“The rights of LGBT+ people in the Czech Republic still aren’t truly equal,” says actor and presenter Jan Cina. According to him, Prague Pride isn’t just a colourful parade, but an important reminder that equality is still not a given
Jan Cina is one of those figures whom Czech audiences know from the theatre, film, television and musical projects. An actor, singer, dancer and presenter, and winner of the competitions *Tvoje tvář má známý hlas* and *StarDance*, he has long moved between the worlds of the big stage, intimate projects and personal themes that are inseparable from who he is. This year, he became one of the ambassadors for the Rainbow Ribbon campaign, which reminds people that supporting the LGBT+ community doesn’t have to start with grand gestures. Sometimes, a small symbol pinned to your clothes is enough. And the courage to show that respect, acceptance and equality cannot be taken for granted.
For Cina, however, the Rainbow Ribbon is not just a campaign item. In the advert, he says that for him it represents a celebration of life – and it is precisely this sentence that opens our interview. In it, he talks about pride, being different, his own coming out, why he believes the Czech Republic has not yet moved from tolerance to genuine respect, and why Prague Pride is still not just a colourful parade for one community. He also talks about the hope he finds in the younger generation, in the openness of the people around him, and in those moments when you simply stop, look up at the sky and take a deep breath.
Honza, perhaps you could start by telling me how you’re getting on at the moment, and what lies ahead for you…
I feel like it’s quite a challenge. Perhaps readers will recognise that feeling of being a bit behind in your own life. You want to achieve lots of things, get through lots of things, meet lots of people, manage your work commitments, and suddenly there’s too much and you find yourself stumbling a bit behind it all. Yet most of these things are ones I’ve voluntarily taken on and want to do.
A friend recently told me he’d heard an interview in which someone was saying that these days we feel as though there are far too many things to do, whereas it wasn’t like that before. But perhaps that isn’t entirely true. Perhaps what’s new is that we’ve decided we want to manage everything. We put pressure on ourselves, telling ourselves we have to manage it all. What helps me is to stop for a moment, look up at the sky, go for a run or spend some time out in nature. Otherwise, though, I’m doing well. I’m going through a busy period at work at the moment, and the summer looks set to be just as intense. But hopefully, by the end of it, there’ll be at least a bit of time off on the horizon.
Can an actor even afford a longer break?
In my view, anyone can afford to do whatever they want; it just takes a bit of effort to organise it and communicate it to others. I managed to do just that about a year ago, when I went to New York for four months to try living there. And it actually worked out. I just had to come back halfway through my stay to perform in a few shows. But I managed to sort everything out. I had to plan it about a year in advance, but it’s doable. I’m self-employed, so I’m my own boss when it comes to my time, which is sometimes good and sometimes challenging.
Speaking of New York, I have to ask: how do you view Trump’s America today?
What can I say? We’re speaking on the very day Trump is celebrating his eightieth birthday, which fascinates me in a way. He’s that old and still has so much energy. Or perhaps he has the energy to waste it in the way he does.
I think New York has always been a bit European. And because people from all over the world live there – which, of course, is nothing new – most people agree that it isn’t exactly typical America. So, in my view, it’s very anti-Trump. When I was there a year ago, back in January 2025 when he was inaugurated, there was a great deal of sadness and, in fact, everyone was afraid of what was going to happen.
His actions – which are unpredictable, very sudden and don’t really help anyone – terrify everyone. And it’s precisely that unpredictability that’s the most frightening thing about it. It makes me feel sad. At the same time, you find yourself wondering what you, as an individual, can do about it. I hope that his advanced age will eventually wear him down and that he might step down, or simply fade away. But I’m a bit afraid that won’t happen.
Let’s move on from Trump’s America back to us here in the Czech Republic. It’s June, which is traditionally Pride Month all over the world. Although Prague Pride isn’t held in the Czech Republic until August, we’re already marking Pride here in June. I’m referring to the Rainbow Ribbon campaign, which you’re part of. Why did you decide to get involved?
Quite simply because the campaign team approached me to ask if I’d like to get involved. And of course, it makes perfect sense to me. I was delighted that they saw potential in me to be one of the ambassadors.
At the same time, it’s a real joy for me, because I see the Rainbow Ribbon as a symbol of pride in who you are. And actually, I’m proud of all people who are different in some way. Whether in their way of thinking, how they look, what they do or how they do it. Provided, of course, they’re not harming others. That brings Mr Trump to mind again, whom we were just talking about.
