Jasiek Sobijanek. Foto: Szymon Stępniak
(THE ARTICLE WAS PUBLISHED IN DANISH ON SEPTEMBER 3RD 2021 IN FØLJETON. THIS IS A TRANSLATION. ORIGINAL ARTICLE HERE)
Jasiek is standing on a cliff by the Polish coastal town of Gdynia. Below him the waves lazily grace the shore and the place is bathed in evening light the color of a ripe mandarin. He’s wearing his father’s tuxedo jacket and a pair of sky high red stilettos. In a moment, he will marry his boyfriend, Dominik, but first he will perform a duet with the Polish version of the pop icon Beyoncé, Beata Kozidrak. “If she can’t make it, I’ll settle for Beyoncé, but Beata is the true queen, and her voice has the same range,“ he says matter-of-factly.
It’s a densely gray afternoon in the old Eastern bloc. 30-year-old Jasiek Sobjianek is standing in his one-bedroom apartment in the Praga-area of Warsaw, making up his kitsch dream wedding. He’s wearing the red stilettos and his boyfriend looks like someone who mentally left the conversation a long time ago. He doesn’t have to fear participating in the over-the-top ceremony any time soon, because in Poland gay weddings – both clercical and civilian – are illegal. The couple will have to wait on Jasieks fairy tale ending, but during the course of our conversation it becomes clear that this is the least of their problems.
Jasiek tells stories of how he at the age of 12 began drinking in order to access a more masculin side of himself that could shield him from the bullying and violence he was subject to at school. He talks of being verbally abused the only time he dared hold his partner’s hand in the street. And of being fundamentally worried about the future. He’s used to the homophobia, but the political climate reeks of recess:
“We’re headed for the Middle Ages. I hope it will change, but I don’t believe it. My parents have advised me to move away from Poland, because there’s nothing here for me anymore. They fear for my life.“
How do you feel? Are you afraid?
Of course. All the time. Even in the clothes I’m wearing now, I’m afraid of what reactions I might encounter in the street.“
“How would you dress, if you could choose freely?“ I ask, and this is how Jasiek ends up in his red shoes. He wouldn’t dare wear them outside his home.
The unsafe conditions for homosexuals are echoed in several places. The organization Lamda, which with its modest 30 year life time is the oldest LGBTQAI-organization in Poland, report that the creation of the so-called “LBGT-ideology free zones“ have sparked a more explicit societal homophobia. The zones have been implemented in several counties country-wide with the endorsement of the current Law and Justice-government (PiS). The rhetorical and legal shift has, according to Lambda, rubbed off on public opinion.
This observation is confirmed by GrowSpace Foundation’s project coordinator Dominic Kuc. The organization publishes an annual report on the well-being of LGBTQAI-persons in Poland, and a shift has been noticed: “What we observe is that more and more people indicate that they experience violence and verbal abuse. We primarily focus on young people and in 2020, 25 pct. [of the participants] said they had experienced verbal discrimination in the street. This was during the time when Andrzej Duda was campaigning for the presidency, and his rhetorics were extremely homophobic that year. Earlier on, even as late as 2018 and 2019, that number was lower.
This development has made Jasiek and his partner decide to leave Poland. They are currently saving up for the move. With modest Polish salaries they won’t get far elsewhere, he notes. In the meantime he hopes that the sanctions the EU has implemented in counties who have adopted the anti-LGBT-legislation will have effect: “Luckily, Polish people are wildly concerned with money, so if they stand to lose them that might motivate them,“ he says jokingly.
A clerical marriage with Law and Justice
For the time being, there isn’t much suggesting that money is in itself a sufficient motivational force. In late August, the regional government of the Southern Polish region Małopolska voted against getting rid of a two year-old resolution which criminalizes “public activities promoting the ideology of the LGBT-movement“. Dominik Kuc, however, places great significance on the sanctioning tools of the EU. Only this way can they get through to the region, which he believes is being held in a tight grip by Law and Justice due to their affiliation with the Catholic Church:
“The lines are drawn up harshly in Poland, because the Eastern part of the country is under a significantly larger influence of the Catholic Church than the Western parts. This is why the government has made the conservative, Catholic values a central part of their political program. A majority in Poland still support these values and don’t identify with EU-values such as human dignity and equal rights. The Church doesn’t promote those values and the smaller societies are built around the Church.“
This won’t change, Kuc believes, before the Poles realize where the funds are coming from:
“On one hand, the citizens see the investments [of the EU] and on the other hand, they are under the influence of the Catholic Church. We can’t connect the dots. We can’t connect the physical results of the EU-projects and -investments with the EU-values because of the clerical influence. This is in the interest of Law and Justice, who want the Church to stay in power, because this gives them access to a huge voter base. When they legislate against foreign media influence, it’s about shielding off the voters from different discourses and opinions.“
Kuc doesn’t believe the actual purpose of Law and Justice’s EU-critical rhetorics and controversial legislation to be a so-called “Polexit“. They have, however, been able to utilize the divide politically. Caught up in this political scheme are the marginalized groups of Poland.
Later in the evening, the weather changes and Warsaw changes form. Young people are drinking white wine on Plac Zbawiciela and the city no longer looks like something out of a communist dystopia. Cigarettes hang loosely from painted lips, and everybody knows one another and looks like they are at the center of the world. One guy has even had the audacity to wear pink eyeliner. Jasieks words seem far away, and one might even get the impression that he’s fighting windmills.
But the windmill exists. It’s located on the eighth floor of a mundane building in the other end of downtown Warsaw. Here, one finds Dr. Zych, as his employees refer to him as. He’s the dean of the city’s new private university, Collegium Intermarium, which has tight relations with both the government and the Catholic Church. In the next part of the series, I meet with Dr. Zych and talk to a queer burlesque-dancer who, unlike Jasiek, is going to stay in Poland and dance their way to towards a more just society. /Asta Kongsted