Giorgi Kikonishvili

Anton: Thanks for the hospitality
Giorgi: My pleasure.
Ugh. Georgian food is so good! It’s a shame it doesn’t get enough recognition as a world-class cuisine.
I like it. No, I love it! Obviously. But I’m really bad at cooking it myself.
So your next boyfriend shouldn’t expect you to make them dinner?
I can help with prepping! Actually, I find it romantic when two guys cook together.
Totally. So now to the important stuff. I’m really impressed by the number of organizations and projects that you’re involved in. I get the feeling you have 36 hours in your day.
I’m just glad that I don’t have a 9 to 5.
Where do you get all this energy from?
Honestly, it’s a feedback loop from all the activism. If you look around your surroundings and notice injustice, you start imagining all the ways to make it better — for yourself, for friends, for family, for society. It’s energizing.
I can imagine that this new anti-LGBT legislation being considered by the Georgian government is a huge cause for concern. Can you tell me about it?
We’re at a very crucial moment in Georgian history. A copy-paste of the 2013 Russian anti-gay “propaganda” law is being pushed through Parliament. Everyone feels really confused. Something is happening that we never thought possible. They want to criminalize everything that promotes same-sex relations.
What does it actually prohibit?
According to the law, any mention of LGBT issues in public — in arts, media, books, theaters, universities, like ANYWHERE — is prohibited. It’s fascism.
What prompted you to get into gay activism?
It began with a search for like-minded people, tied to my coming out at around 22. The narrative in society was like, “Gays don’t exist in Georgia”. But I knew first-hand that it’s possible to be alive and gay in Georgia. That was enough for me. My first step was writing an article about homophobia in the first person for Liberali Magazine, where I worked at the time — it went viral. Later on, I co-founded an organization.
What’s the organization?
It’s called the Equality Movement and it’s the biggest LGBT organization in Georgia, and in the entire Caucasus.
What do you guys do?
Well, the Equality Movement offers legal aid and healthcare services to the queer community and beyond. Things like STD testing and healthcare for people with HIV.
What’s the most intense situation you’ve experienced in your time organizing?
Probably the drama of 17 May 2013. It was International Day Against Homophobia and we were attacked by a mob. Before the planned march through Tbilisi, the Patriarch of the Georgian Orthodox Church called homosexuality an insult to the country. Because of these comments 20,000 people held a violent protest against 50 of us.
Fuck. That’s really messed up.
The authorities set up barricades to separate us, but then, at the march, the police allowed the counter-protesters to cross the barriers to attack us. When chaos ensued, the same police officers escorted us away from the mob and onto these rusty yellow buses. We were evacuated. A miracle! That day is actually one of the most important in the history of independent Georgia because it marks the beginning of real mobilization against the oppression of the Church and the government against the community.
How so?
After seeing so many thousands of people rallying against us, we realized that we’re facing a deeply entrenched problem in our society. You can trace the birth of the Horoom Nights — the queer night at Bassiani — back to 17 May. We came to realize that NGO work is not enough. We needed to do things beyond activism, like nightlife, that will change the culture more broadly from its underground roots.
So would you say clubbing is part of your activism?
Totally! At Bassiani, I’m part of the team who creates the general policy of the club. I’m also the co-founder of two new queer parties — Hydrash and our bi-annual festival Wings of Desire.
How do you feel about all the European techno tourists coming to Georgia?
It makes me happy. People traveling to your country is a good sign. For a long time, Georgia was known abroad for, like, food. I was very bored with this image. Now we’re known for electronic music. But still, the club — Bassiani — is not Disneyland. It’s not a tourist attraction. The space is important to Georgians as a place for creating unity and the resistance to oppressive culture and political system.

