"I have considered leaving Slovakia several times," says Marek Hudec, a queer activist who is co-creating an "island of freedom" in Bratislava
What is your biggest concern in the everyday life of queer people in Slovakia right now?
There are many concerns. The most obvious is the attempt by the Minister of Culture(Martina Šimkovičová, ed.) to censor queer culture. There is currently a constitutional proposal in parliament to restrict adoptions and at the same time a declaration that we have only two genders in Slovakia - following the Hungarian model. It should be remembered that transition is still very difficult in our country, legally conditional on sterilisation, which is truly inhumane and humiliating. Our southern neighbours have recently banned pride marches, and our government has adopted a law on NGOs which has made it very difficult for them to operate. I regret to say that the bad news has no end, we are going back to the deep past. On the other hand, I am comforted by the thought that I can no longer imagine many political constellations that could make the situation worse. The only one is the possibility of a Fico government with the fascist Republic party - but support for the current opposition is growing and could mean a better tomorrow.
What do you think would have to change for politicians to acknowledge that their homophobic rhetoric leaves a "mess" in the public space - and take responsibility for it?
I find it strange, for example, that the Prime Minister himself survived an assassination attempt but passed the second anniversary of the murders of Juraj and Matúš in silence. Why is he talking about hatred against his own person while he himself continues to spread it against a vulnerable group? The truth is that part of the political spectrum is deliberately exploiting this issue. They find that they can use it to engage a section of society that is not educated enough about the lives of LGBTI+ people, or sees us as some incomprehensible threat. On the part of the ruling political parties, this is just part of their cynical efforts to stay in power. Prime Minister SMER's party has never felt any remorse towards minorities, in the first government they fostered hatred towards Hungarians, then towards refugees and refugees, it is a 'proven' strategy for them to succeed. That is, if they consider success to be driving many citizens out of the country in addition to increasing preferences.
Have you yourself ever considered relocating to a more LGBT-friendly country?
I have considered it repeatedly. A few years ago, I was in a long-distance relationship with a partner who lived in Sweden, and I wanted to move to Sweden to be with him. But it was challenging to find a job, partly because of the set-up for migration - for example, you could only get a job if you had what was called an identification number, something like an ID card. After a while I had to go back because of the existential situation. I think this experience also discouraged me from trying to leave Slovakia again for a while, and I also felt that I had a network of relationships and more opportunities in Slovakia. My current partner is also studying here. But after the new government came in, I see how life is getting worse for many people, not just queer people, and during my trips abroad I feel like I would be relieved to move away. So it's an open question for me.
Your book reportage Trigger, among other things, gives testimony to how gay people in Slovakia lived in a time when homosexuality was considered deviant or even "treated" with conversion therapy. Do you understand what queer people drew strength from back then to face such ostracism? To not give up on living authentically, on the hope of relationship - and on social change?
I think the strongest thing for them was a similar longing that we as queer people have today, which is the longing for the freedom to be themselves, to be accepted among their loved ones. Even today, coming out can mean risking danger for many, or fearing career awkwardness, because even queer people have trouble breaking through the "glass ceiling" in many environments. And just like today, in the past they found groups and environments where they could vent, even if on the margins or in hiding. In the days of socialism at apartment parties, in the 90s at the first discos and in queer venues.
Are you inspired by the attitude or story of any of these particular survivors?
There are many such inspiring stories. From the past, the activists Hana Fábry and Romana Schlesinger are big heroes for me. One founded the first lesbian movement, the other the first PRIDE, and although both burned out at some point in activism, they helped many people out of imaginary "closets, closets, closets." The story of Radka Trokšiarová, a survivor of the terrorist attack in Teplarna, is particularly inspiring - today she courageously talks about her experiences while working for the police. Or the story of Danka Šibíková, Juraj's mother, who spoke publicly about her son's life, even though it was outside her comfort zone. Roman Samotný, the owner of Teplarna, did not retreat after the terrorist attack, but fought at the forefront of the movement to improve the rights of queer people.
Readers will find all of these "stories of love and hate" in Trigger. I was intrigued by the love - did you want to show that after the unprecedented evil that happened in front of the Tepláreň café, a strong wave of belonging, support and solidarity also rose up?
The subtitle refers to the structure of the book, which includes a history of prejudice and growing hatred towards homosexuals in Slovakia, culminating in the murder of Juraj and Matúš. But it is also a history of the struggle for the freedom to love who one really wants to love and to be who one wants to be. In addition to a harrowing experience, the book manages to provide some light moments and love stories.
When you mention the "shock" that the reader experiences at times with your book - it is enough to read the eloquent question you ask on the cover of the book. That is, "When will they stop killing us?"
It's important to realise that the rights situation for LGBTI+ people in Central Europe is bleak, but it could be much worse. Indeed, in many parts of the world, queer people are struggling to survive. For the Slovak monthly magazine Kapitál, I interviewed queer refugees from North Sudan and Bangladesh who, in addition to sexualised violence, face death threats. HBO also made the documentary Welcome to Chechnya, where a queer man's family was ordered to kill him quietly.
How do you get in touch with queer refugees from Africa or Asia in particular - and get them to talk openly about such difficult issues?
During a covid, I met a Slovakian woman who works for a Swedish organisation in Malmö at an online community meeting. She offers a safe space for queer people seeking asylum and also helps them with the asylum process. Thanks to this organisation, I connected with several queer asylum seekers who were willing to share their stories. It's a topic I would like to pursue in the future. Their stories are also important because they have two levels: the difficult fate of fleeing their home and then the prejudice, rejection and struggle for dignity in the new country.
If we were to lighten the topic of LGBT living - what do you enjoy about queer culture and the queer community? What do you enjoy from the bottom of your heart?
I'm incredibly excited about where it has moved in the last fifteen years. When I was in my twenties, it was a revolution to watch the musical series Glee, which featured believable queer characters - every week I looked forward to downloading a new episode and watching Kurt and Blaine's evolving relationship. Since then, we've moved in leaps and bounds, and when I turn on Netflix, I have a hard time choosing in the flood of queer stories. I walk into a bookstore and find authentic titles not only from abroad, but also from Slovakia. Recently, for example, it was Jakub Spevak's essay Everything I didn't get to tell you.
In the world, "pride month" traditionally takes place in June, but in Bratislava and Prague, pride parades are yet to come. How do you personally experience the Rainbow Pride? Do those emotions change over the years?
It certainly does, also because I have been involved in the organisation of the Bratislava event for the last five years. I create the dramaturgy and I am the stage manager on site, which I enjoy incredibly. It's a topical programme where music alternates with cabaret and speeches. I make sure it runs smoothly, talk to the interesting people who come to perform and enjoy the atmosphere. I've organised other events, so I can compare - the people who attend PRIDE are extremely energetic, so for some speakers it can be intimidating to be on stage, but in the end it's always energising. Along with other events like the Pohoda festival, it will once again be an island of freedom in the midst of the marasmus our government is creating.
