. My dad knew I was with a man. He spent so much time at our place that he might as well have lived there. When my mum passed away, he sort of stepped into her role. But it was never said out loud that this was my partner. Later I was with a guy who stayed closeted for years, hiding his sexuality from his loved ones, and it was utterly exhausting. I honestly couldn't go through that again. Keeping your sexuality hidden is no longer on the table.

Michał: If we feel like holding hands in town, we do it, and it's nobody else's business. And to be honest, I can't think of any bad reactions we've had in Poznań.

What do you usually call each other?

Robert: When I'm trying a shirt on in a shop and I'm not sure if I like it, I'll just say my husband's coming in a minute, and we'll decide together.

Michał: I honestly can't remember the last time I felt the need to hide who Robert is. Even when I'm chatting with builders, I'll just say, "Let me check with my husband".

Robert: Naturally, the builders assumed we were business partners doing up the house for an office.

Michał: Same story in restaurants or hotels. When we say we're a couple, people often think we're joking. It takes a bit of effort to convince them we're serious.

It's interesting how gender stereotypes come into play. You're both quite masculine - people might not "clock" you as gay at first glance. Even when you hold hands in the street, few people would have the guts to confront you.

Michał: I think you're right. And the way we dress adds to it. Every time Robert shows up at the building site wearing a suit, the tone of conversation changes. I've got a deep voice, which helps sort things out on the phone.

Robert: Definitely. I've lost count of how many times women have said to me, "I'd never have guessed you're gay." That just makes us more determined to walk around town holding hands, shaking things up and challenging people's assumptions. That's kind of a mission of ours.

Does Poznań differ from other cities in that respect?

Robert: It does, slightly. But it's not hugely different from other Polish cities we frequent, such as Warsaw, Wrocław, or the Tri-City. We don't really venture further east, you won't catch us in Lublin, for example.

Michał: Which is a shame, really. It's like the Vistula splits Poland into two very different worlds.

Robert: What matters is that we're on the right side of it. Poznań's a brilliant place to live, arguably Poland's most gay-friendly city. We joke that it's run by a gay mafia. We've realised we don't even need to fly a rainbow flag outside our next restaurant in Jeżyce -every venue here is gay friendly. And if it's not, we joke that the security guards are our gym mates. Once, one of them came up to me and said: "I don't usually like fags, but you lot are alright." Then he just walked away.

Michał: Another time at a gym, some jacked guy started chatting to us: "Oi, don't you two run a restaurant?" I said yeah. And he goes: "All veggie, isn't it? Hehe." And Robert instantly quipped, loud as can be: "Not all poofs are veggie!" The whole gym burst out laughing.

How long did it take you to reach that level of confidence?

Michał: The turning point for me was leaving Pleszew. I moved to Wrocław to study veterinary medicine, and that's when things really kicked off - I started living a gay life openly. I came  out to my mum and sister at sixteen.

Robert: Michał's mum had a bad accident in Germany and was hospitalised for ages. His dad was often there visiting, staying in a flat owned by a lesbian couple, one of them Polish and working with an organisation that helped Poles in need.

Michał: I came out to my dad much later, when I was already in a long-term relationship. One day, I just brought my partner home for Sunday lunch. "Nice to have all my kids under one roof," my dad said when we arrived. I think he actually loved Robert more than me.

Robert: Same with my dad - he loves you. Though at first there was a bit of drama, because my dad was somewhat confrontational, a classic alpha male. But when Michał shook his hand, everything shifted. I think what helped with our dads is that we can have a laugh about being gay and are not strict about political correctness. For us, being gay isn't taboo, nothing is off limits. Our dads are actually very much alike. When both our families went away together for Easter, and later on a mushroom picking trip, our dads hit it off straight away.

Michał: We even hosted Christmas Eve dinner once - all thirty-six family members, and it was a hit.

Robert: And sometimes I wonder if there's anything left to argue about now that a new generation has taken over. When a trans kid joined my brother's class, we gave him a fifteen-minute lecture on what to say, what not to say, and how to behave. He listened, all patronising, then asked if we were alright - because to him what we were saying was obvious. We really did come across as a pair of grumpy old men.

You mentioned you're always together and that part of that is down to your work - you own three restaurants: Roberto (in Jeżyce and Old Brewery Park) and Berlin Ecke (also in Jeżyce). Does being so inseparable 24/7 - both privately and professionally - ever get old?

Robert: It wasn't something we planned - it just evolved that way. We built our first place together, Światłocień Jeżyce, from the ground up, even though I'd never been in the restaurant business. I guess somewhere deep down, I'd always wanted to try it - and you always pursue your dreams. Then more venues cropped up, and now our lives and work are totally intertwined. It's not without its challenges - we're learning how to take proper breaks, which is harder than it sounds. We've bought a camper van that is parked by the sea to get away from it all with our dogs, though naturally, Michał is already thinking about opening a restaurant there.

