Gender
“I am fighting not for love, but against homophobia,” says Belarusian Pasha Dzhezhora, who has been organizing a column at Warszawa Pride for the second year. In 2025, she again gathered dozens of compatriots and friends with anarchist flags, rainbow Pahonias, and posters saying “Looking for a boyfriend” — even despite threats from Belarusian homophobes.
We talked with Pasha and Lady Serduszko about what the Pride looked like, why democracy without inclusivity is a fiction, and what it means to be an open queer person in a country that is among the five most homophobic in Europe.
There were many of us. And we were visible.
— Hello! Could you tell us about Warsaw Pride 2025? How did it go, and how many people gathered?
— There were a lot of people. In total, there were tens of thousands at Pride because the route was very large-scale. There were many groups, many cars, and overall it felt like an infinite number of people. At the same time, people supported us along the entire route, including from windows. Everything was super. Everything was very cool.
— How many people were in the Belarusian column?
More than fifty for sure. I think we were likely 70–80 people. Belarusian media, Belsat, and Euroradio came to support us. Our anarchists also joined. I was very happy to see such a huge number of people.
Our Ukrainian friends supported us too. Everything was just super. Many people joined us during the march — even those who didn’t know about the Belarusian column. There were truly many of us.
— Do you remember the moment when the idea to create a Belarusian column at pride first appeared? What prompted you?
— Regarding the very first time, I don’t remember exactly when it was. But since childhood, I dreamed of a Pride happening in Belarus. When I first attended Pride in Prague, Czech Republic, I didn’t even know how they were organized. I went there because two of my former friends came with white-red-white (WRW) flags. I saw it in their stories and joined them. Even then, I thought it would be cool one day to have an entire Belarusian group so everyone could have fun, talk, and walk together. It seems to me the desire to create a separate Belarusian group was born specifically in Prague.
— How did you imagine this column when you were first planning it? How did you want other Belarusians to perceive it?
— My main goal was to create a column where there would be many Belarusians, where everyone would be comfortable, and where everyone would find their place and be able to express their own message. Of course, I have many ideas — about queer “Dazhynki” (harvest festivals), and a column with images of dictators on sticks painted as drag queens. But the main thing for me is a space where everyone can speak out. Regarding perception by other Belarusians — I didn’t aim to cause a specific reaction. It’s important to me that people react naturally: according to their own views, thoughts, and ideas. The main thing is to draw attention to the problem, to be bright, provocative, beautiful, and extraordinary. And, at least, no worse than other participants.
— How did other Pride participants look at you? Was there feedback from Polish queer groups or other emigrant communities?
Yes, there was support. But I was most touched by the reaction of ordinary people. For example, the rainbow Pahonia — so many people paid attention to it and reacted positively! My journalist friend came with a “Looking for a boyfriend” sign — very simple, direct, and cool.
And another moment was when two kids were given small rainbow Pahonias, and they walked with them on their backs. It was very sweet to realize that Belarusians are raising their children with truly democratic values.
When democracy has fists
— You mentioned that you received threats before Pride. What kind of threats were they, and how did you feel?
These were threats to my friends and acquaintances from several individuals.
They spoke of physical violence and digital harassment, including in chats. To be honest, I didn’t feel fear — only the realization that we still live in a world where even those who supposedly fight for democracy often do not understand its essence. I simply took all necessary security measures and felt motivated: to do everything even more powerfully.
— Why, in your opinion, do such threats come from Belarusians who have themselves experienced repression and emigration?
— Unfortunately, many Belarusians who lived under an authoritarian regime equate power with permissiveness. They think that democracy is when you can force others to obey you if you have the “correct” views. But that’s not true. If you think you can threaten or even kill because you dislike someone — you are not for democracy. You are for violence.
Democracy is about the peaceful coexistence of people with different views. And no one — neither an official nor a citizen — has the right to threaten someone with death.
Belarusian activist and non-binary person Pasha Dzhezhora, organizer of the Belarusian column at the Pride in Warsaw, received threats of violence from right-wing Belarusians, including Ukraine war veteran Raman Yaromenka (“Senat”), who publicly declared his intent to “find and cut out” participants with WRW flags and the rainbow Pahonia. Threats came via the “Belarusianski” Telegram chat and Instagram; similar incidents occurred earlier in Vienna, Vilnius, and Wroclaw. The right-wingers demand “moral rights” to national symbolism exclusively for those who fought at the front and openly call the LGBTQ+ community a “neo-communist party.” Pasha views this not just as homophobia, but as a step toward a Russian scenario, and responds with community and openness.
— Were there any threats or conflicts during Pride itself?
