Filed Under: Print > Journalism > Gays and Lefties: Comrades in Misfortune
Gays and Lefties: Comrades in Misfortune

Gays and Lefties: Comrades in Misfortune
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They're different. We need to get used to the fact that they live among us, and that, in the end, their life and love are their own private business.
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The Tchaikovsky Cultural Foundation has been officially operating in the city for a year now. It began in a somewhat scandalous and theatrical way: during a break in a session of the city council, Olga—the foundation's then-director—handed out imported condoms to deputies (and for some reason gave clear preference to the Communist faction when distributing them). Today, the foundation has settled down and is engaging in serious work. Foundation chairman Yuri Yeremeyev (surname changed at Yuri's request) welcomed me to his apartment, which temporarily serves as his office, graciously agreeing to give an interview.
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For a year and a half, our foundation operated underground. Since those days, we’ve retained our code name—Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. We've accomplished an enormous amount: prison visits, symposia, festivals, human rights work, humanitarian aid, and extensive business contacts with Western colleagues. This year we held Russia's first international Christopher Street Day festival (we participated in similar festivals in Berlin in 1991 and 1992). Recently our delegation visited Rotterdam, where we received a very warm welcome at City Hall, with all kinds of help and support. (Getting in to see Rotterdam's mayor, by the way, proved easier than meeting V. Mutko—Sobchak's deputy for social issues.)
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What's the story behind this unusual festival name?
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The worldwide gay movement began with events in New York on 27 July 1969. A large crowd had gathered in one of the illegal gay bars on Christopher Street. The bar was controlled by the mafia, who also paid off the police. That day, eight police officers burst in and, attacking the gays with crude insults, demanded money. The police hadn’t encountered resistance before and didn’t expect any this time, either, but they got it.
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What does “homophobia” mean?
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Mild homophobia is when someone can't accept any sexual minorities. More often, we encounter aggressive homophobia—people ready to kill or beat you just for being different, for being gay or lesbian. That is our main problem—you can't tell anyone anywhere that you're homosexual. At work or school, coming out usually means getting fired, plus it creates huge complications with relatives. If someone officially declares they're homosexual and goes through the proper procedures, they're not drafted into the army. But if a young man only comes out as gay, or is forced to be gay, once in the army, he faces a very grim fate. On the one hand, many want to take advantage of gays, and on the other, they hate them because that's how they were raised.
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The notorious Article 121 [against homosexuality] still hasn't been repealed, and I understand you were convicted under it yourself.
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Yes, in 1984 I was convicted—sentenced to 4 years. I was released in '87 under Gorbachev's amnesty. I considered and still consider that sentence political persecution.
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Are people born this way or do they become this way?
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More often born, very rarely become. Soviet propaganda used to insist that homosexuality was a crime, or an illness requiring treatment. In reality, it's not an illness but a physical characteristic, like being left-handed or hunchbacked. “Treating” homosexuality is impossible and unnecessary—according to Freud, such “treatment” turns unexpressed sexual needs into aggression.
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I should note that according to numerous scientific studies conducted both here and in the West, about 10 percent of the population is homosexual—including in St. Petersburg. And for these people, we need to create clubs, cafes, discos, medical, legal and psychological support services—these are our fellow citizens, after all. In the West, they handle gay and lesbian issues in a much more civilized way. In countries like America or Germany, they're protected by special gay police, and the state subsidizes gay organizations.
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And like any public organization, do these influence, say, US presidential elections?
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Correct. President Clinton, in fact, promised during his campaign to pay more attention to gay and lesbian issues, to change laws in states where their rights are violated. I think this really helped Clinton in the election. Meanwhile, in Russia, Sobchak recently declared in an interview that there would be no gay publications or events in Petersburg. Well, first of all, they already exist, and second, in the upcoming elections Sobchak can forget about our 10 percent of the vote.
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Yuri, is your foundation's membership growing?
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Yes. All our events are aimed at helping people stop being afraid to reveal their true selves. Besides the seven discos we've held (the last one drew over 500 people) and several festivals, we've prepared a very attractive newspaper called Christopher, which will be distributed among both gay and straight people. By the way, don't think only sexual minorities join the foundation. For instance, our board includes the well-known artist Kirill Miller; Vladimir Vesyolkin, lead singer of the band AuktsYon; A. Rakhmanova, Petersburg's chief infectious disease specialist; and the psychologist D. Isaev—straight people who sympathize with us and try to help.