That’s one side of the coin – that kind of positive pride. The other, of course, is the reminder that, in my view, the rights of LGBTQ+ people still aren’t where they ought to be. There simply isn’t complete equality here. Yes, we’re all different, and I think it’s good to respect that difference, but things still aren’t as they should be.
Of course, politically speaking – both globally and here at home – I feel that certain sentiments in society are becoming more polarised. That’s why it’s important to draw attention to this and to support everyone affected by it. And it’s important to say that the fact that someone is LGBTQ+ isn’t just about them. It’s also about their family, colleagues and the people around them. Their life and the challenges they face affect not only that individual, but also many other people.
We’ll of course get round to rights and politics in due course, but in the campaign advert you say that, for you, the Rainbow Ribbon symbolises a celebration of life. What exactly does ‘celebrating life’ mean to you in this context?
To live it to the full. Without compromise, without fear, without self-censorship. To be proud of who I am, with all my imperfections and perfections. And also precisely in that difference.
It was in New York that I became even more convinced of something I’d already felt deep down. I enjoy meeting different people with different stories, backgrounds, ethnicities and cultures. I feel that it can enrich a person. Or at least I always feel enriched. I’m fascinated by these people, and sometimes I even feel a bit dull in their company.
Unfortunately, however, some people perceive this as a danger or a threat. Simply because someone is different from them. And for me, that’s what the Rainbow Ribbon is all about.
When we’re talking about a campaign that’s actually about being proud of one’s difference in the Czech Republic, do you think people can afford to show that difference today? What’s life like here for gay, lesbian and transgender people?
We’re in the centre of Prague right now, sitting in a lovely café, and I think we have a pretty good life here. But I realise that this might be a privilege of living in the capital of the Czech Republic. It might not be the same elsewhere.
My personal story is, on the whole, one of the happier ones. I think I’m really happy here and don’t feel any oppression. I’ve experienced various minor incidents, but they haven’t had any devastating effect on me. If anything, they’ve shocked or surprised me that anyone still even cares about such things. I know, though, that I’m probably slightly privileged or luckier in this respect, and that not everyone has it so carefree.
And if we look at our neighbours in Slovakia – a country which, to me, still somehow feels part of our shared neighbourhood – the situation there is utterly bleak, shocking and terrifying. I still feel that things aren’t quite that bad here, but the question is how long that will last and whether we’re heading towards a more hate-filled atmosphere.
Since the revolution, there’s been a shift here where being different or having something unique about you has become the norm, and people haven’t had to hide so much. You’d think this trend would continue, that it would matter less and less, that we’d all be equal and it wouldn’t be an issue at all. But that’s not how it is. I find myself thinking that we humans really are a strange species, always needing to meddle in things and take a step backwards in our development instead of moving forwards.
Are you worried that the Czech Republic might actually take a step backwards, especially given that we’ve had a new government here since last autumn, which includes the SPD, a party that doesn’t address these issues in a particularly constructive way?
Yes, of course, that does cross my mind. But I have great faith in the strength of our president, who is open-minded and is addressing issues that the presidents immediately before him did not tackle. At the same time, I know that his role is constitutionally limited, but I find it reassuring that, in my view, things can’t go too far. I also feel that this society is quite active. When people are dissatisfied with something, they know how to express their discontent and disagreement by taking to the streets or launching petitions.
Since 2025, same-sex couples in the Czech Republic have been able to enter into a partnership that is closer to marriage than the previous registered partnership. At the same time, the term ‘marriage’ is still missing, and certain rights have not been brought into line, such as joint adoption. Do you see this as a victory, a compromise, or a missed opportunity?
Certainly not a victory. A compromise and a missed opportunity seem to me to be a more accurate description. I’m thinking of the energy of the people who got involved, fought for it and championed the cause in their own way. I’ve been in closest contact with Czeslaw Walek, who has long been campaigning for marriage for all. I see it as something of a disappointment, and indeed as a missed opportunity.
I don’t know how the majority of society views it. I get the feeling that some people are saying: ‘Well, you’ve finally got what you wanted, and we’re all equal now.’ But that’s still not the case. I think it’s mainly a matter of principle. Not only does it make life harder for people – and for those around them, too – because it doesn’t just affect the couple in question, but also their families, friends, how they function at work, and so on. Above all, though, it’s still not equal and there’s still a difference.
I don’t think I came up with this myself, but the analogy that it’s still more a matter of tolerance really strikes a chord with me. I feel we should be moving towards respect. When you respect another person, it means you recognise that they have all the same rights and responsibilities that you have. And we should all have them on an equal footing, because we’re all residents of the Czech Republic, we all pay taxes, and we all struggle with high rents. In that respect, we’re all exactly the same.
