Subculture or Counterculture: Kyiv’s Homosexual Communities in the Late Soviet and Post-Soviet Period (1985-2004)

This article is devoted to the study of the anthropological dimension of the existence of Kyiv’s homosexual communities in late Soviet and post-Soviet Kyiv. By outlining the interaction with urban spaces and dating practices, it emphasizes the existence of a separate communicative culture amongst non-heterosexual people.1 The research was developed during the course “Late Soviet and Post-Soviet Countercultures in Ukraine and East Central Europe” at the Invisible University for Ukraine and prepared for publication in collaboration with Kateryna Osypchuk (CEU) and Yevhen Yashchuk (University of Oxford). The research was supported by the Deutscher Akademischer Austauschdienst (DAAD).

This article aims to draw attention to the history of non-heterosexual people and enrich the research on Kyiv’s urban history. This topic demonstrates non-heterosexual experiences as an integral part of Kyiv’s urban space. Therefore, I will define the communicative culture of homosexual communities through the delineation of chronology, spatial dimensions, and linguistic and cultural practices.

The temporal framework spans the period from 1985 to 2004. The starting point, 1985, marks the symbolic beginning of the perestroika policy in the USSR, while the endpoint, 2004, coincides with the Orange Revolution in Kyiv, representing a key moment in the transition to the post-Soviet period in Ukrainian society. This timeframe is somewhat arbitrary, as the research focuses on the everyday life of a specific community, which could be periodized according to the lived experiences of its members.

The historiography of the life of non-heterosexual people in the USSR is fragmentary. Key points of reference for this study include the works of the following researchers: Dan Healey, who examines the historical dimensions of sexuality and gender within the context of Soviet society.2 Maksym Kasyanchuk3 and Vasyl Malikov4 have addressed issues related to the rights of LGBTQ+ communities, their representation in post-Soviet society, and their impact on social transformations. Kateryna Farbar focused on outlining the lesbian history of the Ukrainian post-Soviet space.5 Linguist Vladimir Kozlovskiy has analysed the linguistic characteristics of homosexual subcultures,6 while Tetiana Shchepanskaya has investigated the anthropological dimensions of subcultural existence.7

This research is based on two autobiographical and narrative oral history interviews with gay men8 and excerpts of personal testimonies from the lesbian archive platform.9

I seek the alternative to a linear and teleological approach to studying the LGBTQ+ movement in Ukraine. Instead, my focus lies in an anthropological examination of Kyiv’s homosexual community during the late Soviet and post-Soviet periods, conceptualized as a micro-community with its distinct communication system.

I argue that Kyiv’s homosexual communities had the characteristics of urban subcultures. The countercultural component of these communities can be seen differently. If the “countercultural” component of the homosexual community is defined as a counterculture to the heteronormative patriarchal culture, then the homosexual communities were a manifestation of opposition to the dominant heteronormative norm.10 However, providing a definitive answer to the question of countercultural elements within Kyiv’s homosexual communities remains challenging. These communities primarily represented a distinct sexual identity and the pursuit of a self-determined way of life.

In the Ukrainian SSR and later in independent Ukraine, affiliation with countercultural movements, particularly among gays, lesbians, and individuals engaged in diverse sexual practices, were significantly influenced by personal experiences: educational background, family persecution, exposure to Western cultural influences, and other factors. However, adopting an alternative framework for understanding culture reveals that the countercultural dimension of Kyiv’s homosexual subcultures lay in opposition to the prevailing norms of Soviet and post-Soviet culture in the city. The specific features of this cultural dimension’s definition are proposed for examination in the following sections.

Androgynе club in Kyiv11

Multiple chronologies (?)

Within the defined research framework, two distinct periods in the existence of Kyiv’s homosexual communities can be identified. The first period encompasses the criminalized conditions of 1985–1991, during which Kyiv and the Ukrainian SSR were part of the Soviet Union, where homosexual relations—specifically muzholozhstvo—were criminalized from 1934 until 1991. For instance, information on homosexuality or non-heterosexuality in Soviet academia was scarce and largely inaccessible.6 The second period begins after decriminalization, from 1991 to 2004. While decriminalization occurred, full equality of rights had not yet been achieved.