Michał: And immediately Robert said he wouldn't be able to bear me running it solo, so he'd be popping down every fortnight to collect the takings.

How many places have you opened altogether?

Michał: Besides the ones we've mentioned, there was Tapasta and two Święta Krowa locations - one on ul. Kościelna and one on ul. Kwiatowa. All told, I've been in the restaurant business for over twelve years. I originally studied veterinary medicine, then switched to economics at the University of Economics in Poznań. But cooking came about because of family - the most important thing was always sitting down together at the table. It was my mum who taught me to cook, and she was brilliant at it. Then I took some cookery courses, and the rest is history. I dipped into my savings, went to Warsaw, stayed with a friend, and visited restaurants all day with a notebook. I brought all that knowledge back to Poznań and opened Święta Krowa. I was up to my ears in work, but happy to see it all working out brilliantly.

Five years in, is there still a spark between you?

Robert: Definitely, although you have to work at it a bit more, which is probably normal. What matters is that neither of us can picture being with anyone else.

Michał: How come?

Robert: Ah, I forgot to mention - we're thinking of having a child. It feels like the timing is just right. We know what's involved, and we know a gay couple in Poznań who've done it through surrogacy, so we're planning the same. It's just a matter of time. Do you know how Michał told me he wanted a kid?

Michał: We were visiting our architect, and I said that we needed to make one of the walls easy to knock down - just in case we needed a kid's room. Robert was on board right away. So now we're planning the house and a baby, to become one happy family with our dogs, because Antek has since been joined by two Dalmatians.

Whatever you do-whether professionally or as a community activist-you're always a caretaker. You look after people, things, memories. Would you say that's accurate?

Absolutely, my mom brought me up to be a bit of a rebel, but she also instilled in me a strong sense of civic duty. You don't just live for yourself; you look out for others too. I've been in the boy scouts, so that idea of service and responsibility for others really stuck. I guess you won't be surprised that in my relationships, especially with men, I have always been the older, more mature one-the one doing the looking after. That's never changed. So yes, I think "caretaker" fits.

Can you tell me about your first relationship?

That was Darek, four years younger than me, from a small town. We met in the early "90s through a personal ad in Filo magazine. We would only see each other on weekends, always in different locations because we were terrified someone might recognise us as a couple. There was just one weekend we spent together in my flat-only because my parents happened to be away on a pilgrimage.

Were you living in hiding for long?

Pretty much. Back in secondary school in the mid-'80s, a female friend and I both fancied the same boy. Totally surreal. I'd bought into that nonsense that gay people only existed in dodgy parks or public loos-which, yes, I checked out, and yep, it was true. But it didn't do me any good. I felt utterly alone. Sometimes, genuinely suicidal because what sort of life was that supposed to be, lurking in public toilets, living in fear, constantly feeling inferior. I remember circling newsstands just to sneak a gay magazine when no one was watching, then beating it. It was bleak-but somehow makes for good stories now.

So what happened with that female friend and falling for the same guy?

I told her about myself, heart pounding, convinced she'd flip or cut me off. But instead, she thanked me for trusting her, gave me flowers, and we're still friends. That's a perfect example of how powerful acceptance and support can be for a young person. That taught me just how life-changing acceptance can be, especially for someone young and lacking confidence. I dread to think what might've happened if she'd reacted differently. I honestly believe that even the smallest gesture of kindness can mean everything.

Back to your first boyfriend. Did you keep your relationship secret?

Not really. He used to send me letters daily-still does, actually. I've kept every single one. My mum noticed pretty quickly. Same with a framed photo I had of him in my room. When she asked, I just said he was a mate.

Do you think she believed you?

I doubt it, but she didn't press the issue. I was writing to loads of people back then-tons of letters coming in and out. I've got whole suitcases full now. Some were from personal ads in gay magazines. It's all grown into this massive personal queer archive. Eventually, my parents found out I was gay-but not from me. Someone told my mum they'd seen me going into Bistro Tropic on ul. Ściegiennego. It was run by a gay couple, who later opened the Amigo sauna on the Lech housing estate.

I haven't heard of Tropic. When did first you discover it? What was it like?

It was tiny, had a little dancefloor and a bar, nothing too posh. But it blew my mind. It was the first gay bar I'd ever been to. I found out about it through word of mouth in the early "90s and of course went there with friends. If I'd gone alone, it would probably be like my first time at Jambalaya, a club on the corner of ul. Prusa and ul. Sienkiewicza. I was so nervous going there, I bought a pack of cigarettes, and I don't even smoke, just to have something to do with my hands.

So you walked in and?

Behind the bar was Katechetka!

Who?

Oh, mate, Katechetka was legendary in the local gay scene. Everyone knew him. He probably got his nickname, which is Polish for "religion teacher", because that's what he actually did in his day job. But by night, he worked as a bartender in the gay bar and was known for his flamboyantly gay demeanour. Since I was already there, I ordered a coffee, cracked open those wretched cigarettes, and asked him for a light. He clocked me right away, smiled and said, "First time inhaling, is it?" I panicked, bolted upstairs-they had two levels-finished my coffee, and took off.