— Actually, there were very few. I personally didn’t encounter anything bad. I was told that one guy on a bicycle said something unpleasant to a journalist, but it ended quickly; even the police didn’t have time to approach. Someone else had unpleasant conversations with group members, but that also ended quickly. One pair of girls had a bottle with some liquid thrown at their backs by a person on a bicycle who shouted in Russian: “That’s what you deserve.” But whether he was connected to our column is unknown. Overall, everything went quite well. There was only one “interview” with a transgender Ukrainian woman — as it turned out, by a provocateur. Her friend held her back, and she just took a photo of him.
— What helped you not to stop and still organize this column?
— It’s exactly the threats that motivate me. If there is resistance, it means everything is being done correctly. I don’t want to engage in activism in comfort. I fight against homophobia precisely because it exists. I am not the person who fights “for love”; I fight against. And it was the threats that became the catalyst for creating this column.
If it weren’t for the threats — most likely, it wouldn’t have happened this year.
— Is being an open queer person in emigration a liberation or a new vulnerability, considering Poland is among the five most homophobic EU countries?
— I am comfortable. For me, living in a Slavic European country is a value. I’m glad I live in Poland, a country that was part of Belarusian history and is politically close to me. I don’t need a “comfortable West.” I lived in the Czech Republic, was in Germany and France — I saw how LGBTQ+ people live there. But I need this pressure, this feeling that I need to fight. It motivates me.
— Do you cooperate with international LGBTQ+ organizations? Do they know about the threats from right-wing Belarusians?
— I used to work a lot with international organizations, including the UN, on the topic of LGBTQ+ refugees. Everyone knows that the situation in Poland is difficult, including for Belarusians. Regarding this Pride — I haven’t had talks with international partners yet, but I think my team will handle this. Right now, my main work is cinema, theater, and art. But I am sure there will be a reaction and that those who suffered will receive support.
“This is our flag too”: a participant of Warszawa Pride on threats and the right to visibility
Another participant of the Belarusian column at Warszawa Pride, Lady Serduszko, who also received threats from Belarusian nationalists, shares her experience and position:
— How did you react when you learned about the threats against participants with white-red-white flags and rainbows? How did you feel?
— I was sent screenshots of a post where my personal information started to be distributed in some nationalist chat. I entered this chat and tried to start a dialogue. But with every message, the conversation became more aggressive.
Insults and threats began. What angered me most was not even that they were writing nasty things, but that they started posting the personal data of people who didn’t even participate in the march — neither this year nor earlier.
This was already real bullying.
— Why is it important for you to go to pride specifically with Belarusian national symbols?
— Because it is about identity. We, Belarusians, are a separate nation. And LGBTQ+ people are in every country — it’s just that in some places they cannot be visible. We go out for ourselves, but also for those who can’t. To show: we exist, we are here, and we want the same rights. We demand support, including as Belarusians. We want our visibility to become the norm, not the exception.
— In your view, how does homophobia in the emigrant environment affect the unity of Belarusians abroad?
— It affects it very strongly.
It is especially painful that the threats come from those I previously respected — for example, from people who fought for Ukraine in the Kalinouski Regiment. Some of them personally threatened me — with death, and saying they would find me and deal with me.
One of them even said openly: in this world, it’s not democracy that matters, but force — physical or security structures. And this is scary. Because it turns out they have already forgotten what they were fighting against. And now they take an example from Polish radicals and the new Polish president — and themselves become similar to those we fled from.
— What would you say to those who think LGBTQ+ people have no right to national symbols?
— We carried this flag too. In 2020, it was with us at the protests — in every district, in every city. We stood under it at rallies; we were beaten and imprisoned under it. Why can it be at Christian marches or other events, but not at Pride? We are Belarusians too. If someone thinks that only participation in a war gives the right to the flag — that’s unfair. We fight for freedom in our own way. We have earned this right just as much.
Pasha Dzhezhora. I am no longer an activist. I am a queer artist.
— How did you take care of yourself during activism to avoid burnout and feel safe?
— To tell the truth, I never took care of myself. For me, the main thing is to be true to my idea. I always did everything with my own funds or donations. I didn’t depend on others’ conditions unless they concerned safety.
And I was always helped by my “dark” inspiration — righteous anger. I went toward fear, conquered it — and it gave me strength.
But, of course, this led to burnout. That’s why I’m in creative work now: cinema, theater, and art.
— What do you want to talk about now? And will there be Belarusian columns in the future?
— Now I want to say that I’m no longer just an activist. I’m not an activist anymore. My task is to create queer cinema and theater and engage in modern Belarusian art. There will be columns — definitely. Other Belarusian activists will create them. Maybe me too. But I would like to do something more artistic, conceptual, bright, and even more radical. And it’s important to me that the struggle for LGBTQ+ rights is perceived broadly: as a struggle for friends, for children, for love, for democracy, for the right to be yourself — even if you love no one.
Would you like me to look for more information about current queer art projects by Belarusian artists or international support resources for LGBTQ+ activists in Poland?