In the context of non-heterosexual history, the “post-Soviet” period may be considered to have ended when the legal rights of individuals whose social identities are based on their sexuality were fully recognized—such as with the legalization of same-sex partnerships in Ukraine. Although several draft laws on civil partnerships are currently under consideration in the Verkhovna Rada, they await legislative support for their adoption.12 The presence of LGBTQ+ individuals in the Ukrainian military13 underscores the urgency of adopting these laws. 

However, the chronological framework of this study is not rooted in changing societal attitudes toward non-heterosexual practices or identities but rather in political developments in Ukraine. This is because political shifts serve as a historical lens for defining the “late Soviet” and “post-Soviet” periods. In the anthropological dimension of the experiences of non-heterosexual communities, the only truly pivotal date within this chronological framework is 1991, marking the decriminalization of homosexuality. 2004 serves only as a symbolic boundary, signifying the end of the “post-Soviet” period in Ukraine’s political life. In 2004, Ukraine witnessed the Orange Revolution, which exemplified the potential for organizing a large-scale peaceful protest and defending the right to fair elections.14

Within the lived experiences of non-heterosexual communities, this latter date holds no significant resonance, even as of 2024, amidst the ongoing Russian-Ukrainian war. To establish the chronological scope of this article, I focus on these two periods (1985–1991 and 1991–2004) in the lives of homosexual communities in Kyiv.

I will examine in greater detail the defined period of criminalized homosexuality. The available statistics on individuals convicted in the Ukrainian SSR and the USSR during the late Soviet period under criminal articles prohibiting homosexual relations provide valuable insights. This data allows us to trace the dynamics and compare the “effectiveness” of these laws in suppressing homosexuals. The number of convictions was relatively low, because it was difficult to legally prove homosexual relationships. Moreover, the law prohibiting homosexual relationships served primarily as an official tool of political homophobia, used to target political “enemies.”

Between 1985 and 1991, 449 people were officially convicted under the article muzholozhstvo in the Ukrainian SSR.15 In the USSR, convictions for same-sex relationships peaked in 1985 and then began to decline.16 In the case of the Ukrainian SSR, 148 people were convicted in 1985, and 45 in 1989.17 The rates began to decline after the collapse of the Soviet Union and the decriminalization of homosexuality. Consensual homosexual relationships between adults ceased to be considered a crime. However, due to the “absence” of enacted legalization laws defining the rights of LGBTQ+ persons, numerous mechanisms of discrimination and blackmail remained and continue to persist. Between the 1960s and 1980s, the Soviet Union underwent a “quiet” sexual revolution. It was during this time that various discourses on sex education gradually spread.18

In the late criminalization period, places in large cities of the Soviet Union where homosexual people met and got to know each other were called “pleshky.” These were places in the public spaces in a large city, usually squares, parks, and beaches.19 In Soviet society, the “pleshka” played a significant role in shaping various social identities—gays, lesbians, non-binary individuals, men who had sex with men, and women who had sex with women. “Pleshky” emerged in large cities in the modern period, and over time, became structured, distinguishing between “permanent” and “non-permanent” visitors, hierarchizing different “pleshky,” and developing its slang. The peak of the development of the “pleshka” in Soviet cities was in the 1970s, when the USSR experienced stability or stagnation and predictability of the authorities’ actions.20

Since, the fall of the Soviet Union, “pleshky” fell into decay, which led to a sadness recalled by those who remembered them:

We got a sense of their exuberant youth from the impressive memoirs of numerous eyewitnesses about the teeming pleshka. And their immeasurably large number for such a small provincial town. And, finally, about the tolerant attitude of others (due to their ignorance) towards people of non-traditional orientation… For private parties, the more elite and daring rented rooms in inexpensive hotels (….) Stories of such evenings of fun and carnal pleasures were passed down by word of mouth, and some ended with unexpected visits from KGB officers at the most compromising moments. (…) Time has passed. The old faces were joined by new ones—the young, that is, us… Time passed, and seasons changed. The young became more mature and experienced. And then the question arose: “Are there so few of us?”… Everything had changed in the country. The malicious article in the Criminal Code was cancelled. It was time to rejoice, but everything began to rot and fall apart right before our eyes. The period of new economic relations has reduced the frequency of visits to the pleshka. All those who were united dissolved into the masses, absorbed in their own concerns. The community began to die off. But the people remained the same….”21

This also serves as a vivid passage from another perspective. It allows us to recognize the “inseparable” component of unifying experiences within homosexual communities shaped by marginalization in Soviet society.

Criminalized homosexuality functioned as both a dividing line and a point of convergence, fostering shared experiences and the creation of common “unofficial” spaces.

The Kyiv homosexual communities were a subculture. Ultimately, a subculture represents a signifying and communicative system that emerges independently and operates autonomously within the broader cultural context. This system is characterized by two key components: the means and channels of communication.22 The means refer to specific signs and symbols employed within a particular community, which enable the community to define corporeality, space, and time. Such means of communication include slang, jargon, and other forms of verbal behaviour. This is precisely what shapes a subculture, creates a community, and unites its members through shared experiences.

It was in the early 1990s that various bars and clubs began to emerge. However, several times a week, these venues transformed into spaces for meetings, socializing, seeking love, or engaging in casual sex for non-heterosexual individuals. During this period, the significance of the “pleshky” themselves gradually diminished. Indirect evidence of this can be found in the testimony of Interviewee 1:

Then, as I said, in the late 90s, people started to get richer, some of them started earning decent money in the mid-90s. We always gathered at my friend’s house. Every single day he was a famous restaurateur, and it was hard to get in from the bottom of the barrel—it was patronage. But every evening, about 15 people would gather there after work, and he would set the table, always cook like this….23

The consequences of legal reforms and improved economic conditions were accompanied by a political revival, which stemmed from the legalization of homosexuality. For example, on 20 March 1993, the first LGBTQ+ NGO, Ganimed,24 was established, beginning its work to fight against the AIDS epidemic. In 1996, the Mykolaiv Association of Gays, Lesbians, and Bisexuals Liga was registered; in 1999, Your Life [Tvoie zhyttia] organization was registered in Kyiv; Our World [Nash svit] in Luhansk; and the Women’s Network was founded in 2000.25 During this period, non-heterosexual people began to actively talk about HIV and AIDS, to spread information that AIDS is not primarily a gay disease. The development of human rights and the founding of the respective civic organizations were not unproblematic, but these processes testify to the intensification of human rights discourses regarding people with different sexual identities. 

The decriminalization of homosexuality in Ukraine in 1991 catalyzed new processes within Ukrainian homosexual communities. These included the revitalization of the human rights movement, the decline of “pleshky,” the emergence and operation of gay bars, and increasing attention to lesbian spaces (which, in comparison to gay spaces, remained less visible). These aspects will be explored in greater detail in the following section.

Urban space

Space is an important component of the subculture. I approach spaces—“pleshky,” as interviewees recall the meeting places of homosexual people—as channels of the communication system. These channels within the communication system were particularly significant during the period of criminalization of homosexuality in the Ukrainian SSR.

These places were clearly defined in space and remain in people’s memories. For example, Interviewee 1 answered the question “Where did gays meet back then?” as follows: “Pleshky, these very ‘pleshky’ (…) you know very well about (…) [pleshky] on Khreshchatyk, Shevchenko Park, Volodymyrska Hirka—nothing new. Well, the same as it was.” Interviewee 2 answered the same question in more detail and offered an imaginary tour that included a number of spaces in Kyiv:

I met some young guys there, and they showed me the whole of Kyiv from a completely different perspective. (…) They showed me places where gay people gather in Kyiv. (…) I’m going to give you a little tour of all the places I was shown. Of course, when you go to Khreshchatyk, you go for a walk along Khreshchatyk. Then you leave Khreshchatyk a little because you’re tired of walking there. You’ve seen everyone there, greeted everyone. You keep walking. Then the route goes like this. You go to Lev Tolstoy Square. (…) You go up from Lev Tolstoy Square to Shevchenko Park. And in Shevchenko Park, your first excursion begins. There are (…) benches. People sit there, play chess, chess. And gay men are sitting next to them. They talk and drink. They get to know each other on the benches. It was the first such place. Then you… You get tired of sitting there. You go down Volodymyrska Street. You get to the Ministry of Internal Affairs. (…) There is a park there. There were also benches there. Gay men also gathered there. They would sit and talk. They met people there. Then you go… to St Volodymyr’s Hill. That was the most fateful place. It was where everyone gathered in general. There was a large gathering of our gay men there. (…) Then you go down to the Dynamo stadium. At the Dynamo Stadium, there is also a park. It goes up a bit. There were carousels there. There were merry-go-rounds and the like. Some people drank beer, some vodka, some just sat and talked. Then you leave the Dynamo Stadium. You go up to the Ministry of Health. Where the Ministry of Healthcare is, there were also these benches there. There were also gay men sitting there, talking and getting to know each other. (…) You pass through all these parks, through the Verkhovna Rada. You get to the end [the final stop of a public transport route], where the Holodomor monument is. And there was the last one… There were such big parks there. And we also gathered there. This is a small tour of it.26

Gay and lesbian communities were predominantly separate from each other. In the archive of lesbian history, Kateryna Farbar wrote as follows about Kyiv’s situational lesbian “pleshka”:

For example, there was the pleshka in Dorohozhytskyi Park, where girls from the Borda (or Doska) forum gathered on benches in the alley leading from the metro (…) Another pleshka of the same kind was organized by the girls in Druzhby Narodiv Park. Olha Olshanska says that she and a group of Kyiv fans of the Russian band Butch, which was especially popular among lesbians in the 2000s, met on benches near the monument to Panikovskyi (6 Prorizna Street, Kyiv).27

In other words, gay and lesbian “pleshky” largely operated independently of one another. The history of lesbian urban spaces is closely intertwined with gay culture, as lesbians often passively integrated into locations already organized by gay men.28 A striking confirmation can be found in a quote from one of the respondents, Kateryna Farbar: “Stometrivka has never been a place for lesbians, it only started to appear for women in the 2000s, before that it was pleshka for gay, and everyone knew about it.”29

Rostok club in Kyiv30

Speaking about clubs, Interviewee 2 noted that, initially, there were small establishments occasionally used as meeting places for the gay community, often limited to specific days, such as Fridays. These venues provided opportunities for communication, relationship-building, and the exchange of experiences. Over time, larger gay clubs and cafés emerged, becoming significant hubs of social life. The interviewee also mentioned support from local police, which helped prevent the closure of these spaces. By the late 1990s and early 2000s, the number of such establishments had reached its peak:

I think in [19]95, I don’t remember when. The first big café opened, which later turned into a gay club called Matroska Tyshyna  [English: Sailor’s Silence]. It was located on Klovsky Descent, and before that, the first gay club appeared. It was called U mamy Tanі [English: Mum Tanya’s]. Furthermore, it was on Kikvidze Street, I don’t know what Kikvidze Street is called now (…) Boychuk Street, yes, yes. And there she had a club called Mum Tanya’s, a club, as it were. An ordinary one, for ordinary people. It was from some kind of factory; I don’t remember what it was from. And on Fridays, our gay men gathered there. That’s where the first relationships took place. It was [19]94. There you could see any star (…) This was the first place where everyone could talk. It was on Fridays. They didn’t do it on Saturdays, only on Fridays. And not all Fridays, because it was very difficult. Well, if we hadn’t been covered by the police at that time, maybe it would have been forbidden. But you know what I mean. Clubs were not yet sanctioned. And then there was Matroska Tyshyna. And after Matroska Tyshyna, it was Tyshyna in [19]95-96, and then the Kletka [English: Cage] club. In [19]99, in Pechersk, where the Shaiba [English: Puck], as it’s called, is located, I don’t know now. The first Kletka club started there. The current one was not Androgynе, it was Rostok, the Rostok House of Culture. Then it was renamed Androgynе. (…) After Rostok, there was M-Club, the first gay sauna. There was also the Stray Dog, a café. It was also located nearby. And the first club, also a huge club, where I started working, was located nearby on Vorovskyi Street, the Sovok [English: Scoop] (…) Probably, at that time, at the beginning of the 2000s, the end of the [19]90s, there were more gay places like this than there are now (laughs).26