And your mum? What was her reaction when she found out?

She was hurt I hadn't told her. We didn't really talk about it until I moved out. Her main worry was about my health-code for HIV-but she made it clear I'd always have a place at home, no matter what. She just asked me not to hurt anyone, and to be responsible.

Was that the end of it?

She did ask about Darek from time to time. She wasn't thrilled when we broke up-she had this idea that I'd end up with one person for life. Things didn't work out with Darek, even though we had moved in together. We rented a flat and told the landlord we were cousins. I've still got the original lease, handwritten on carbon paper. A total relic.

And your dad? Was he in the picture?

He was there, just... silent. But that doesn't mean he didn't show he cared.

Did your parents ever visit your place?

They did, once, with my aunt. I later learned from mum that my aunt spotted a gay magazine under the coffee table and vowed never to return. I guess she was scandalised by the naked man on the cover, which still cracks me up.

How did you even know when those magazines were available?

Funn story. It actually ties into my work with Freedom and Peace, the pacifist and anti-communist group. I helped people write letters to avoid conscription. One time, the son of a friend of my aunt's-the same aunt who spotted the gay magazine-came to us for help. Around that time, I'd also started the Sieroca Gallery on ul. Sieroca, which doubled as a reading room, a hangout for the Imperatyw artist collective. I held exhibitions, concerts, and all sorts of other events. That's actually where I first came across Inaczej magazine-someone brought a copy and left it there. I freaked out and stashed it right away. Turns out the person who left it there was Janek, the son of my aunt's friend. It was his way of letting me know he knew I was gay-like him. It was through him that I met Sergiusz Wróblewski, who ran the legendary LGBT+ magazine Inaczej in Poznań.

Speaking of gay magazines, I've got to ask you about those personal ads you mentioned.

As hard as it is for young people today to imagine, you would buy magazines with "man seeking man" listings, often without photos. You'd post actual letters-with stamps!-and send printed photos because mobile phones weren't around until the late "90s. I placed and answered ads myself. I had a PO box near the West Railway Station and would pick up stacks of envelopes with all kinds of content. Your odds of meeting The One were one in a thousand. Honestly, the bars that kept popping up around town made it much easier. I actually met my current partner, with whom I've been for over two years now, on Grindr.

What do you think now when you look back at those park cruising days?

There was something oddly romantic about it, and you did meet loads of people. I myself met someone in a park who I ended up dating for years. But it could get sketchy. Once, the police raided the area and checked everyone's IDs, mine included. Those park visits came with a whole rulebook of gay ways-significant glances, coded signals, social circles. Does Marcinkowski Park still work that way? No clue but I doubt it. The internet pretty much killed that scene, which additionally included the Citadel and the riverside. And if you tally it all up, Poznań had a good number of gay bars. Did you know there used to be a gay spot called Adonis near the Rataje roundabout? Or Teleny on ul. Półwiejska, later replaced by Duże Lokum? Someone really ought to map all of this out for posterity. More recently, I have fond memories of Punto and the old Małe Lokum. Both had big street-facing windows, right in the city centre, which, for someone who remembers all those dingy underground bars with buzzers on the door, felt like a massive shift, like we were finally part of Europe.

But you're not exactly a party type, are you?

Not really. I'm more of a romantic and a homebody. But don't get me wrong, my partner and I go out to films, restaurants, and galleries. Relationships have always meant more to me than casual hookups. I find it difficult to meet someone and not get emotionally attached. My longest relationship lasted seven years. I'm on good terms with most of my exes, so I think on balance, I've done alright.

And the balance looks good for your work at Łazęga Poznańska in the Atelier on ul. Św. Marcin as well. Their place is abuzz with queer activity.

We do indeed have quite a lot of rainbow events, and what really matters to me is that these often come from others-it shows people feel welcome at Atelier. A case in point is Leonard Dutkiewicz from the Queer House of Culture who came asking for space for his crafts group. Since then, his group has been meeting regularly for embroidery sessions. Same with a bunch of queer teens who asked last year if they could crochet at Atelier. For them, I think it's more about having a space to just be and chat. All I do is stick around happily tinkering away and dusting things. I never had that sort of place growing up.

So, it looks like this change has made you happy?

Absolutely. But I'm also a bit of a worrier. I feel like Poznań's this rainbow bubble unaware that a political storm is brewing. I sometimes get this eerie sense we're like queer people in Berlin in the 1930s. The world seems to be turning brown again. It may be unthinkable today but things are already eroding in places like the US with the government attacking trans people, or Hungary, which recently banned Pride parades. I really hope I'm wrong. But even here, in our little queer paradise, we've got to remember not to get too comfortable. Have fun-yes. Celebrate-absolutely. But always keep your eyes open, always stay alert.