More than Glitter and Music
On what was supposed to be the day of Queers of the World Unite – Rainbow Walk for Poland, I found myself at a smaller gathering than planned. The protest, organised to show solidarity with Poland’s LGBTQ+ community, had been cancelled due to sudden police restrictions on public gatherings during the pandemic. The event was meant to bring hundreds of people together, sharing messages of hope and defiance. However, the risks were too great, with organizers facing potential fines and participants threatened with arrest under the newly enforced rules.
Despite the cancellation, I still met with Polka Dot, Alexis Saint Pete, and Polish RemoveHer in Polka’s North East London flat. In this more intimate setting, I had the opportunity to photograph them and hear some of their stories. What was supposed to be a larger-scale protest instead became a reflection on resilience, solidarity, and the various ways queer people find strength in each other—even when the systems meant to protect us threaten to silence our voices.
Each of them has taken a unique journey to this moment. For Polka Dot, drag became a lifeline. Growing up in rural Poland, they pursued musical theatre, but it was through drag that they discovered the freedom to create on their terms, seamlessly blending performance with a clear purpose. After leaving Poland in 2013, Polka found the space to embrace an authenticity that had once seemed unattainable.
All three of them are voices for the queer Polish diaspora, challenging oppression and celebrating culture with flair. Their project, SLAV 4U, is a bold declaration of pride and a defiant act of rebellion. Through Slavic pop culture and drag, they’ve carved out a safe space for Polish queer voices to thrive. It’s a celebration, but also a response to the often hostile climate back home, where political rhetoric and “LGBT-free zones” endanger lives and communities. As Alexis Saint Pete explains, SLAV 4U is more than just glitter and music; it’s a vision of inclusivity, a statement that Polish culture belongs to queer people as well.
For many Polish queer individuals, leaving home isn’t just a choice—it’s a necessity. Poland’s political landscape, where anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric often emboldens hate, creates little room for those who don’t conform to the rigid heteronormative model. How do you survive in a place where your existence is denied, your safety is at risk, and your love is perceived as a threat? Like so many others, Polka Dot, Alexis, and Polish RemoveHer left their country, hoping to find something Poland couldn’t provide: the freedom to live authentically and without fear.
On stage, SLAV 4U offers a glimpse of what Poland could be—a place of acceptance and joy. For a few hours, they create a Poland free of homophobia. “After one show, one attendee told me, ‘It feels like being back in Poland, but without the fear of being beaten up for holding my girlfriend’s hand,’” recalls Polka. But their activism isn’t confined to the stage. They also organised peaceful demonstrations outside the Polish embassy in London, showing support to the LGBTQ+ community protesting and being detained in Poland.
I can’t help but identify with their story. Like them, I moved to London in search of a life where I could embrace my queerness without constantly looking over my shoulder. Yet, even here, I find myself wondering about the life I might have had if I had been able to stay. What would it have been like to live openly, to build a future in the place I was born? Would I have found the same sense of belonging, or would I still be searching for it? What kind of person would I have become in a reality where staying felt possible?
But what if leaving had never been the only option? Why should anyone have to abandon their home to live authentically? I think about those who remain, navigating a reality where acceptance is conditional and survival often depends on silence. SLAV 4U challenges that narrative, standing as a testament to the idea that queer people are not outsiders to their culture—they are an integral part of it. Through their art, they reclaim space, refusing to let bigotry erase the contributions of queer people to Polish culture.
For Polka, this work is personal. They long for a Poland where they can live openly, without compromise. “I miss Poland,” they admit, “but through SLAV 4U, I can celebrate the culture I love while imagining a future where people like me can thrive.”
Photographing these three before their trip to Poland to perform in drag on national TV felt like documenting a powerful moment of courage and determination. Through their performances, they stand for the freedom to be yourself and for a future where identity is embraced.