This excerpt is particularly notable because it illustrates the impact of the introduction of a market economy on the lives of homosexual communities in Kyiv. Following the dissolution of the Soviet Union and Ukraine’s transition to a market-based economy, new business opportunities emerged, including establishing recreational spaces for the LGBTQ community. The market thus enabled entrepreneurs to lease venues to LGBTQ communities as a means of generating income. Previously, this was impossible due to the criminalization of homosexuality.

However, with the transition to a market economy, such developments became feasible, thereby accelerating social interaction among non-heterosexual individuals and fostering the formation of the LGBTQ+ movement in Ukraine.

An interesting reference in this regard can be found in the words of one of the respondents of the study, by Kateryna Farbar. She recalled the club Rostok. A respondent mentioned that entry to the club was free, but the markup on drinks was exorbitant: 

I remember when the Rostok was still just a club (…). And I was a poor student, and entrance to the club was free until 22:00 (I think). We were constantly faced with the task of being on time—but not just on time, but also in time to drink beforehand, because we didn’t have enough money for the bar’s markup. I remember these speed races—it was fun. And in front of Rostok there was a round-the-clock kiosk with gin and tonic and other low-alcohol drinks, which you could pop into in the middle of the night.31

Thus, it is possible to see that there is more information available about male homosexual “pleshky” in Kyiv and about male bars than about female ones. This can be explained by the greater visibility of homosexual men in a patriarchal environment and the silence of sources about lesbian history in Kyiv. Therefore, it can be assumed that homosexual subcultures of women and men were in contact with each other, but they existed autonomously. This can be confirmed by the statement of Interviewee 2: “I used to talk to lesbians all the time. I have friends from the 90s who are also from there… They also listened to our records, talked to us, and wanted to meet people like them, extraordinary people. But I don’t know their subculture like that any more, you know?”32

Therefore, it is possible to determine the most popular “pleshky” (Stometrivka on Khreshchatyk, Hydropark, Taras Shevchenko Park, the park on Volodymyrska Hill) and clubs (Matroska Tyshyna, Androgyne, Sovok) in Kyiv. These spaces shaped the homosexual subculture in Kyiv. They were not exclusively for non-heterosexual individuals, but were part of the ordinary urban fabric of Kyiv. At the same time, they became an integral part of creating a social space for LGBTQ+ people, serving as venues for socializing and finding love. In the following sections, I define the characteristics of communication of the homosexual communities of Kyiv. These features distinguished the use of space by non-heterosexual individuals from other Kyivans—language, slang, and cultural practices.

Communication: channels and means

Kyiv’s homosexual subcultures had their peculiarities of communication. First, it is necessary to mention the language and slang that non-heterosexual people used. Interviewee 1, when I asked what language was spoken on the “pleshka,” answered that it was Russian.33 It is also interesting to consider the jargon and slang that could have been heard. For example, Interviewee 2, in response to my question about a stereotypical view of “gay radar,” noted that he understood that he was facing a gay man by the way he was dressed, behaved, and spoke, namely:

Evocative clothing (…) and behaviour. Habalka, [habalka is a slang word for a gossipy person; as the ending of the word has the feminine gender “-la,” “-ka”] “-la,” talking in “-la.” You leave, and they are sitting there, drinking beer, and talking to each other in “-la.” Among themselves. And you hear this conversation, and it hits you in the head, and you understand: “Here, here are yours. Go and talk to them.”26

In other words, the interviewee notes that homosexual men used feminine-gendered words. They did so to signal their belonging to the gay community. This phenomenon is quite characteristic of gay communities within the Soviet space. For instance, T. Krombach, a scholar of homosexual slang, has documented similar practices. He recorded interviews with homosexual men in St. Petersburg who confirmed that in their conversational environment, there were words that signified female gender: “davalka,” “pidovka,” “mumochka,” “babushka,” etc. Each of these words could have its own coded meaning.34 Also, homosexual men in St. Petersburg named the places “pleshka” using sexual themes. 