The rainbow ribbon, as I’ve already mentioned, is also linked to Prague Pride, which takes place every August. But it’s precisely around Pride that the same reactions keep cropping up: “Why do you have to shove it in everyone’s face?”, ‘Let everyone do what they want, but at home,’ ‘When will there be a straight people’s march?’, ‘Straight people don’t go parading their sexual orientation in the streets either,’ or ‘You can already do everything today, so what more do you want?’ How would you respond to people who think like that? And do you feel that such questioning of the meaning of Pride isn’t just coming from the majority of society these days, but sometimes even from LGBT+ people themselves?
I’d say that’s simply not the case. Those rights really aren’t fully secured yet. In my view, society’s attitude still isn’t respectful. And at the same time, it really isn’t just this community’s march.
What always moves me the most is that you suddenly see the relatives of these people there. You see a daughter with her grandmother, the parents of people who are heterosexual but feel that this inequality affects their loved ones, whom they care about. And they’re there to support them.
I realise – and I think this is also the media’s fault – that these parades are often presented mainly visually, through shocking photos and media soundbites from some of the participants. But the substance and the real power lie elsewhere. I remember that when you’re walking through Prague, you feel a sense of pride and are moved by how positively some people react to you. At the same time, there are negative reactions too, but you feel the strength and solidarity of the crowd. It’s simply still important.
And I’d be quite happy to see, for example, a Romani march take place here. I think that’s also a group of people who need a great deal of support and whose rights need to be upheld. At the same time, I think that Romani and LGBT identities can intersect, and within the Romani community these issues can also be very complex and challenging. So all of this relates to the broader theme of equality and support for people who need it.
When I mentioned social media in the previous question, do you ever come across negative comments or hate speech on your social media feeds, perhaps in connection with your Romani identity?
Sometimes, yes. There isn’t actually that much of it on my personal social media profile. But when, for example, an article is published – and I reckon even under the article we’re writing together right now – there tends to be a lot of hateful comments that really are on the edge. Perhaps even on the verge of a lawsuit.
Unfortunately, the online space allows for this. It offers anonymity. You can’t see these people. Often, though, it’s so over the top for me that it doesn’t actually affect me personally. I just think to myself that this isn’t right.
Do you moderate the comments on your social media, for example? Do you delete these extreme comments?
No, I don’t delete them. In fact, I ignore them, because I think it often doesn’t lead to any debate. Those people are often not even open to debating.
At the same time, though, I think – and I remind myself of this, so as not to be a hypocrite – that it’s probably a good idea to try and have a discussion even with someone who holds the opposite view. Provided they’re at least somewhat open to it. I’d really like to understand their point of view. What leads them to that view? What are they afraid of? In what way do they feel threatened? What is it about it that bothers them so much?
Do you feel that society today is generally more divided, and not just on LGBT+ issues? To what extent do you think this impression is created by social media, where mainly extreme views are heard, and to what extent does this actually carry over into everyday life? Isn’t it possible that, in reality, most people still agree on the fundamental issues?
It’s hard to say, because in my view social media is a completely different reality. I naturally move within a bubble of people who share similar views. So, in my bubble, the world isn’t right, but my views on it are similar to those of the people around me. We disagree on the same things, and the same things make sense to us.
On the other hand, I’m quite positive about this. I have a cottage in a small village and, of course, I don’t come into contact with everyone there either. But when it comes to the younger generation, for example, I get the feeling they’re relatively open-minded. Or at least willing to consider other points of view. They’ve been brought up a certain way, and their environment shapes them, but they don’t automatically oppose everything. They don’t feel that their opinion is the only correct one, and they’re willing to listen to others. That reassures me and fills me with hope.
Would you say that LGBT+ people in schools today have it easier in some ways than, say, our generation? Is it easier for them to come out?
It’s hard for me to judge that with complete accuracy, because I’m, after all, a bit further removed from this generation. But judging by what I see in the younger people around me, I get the feeling that in many respects, yes. At the same time, however, it seems that different issues are being discussed today than in the past. Coming out is no longer just about sexual orientation, but increasingly also about broader questions of one’s own identity – who one is and who one feels oneself to be.
I think visibility plays a big part. LGBT+ issues are discussed much more openly these days, and people who live their lives openly are more visible. For someone who is currently going through something similar, it can then be easier to identify with someone else, find a role model, or simply tell themselves: I’m not alone in this. And in my view, that is definitely a step in the right direction.