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Do you have a special culture, your own art?
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There's no special culture, just as there's no special truth or special sky. We're people like everyone else. There is no “gay” or “straight” art, just art or non-art. We don't listen to Tchaikovsky or admire Michelangelo's works because they were homosexual. Most gay people are artistic, and when someone expresses their dual nature, combining masculine and feminine principles, it tremendously boosts their creative potential. Among distinguished people of our orientation are Oscar Wilde, Vaslav Nijinsky, the Silver Age poets Mikhail Kuzmin and Nikolai Klyuev, the film director Paradzhanov and many others. Among contemporaries there are many gay popular performers, for instance, or people famous in other fields. We even want to elect Alexander Glebovich Nevzorov as our foundation's honorary president.
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What are the Tchaikovsky Foundation's immediate plans?
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Getting an office, for which our Western friends are ready to provide computers and equipment; creating a dating service, a hotline for gays and lesbians; implementing an anti-AIDS program, opening our own cafe and publishing our own newspaper, and continuing with our discos. Let's try to live side by side, respecting everyone and not interfering with each other!"
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Anna POLYANSKAYA
The subject of this 1992 item, published in the monthly magazine Smena, was a founding member of the P. I. Tchaikovsky Foundation, a community not-for-profit organization defending the rights and interests of LGBTQ people in Russia. Although he uses his real first name, Yuri, he assumes the surname “Eremeev” to shield himself from the risks associated with publicly declaring a gay identity. He tells the interviewer that he served three years in prison in the 1980s following a conviction under Article 121 of the Soviet criminal code, which prohibited “sodomy [muzhelozhestvo]” and remained in force until 1993. He goes on to enumerate the many social liabilities facing openly gay Russians even following the fall of the Soviet Union, including damage to family and social relationships and endangered career and employment prospects.
The name of Yuri’s organization—which he calls a “code name” from a period when they operated underground—signals a connection to prerevolutionary Russian gay cultural history. Specifically, the group is named after a revered figure from the Russian cultural canon whose homosexuality was broadly accepted as historical fact. At the same time, the interview reveals a distinctly Western orientation, with Russian LGBTQ events modeled on Western (American) LGBTQ history, most prominently a “Christopher Street Day” commemorating the watershed event at the Stonewall Inn in New York in 1969. This double reference—to pre-Soviet Russian LGBTQ cultural history and contemporary Western, post-Stonewall models—typifies LGBTQ identity formation in 1990s Russia.
The interview also exhibits another feature of discussions around gay men and lesbians at the time: the nature and extent of their difference from other people. In opposition to a perception of gays and lesbians as sexual “deviants,” some activists insisted that these were valid, distinct human categories with unique perspectives on the world, and specific intellectual and aesthetic sensibilities responsible for integral contributions to world culture. “Eremeev” suggests that gay men may be more inclined towards the arts because both the “masculine and feminine principles” are more fully expressed in them than in heterosexual men. Yuri’s analogy of gayness with left-handedness (and being a “hunchback”) recalls similar tropes in the Russian discourse on homosexuality. For many Russian commentators, both traits represent an innate, essential distinction that confers differences of perception and perspective. These, in turn, putatively offer advantages in poetry, art, music, or philosophy.
Yuri signals membership in a category of Western-oriented LGBTQ Russians in the early 1990s. The defining characteristics of this group were adoption of Western-styled LGBTQ identities and claiming a Western cultural identity for pre-Soviet Russia, which was then used to justify a Western cultural trajectory for post-Soviet Russia. The proposed Western path for post-Soviet Russia included the broad social and cultural incorporation of sexual and gender-identity pluralism that was still a relative novelty in Western societies themselves. The Tchaikovsky reference serves a dual purpose here: he is a cardinal figure in Russian high culture, and, at the same, time a cardinal figure of the Western musical canon. His homosexuality was, during his lifetime and after, an open secret, allowing him to serve as a representative of homosexuality in pre-Soviet Russian culture. That Yuri would adopt this hybrid perspective, with its nationalistic elements, is especially notable given that he served time in Russian prison after conviction under an anti-sodomy law still in force at the time of his Smena interview.