In addition, regarding the channels and means of communication of the homosexual subculture, since 1991 advertisements in newspapers or later forums have become an important means. For example, Interviewee 2 said: “Back then there was no communication like now, no internet. There was a newspaper called AIDS-info [SPIDinfo]. You wrote ads there. A man wants to meet a man, you know, and that’s it. And there was Teletekst. I remember they were writing in Teletext.”32 Researcher of lesbian history Kateryna Farbar also recalled the importance of periodicals in the lives of lesbians:

The appearance of the Russian newspaper AIDS-info, which was also distributed in Ukraine, was significant during this period: it marked the beginning of a period for LGBT people in the former USSR. In addition to information about AIDS, sexuality education, etc., this month’s edition also published private ads, including in the section for “sexual minorities,” which were also placed by lesbians. (…) Disclosing personal addresses or phone numbers in the newspaper was out of the question, so lesbians usually rented post office boxes. (…) The places where the lesbian community began to form an association were chats and forums. The first popular platform was a forum on the website of the fan club of the Russian singer Zemfira, which was created by two lesbians from St Petersburg. In those years, lesbian culture in Ukraine was heavily influenced by Russian lesbian culture, so the dating space was concentrated in the early Runet.35

This recollection showed that first periodicals and then the Internet became important platforms for the life of homosexual people in Ukraine. Non-heterosexual individuals had the opportunity not only to connect online, but also to develop social networks to foster activism.36

Thus, the Kyiv homosexual community of men and separately homosexual women had signs of a subculture that had a sense of community, their own spaces, slang, and similar channels of communication and means of expression. All of this was accompanied in the post-Soviet period by the increased use of the Internet and the deep development of activism.

Subculture and counterculture

Now I turn to a definition of a cultural space of the homosexual subculture. Based on the recorded interviews, it becomes clear that the importance of consuming a cultural product could be different for each person. It depended on upbringing, level of education, financial status, and gender. As with the previous themes, there is much less information about the lesbian homosexual subculture on this topic. Therefore, here I will elaborate on the issue of Kyiv’s male homosexual subculture. First, it is significant to look at the clothing and style of the subculture as described by the selected interviewees. Interviewee 1 said that during this period there was a desire to be different from others, namely: 

Well, of course, like everyone else. Of course. Then you realize that this is all… as it were…  It looks much nicer than some kind of ‘parrot.’ Well, I have nothing against it, for God’s sake. I had hair of all colours (laughs) and there was nothing like this. Well, I didn’t dare to put holes in myself…23

The selected interviewees expressed a desire to stand out and differentiate themselves from the broader Soviet society. In the narrators’ communicative memory, discussions about music are directly associated with the second period of our study, 1991–2004. This correlation arises from the emergence of bars and establishments during this time when gays and lesbians could freely socialize. Interviewee 1 mentioned different musical subcultures and his musical preferences several times during the interview. As for subcultures, he had heard a lot about them and their favourite bands. For example, he mentioned the drummer of the Russian rock band Kino, namely:

Well, at least no one went out and waved it like a flag. There were all sorts of rockers and smokers—these were enough. These are the ones who drive. I don’t know what was happening in bed with these rockers, although I suspect (…). Listen, the fact that the drummer in Kino slept with the bass player [male] was news to anyone? It’s Tsoi, it’s all this. I have a friend who made the first film about Tsoi—The End of the Holidays, which was in [19]86, but it was just Chernobyl, everything… he did his thesis at the Karpenko-Karyi Institute, and he made this short film, thought about it and brought it to Kino. Well, at that time everyone was the same age, including Tsoi, and this guy made this short film. It’s called The End of the Holiday… It’s horrible, you watch it now—it’s all Soviet film, it’s just awful. He was later expelled for this, for Tsoi, for all this.23