If it’s not too personal a question, what was your own coming-out experience like?
It went quite smoothly, I think. It actually didn’t happen until I was seventeen or eighteen, when I first really fell in love with a boy. The first people I spoke to about it were my parents.
It was a difficult situation for them. I think they were grappling with the fact that they’d somehow imagined a certain life for me – and for themselves – which had suddenly taken a slightly different turn. Naturally, they started to have all sorts of worries about me, because they knew that life might be more complicated for me in some respects.
But I think they handled it really well. And looking back, I also think it was important that they sought professional help. They went to see a psychologist to discuss it with him and to guide them through the process. I reckon that’s why they were able to come to terms with it in a relatively short time, and we’ve been on great terms ever since.
At the same time, they told me right from the start: ‘You’re our son and we’ll always love you, no matter what.’ But they didn’t hide their own feelings, questions, thoughts and uncertainties that this brought up in them either. And I think that’s actually the best possible way to go about it.
Then it gradually spread to another circle of people I knew. At the same time, though, at a certain point I realised I didn’t feel the need to talk about it with absolutely everyone, because it’s my own business. It might sound naive, but I don’t think it is. It really is just a question of who you fall in love with and who you’re attracted to. Otherwise, I don’t think it matters in life. It really doesn’t matter at all.
It doesn’t define a person.
Exactly. And that’s why I didn’t feel the need to tell certain people. Either they found out, or they didn’t. It was mainly important for me and those closest to me, so that I could come to terms with it myself.
It’s often said that a queer person doesn’t just go through one big coming out in their life, but lots of little coming-outs practically all the time. For example, at work or in everyday conversations, when you’re weighing up whether to say ‘my boyfriend’, ‘my girlfriend’, or whether to use a neutral term instead. Have you ever thought about these everyday situations, or is it more the case that it’s primarily about you and you don’t feel the need to explain anything to anyone?
That’s probably how it was at the start. You really do go through exactly these kinds of minor situations, as you say. I, too, had to find a certain amount of courage within myself to say, for example: ‘I’m going with my boyfriend’, not ‘my girlfriend’.
But partly because certain things about me are known and because I speak openly about them, I feel today that everyone already knows. And actually, it’s not really an issue at all anymore. I don’t have to go through it all over again.
At the same time, I feel that if someone doesn’t know about it today, it’s no longer as surprising to them as it perhaps used to be. How long has it been since then? Twenty years, actually. And fortunately, we’ve come a long way in that time, so it no longer comes as such a shock.
Do you think we’ll see full marriage equality for everyone in the Czech Republic in the foreseeable future, or are you rather sceptical about that?
I wouldn’t dare to predict that. I feel that society is already ready for it to a certain extent, but I’m afraid that we have so many problems and issues to deal with here at the moment that this topic won’t exactly be at the top of the agenda.
I think the same applies to some extent to culture, for example. It’s receiving a certain amount of attention at the moment; there’s a lot of talk about it, and the threats to it are being discussed, and in some ways it strikes me as similar. There, too, it’s about freedom, the right to something, and certain restrictions. I’m afraid that issues like this may remain on the sidelines and be pushed aside in favour of problems that seem more important or more pressing.
Let’s end this interview on a slightly more positive note: can you tell our readers and fans what’s in store for you now? What can they look forward to, and what brings you personal joy?
I’ve got a very busy summer ahead of me. I’ll be kicking it off with the world premiere of the film *Chica Checa*, which has been selected for the main competition at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival. I’m absolutely delighted about that. It’s also a film that explores the theme of queer identity and features a lot of drag. After that, I’ll be heading to the Shakespeare Festival to perform in *Marta na Kampě*, and we’ve also got trips planned to various corners of the Czech Republic with a musical recital of *The Little Prince*.
I’m also looking forward to perhaps spending some time at the cottage, where there are just trees, birds, a game of football with the foresters, and hardly anyone else. And at the same time, I’m quite looking forward to Diana Ross’s concert in Plzeň.
And will people see you at Prague Pride too?
Yes, that’s another important thing. I’m due to have a twenty-minute slot at the Prague Pride opening night, where I’ll be performing as La Chica. That’s my drag persona, which I created whilst making the film *Chica Checa*. I’m really looking forward to that. I’m a bit nervous about it, but actually I’m looking forward to the fact that it won’t be Honza Cina performing there, but La Chica in all her glory.
