You're reading: Gay couple marries, looks for acceptance

Editor’s Note: This article is part of the “Journalism of Tolerance” special project by the Kyiv Post and its affiliated non-profit organization, the Media Development Foundation. The project cover problems and challenges faced by sexual, ethnic and other minorities in Ukraine. It is made possible by the support of the American people through the United States Agency for International Development (USAID) and Internews. The contents are the sole responsibility of the Kyiv Post and the Media Development Foundation and are independent of the views of USAID, the U.S. government and Internews.

Tymur Levchuk and Zoryan Kis got married on April 9 in Kyiv, after being in a relationship for four years. They’re the first gay couple to tie the knot in Ukraine, although their union is not legally recognized by the state.

But Levchuk and Kis weren’t prepared to wait for the state to recognize their relationship. So they organized a ceremony for themselves and their close friends and family.
“We decided that we’d register our marriage in Ukraine when it becomes possible,” Kis told the Kyiv Post.

Journalism of tolerance

Kis and Levchuk decided to marry about a year ago, as they sat on the bank of Synevyr Lake in Zakarpattya Oblast.

“It was a romantic evening,” said Kis. “I felt like we are alone in the world, so I proposed to Tymur, and he said yes.”

The official name for their wedding is a commitment ceremony. But someday their union will be recognized by Ukrainian society, Kis and Levchuk believe. Both are passionate activists who fight not only for equal rights for lesbian-gay-bisexual-transgender people, but also against discrimination in Ukraine.

“Activism and the Ukrainian language brought us together,” said Levchuk.
Levchuk works for the country’s biggest LGBT organization, Tochka Opory (Fulcrum), while Kis is an activist with the Freedom House international human rights organization. Kis lobbied for the inclusion of the civil partnership amendment in the new State Human Rights Strategy, which was approved by the president in August 2015.

The aim of the amendment is to protect the rights of people in relationships who can’t marry legally.
“I did it so that we could tie the knot,” said Kis.

The partnership amendment doesn’t oblige the Ukrainian authorities to legalize same-sex marriages in Ukraine in the near future. But it is a first step to equal rights for gay couples.

Homophobia is still widespread in Ukraine. Human Rights Ombudswoman Valeria Lutkovska told the Kyiv Post that Ukrainians are still not ready to recognize equal rights for all citizens.

“We’re just not ready to coexist with LGBT people, people with special needs, or even other nationalities,” said Lutkovska. “Ukrainians have declared their support for tolerance, and their choice of European values. But we still don’t want to include our minorities.”

The reaction of Ukrainian society when sexual minorities promote their rights is depressingly predictable and violent.

Anti-gay radicals caused the cancellation of the recent Equality Festival on March 19, which sought to promote the rights of minorities in Lviv, the main city in the country’s western region, 540 kilometers from Kyiv. Radicals hounded festival attendees at the hotel venue, and beat up at least five of them.

No one was arrested by police.

The Pride walk in Kyiv last year also ended in violence. A group of right-wing activists broke through the police cordon and threw smoke grenades and fire crackers at the participants. Two police officers were injured.
Despite living in such an unfriendly environment, Levchuk and Kis are happy together. The activists claim that in general, Ukrainian society is not homophobic.
“Aggression and intolerance are the choice of a small, but active group of people,” said Levchuk.
“This will sound strange, but their violence against us works in our favor,” he said. “The public doesn’t like LGBT people, but they usually hate violence more. So we find more and more supporters after these attacks.”

Love story

Levchuk’s and Kis’s relationships began with a box of colored markers. The two young, bearded men met more than four years ago during a discussion about LGBT rights in Kyiv. The two were drawn together because they were the only ones who spoke Ukrainian. After that, they chatted on Facebook for six months.

“One day Tymur wrote to me that during preparations for yet another protest, he discovered that all of his markers were broken, so he couldn’t draw a protest placard. So I decided to buy a big box of markers for him as a present,” recalled Kis.

“Later we discovered that not a single marker worked. But the gesture was still charming,” added Levchuk.

The couple said they were lucky to live in Kyiv, as it is a big city where no one knows about your sexuality, and no one actually cares. Their circle of friends consists of activists and artists, so they found only support among friends and colleagues.

However, their parents were not so accepting. Kis, who moved to Kyiv from Lviv 11 years ago, said that Lviv is a conservative and old-fashioned city. So it was rather hard for his mother to accept his homosexuality.
“In fact, she has also has to ‘come out,’ as I did. And she was really afraid that as soon as she did that, people could stop speaking to her, in shops and in the streets,” said Kis.

His father’s reaction was more philosophical. He had known his son was gay for a few years.

“He blames himself for my sexuality. His friend told him about me being gay when I was a teenager. He said: ‘You should pay more attention to your son, because he will become gay,’” recalled Kis.
Levchuk’s situation is slightly better: All his relatives know about his sexual orientation, although they are not ready to talk about it.

“They don’t talk about it, but always ask me to say ‘hello’ to Zoryan,” said Levchuk.

Learning self-defense

Kis and Levchuk say no matter what happens, they will continue to fight for their rights — and not only in words. After suffering several violent attacks, they decided to learn how to defend themselves physically.

Kis studied boxing. For someone who had never hurt a fly, his first training session was a shock.

“When my trainer first hit me on the nose I went to the toilet and started crying,” said Kis. “It wasn’t because of the pain, but because violence is so senseless. It was even harder to hit him back at first. But now I’m over those problems.”

Levchuk said his fellow activists have launched self-defense training sessions for the LGBT community. “We don’t teach them to attack first, but how to counter aggression and be prepared for it in future,” said Levchuk.