It was also interesting that, according to Interviewee 1, he has always loved listening to Western English-language music, especially the Beatles. He talked about it as follows:

Well, yeah, I was like this black sheep, because… they have all this heavy metal thundering around, and I have the Beatles singing… he’s been in a bunker for the last 30 years (laughs). I said: yes, you admire your rock bands so much, which still have some old men running around in their 80s and who are stingy on decent drugs and don’t… as all rock musicians should.37

However, it is noteworthy that he mentioned the events in the clubs and noted that gays listened to music by various Russian artists. He said:

This is the story with Pugacheva [Alla Pugacheva is a Russian-Soviet singer] … I also listened to the club Edita Piekha [Soviet singer], Stanislavovna. She sang at the birthday party of one of our gay clubs. I can even find it on YouTube somewhere. Edita Pieha, yes. I warned them [organizers] because last year Gurchenko [Lyudmyla Gurchenko is a Soviet singer] came and sang. She died afterward. They said it was bad karma and that something else would happen, but it didn’t.37

This excerpt becomes an important part of the description of the “post-Soviet” period. The narrator clearly describes events that occurred after 2004. After all, Lyudmyla Gurchenko attended the opening of the gay club Andybar in 2010.38 Interviewee 2 also mentioned Russian singers: Alla Pugacheva, Angelika Varum, and Valeria:

And I did a lookalike show there. (…) And I did three looks there: I did the look of Alla Pugacheva, and then I did the look of Valeria, and then I did the look of Angelica Varum. These were my first attempts at acting. And it somehow went, went, went, went. And it went in a positive direction. And until 2003, it was a double show. That is, for almost 13 years it was a double show. It was some kind of improvised show. It was not professional. Likewise, it was just like that: concerts, New Year’s lights, you know, some such things.32

Some lesbians liked to listen to the Russian singer Zemfira and the rock band Butch.39 Thus, both Western and Soviet Russian-language music and Russian-language counterculture (rock, heavy metal) were popular among gay and lesbian subcultures.

The spread of the Russian language and Russian music among Kyiv citizens demonstrates how the Soviet government’s discourse was disseminated primarily through the Russian language. The prominence of Russian-language countercultural music, even in subcultural communities, reflects the deep influence of Soviet cultural policy, which promoted the dominance of the Russian language across all republics of the USSR, including UkSSR. Despite rock and metal being forms of resistance or alternative identity expressions, the use of the Russian language in these musical genres reinforced the Soviet-imposed linguistic and cultural hierarchy.

Researcher Anastasia Wakengut observes that in the Belarusian context, the juxtaposition of “traditional” highlights the “practical” function of the Russian language and the symbolic function of the Belarusian language. This dynamic can be compared to the linguistic situation in Kyiv, where a similar contrast between Russian and Ukrainian was evident during the period under study. It serves as a vivid example of how a countercultural movement can act as a transmitter of elements from the official power discourse. In this case, the continued dominance of the Russian language as a medium for both mainstream and alternative forms of expression in the Soviet and post-Soviet spaces.

The “pleshky” were places where people sought to meet, fall in love, or find a partner for sex. For example, Interviewee 1 answered the question about his attitude to politics at the time by saying that he was not interested in politics. He was primarily thinking about expressing himself and seeking sexual experience:

We were small. Were we interested in Brezhnev, who was an old man, barely able to speak? Or Gorbachev’s chatter? Somehow, I don’t know about politics. Well, at least, our community was not so politicized. It didn’t matter. When you’re 20 years old, your dick is hard 24 hours a day, you’re not going to be interested in Gorbachev or politics or whatever… What’s going on there, man? Did Chernovil [Vyacheslav Chornovil Candidate for the President of Ukraine from the Ukrainian National Democratic Liberation Movement in the first presidential elections of Ukraine in 1991] get out of prison? No, well, there were certain moments of it because they were influenced by the Soviet system. Well, it was understandable from the beginning. None of this was discussed.23

He also recalled that among the visitors to the “pleshky” and clubs were people who could be related to the authorities and the church, namely:

I remember that anyone could appear there in their company. Starting with Viktyuk [Roman Viktyuk is a Soviet-Ukrainian film director], he has a friend here who brought him to Kyiv and the Stroynyi group, or rather, the troupe. To some very high-ranking officials, let’s say… And priests would have been there.37

This statement is in line with what is written in the Rainbow Book, namely that visitors to the “pleshka” and clubs were different—some visited them to find a partner for sex, and some to be with “their own.” 

This variant of “counterculturalism” could be seen as homosexuals’ existence in a larger heterosexual world, while manifestations of “counterculture” in Soviet everyday life did not depend on involvement in different sexual identities or practices. It is also important to note that this optic of “counterculture” to the Soviet one is possible only during the period of criminalization of homosexuality. Afterward, the cultural alternative faced new realities of life. According to an article by Bohdan Shumylovych, who used the example of Lviv, alternative cultures faced the “new” rules of the market and moved toward “traditional” culture.40

In the post-Soviet period, the development of the human rights movement, the emergence of the LGBTQ+ community, and the feminist movement can be considered a form of “counterculture” among non-heterosexual communities. These movements became key components in shaping a countercultural space in opposition to the dominant heteronormative and patriarchal framework, within which religious organizations began to play a significant role since the time of Ukraine’s independence.

Conclusion

The history of non-heterosexual individuals during the late Soviet and post-Soviet periods has been examined from various perspectives. The research on the formation of the LGBTQ+ community in Ukraine is still ongoing. This study focuses on the sexual subcultures of Kyiv during the late Soviet and post-Soviet periods, within symbolically defined chronological boundaries. The study highlights the unique characteristics and evolution of Kyiv’s homosexual subcultures during the late Soviet and early post-Soviet periods. These subcultures emerged as countercultural spaces within a dominant heteronormative and patriarchal society, defined by distinct slang and cultural practices. The history of this relatively brief period provides valuable insights into the meeting places of Kyiv’s homosexual community, their slang, and the dynamics of community formation. Moreover, this time frame helps to elucidate key cause-and-effect relationships, such as the diminishing role of the pleshky, the politicization of the community, and the establishment of NGOs.

The interviews conducted offer a window into the lives of non-heterosexual individuals through an autobiographical lens. Kyiv’s homosexual communities were notably diverse, comprising distinct lesbian and gay groups that often remained separate. Even though lesbian subcultures could share the same spaces as gay subcultures, they developed independently. Due to the patriarchal social structure, lesbian history of this period was less visible. Additionally, some individuals did not align themselves with these specific communities or identities but frequented these spaces for various reasons—for instance, men who have sex with men or women who have sex with women. These communities exhibited many characteristics of subcultures, which was particularly evident when homosexuality was criminalized, reinforcing their autonomy and subcultural identity. However, after the decriminalization of homosexuality, these communities gradually lost some of their subcultural traits and began to assert their rights more openly within society. In Ukraine, this process continues to the present day, as the LGBTQ+ community must still fight for their rights, particularly in the context of the ongoing Russo-Ukrainian war.

Through micro-level examples from interviews, I have explored the cultural products shaped by this environment and demonstrated that “counterculture” within the homosexual subcultures can be interpreted in various ways: either as a counterculture to heteronormative patriarchal society or as a counterculture to Soviet everyday life. In the latter case, interpretations varied depending on the personal life experiences of each individual within the homosexual subcultures. I hope that my article will raise awareness of the importance of recognizing and understanding the experiences of the LGBTQ+ community in Ukraine.

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    [↩]
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  37. Ibid. [↩] [↩] [↩]
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  39. Kateryna Farbar,“Stysla ukrainska lesbiiska istoriia 1990–2000 rokiv.” [↩]
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