It’s interesting how many Russians are in Tbilisi, especially given that Russia occupies part of the country. It’s pretty triggering for me, and not in a good way.
I can imagine.
Since the war in Ukraine began, thousands of Russians have fled to former Soviet countries, including
Georgia. How do you feel about it?
Yeah, their presence has changed the cultural landscape. Two weeks after the war started in Ukraine, Tbilisi completely changed. It was like we were living in Russia. I could hardly believe my eyes – and ears. A lot of Russians came here with the false expectation that they’d be immediately accepted into our society.
Do you fuck Russians?
I’ve had sex with Russians. Of course. I don’t put many controls or limits on my sex life. I totally follow my instincts, and do many things that I wouldn’t do in my normal everyday life.
Right. How have you been personally affected by Russia’s aggression?
When I was five years old, my father died in the war with Russia in Abkhazia.
That must’ve been tough.
Yes, but my mother really stepped up. She came to me and my brother and said, ‘Don’t worry, I’m going to be your mother, and also your father – I’ll do everything for you.’
And did she?
I mean, my mother is the one who gives me permission to do anything I wanted to do. When I was really young, I hated sports. I just wanted to play with dolls, so my mother bought me dolls. If anyone ever made fun of me, she’d put them in their place.
An ally!
Definitely. After the attacks on our march in 2013 she wrote a public letter. As the mother of a gay child, she encouraged parents to support and love their children no matter what. She’s an incredible woman.

Why did you decide to open a bar?
I love bars! And there aren’t many in Tbilisi where you can just sit, talk, listen to live music or poetry, or do a stand-up routine. So the idea was to create a space where artists, activists, poets and singers can gather.
Love it.
It’s been pretty smooth. We have an open-door policy. No security. And windows that open to the street.
Have you had issues?
One night we were hosting a stand-up comedy show. Two drunk guys came into the bar. They heard Nata Talikishvili, the comedian who hosts a trans monologue night, telling jokes and realized that they were in a queer space and started acting really aggressively.
Doesn’t sound good.
Nata warned them twice, ‘Leave the bar, or face the consequences.’ But the men ignored her. So Nata and several other trans women in the bar beat up the guys and used pepper spray. The men escaped and ended up calling the police.
Uh oh.
Yeah, it was the first time ever when the homophobes called the police. It’s usually the opposite. I just worry about the new law. I don’t know, maybe they’ll consider Klara an illegal public space.
Sorry, babe, but you have a couch in here that says, “Be gay — do crime”.
(laughs) In a way being gay is actually already a crime against social norms. And I enjoy being that kind of criminal.
It seems like queerness is in every detail at Klara. You even have cocktails dedicated to Rosalía and Sophie — actually, what’s in that one?
I was devastated when I heard about her death — she was one of my favorite artists. As a tribute, we made a cocktail called “It’s Okay To Cry”. It’s made with tequila and a lot of chili pepper.
She was the best. When it comes to her, I don’t need the pepper to cry. So do you have any big plans for Klara?
A wish of mine is to build a gay sauna beneath Klara. As you can guess, I’m in love with saunas. The image of queer men in saunas makes me happy, and how could it not? One of my favorite things is to play around in a warm pool surrounded by other naked guys.
It’d be the first gay sauna in Tbilisi?
Yes, in a way. I mean, we have an established culture of bathhouses in Tbilisi since the founding of the city. Most of them are in the historic part of the city and have been cruising areas for men for centuries. Well, maybe not specifically for sex, but definitely for…arousal.
Oh? Sounds fun.
Right? There is one cruisy bathhouse and it’s super trashy and in need of a renovation, but it’s still amazing. It’s mostly popular among older guys, like eighty-somethings, and they’re walking around with these very frightened eyes. It’s like an archive of Tbilisi gay life.

What kind of orgies do you like?
I prefer the ones at home, with a lot of drugs. Ones that go on for a long time. Not too crowded either because I prefer when everyone knows each other. Max six people. I like the feeling that everyone is connected.
How would you describe your ideal set-up?
I went to a perfect one a few months ago. It wasn’t longer than 24 hours. We spent time chilling in towels, smoking cigarettes, taking showers, talking, and then fucking again. At some point it got really wild. With orgies, I totally love how your body is stimulated when so many different people touch you, when you get lost in it, when you don’t understand who’s doing what. Sometimes you also watch it from the side-lines. Sex can be so beautiful, you know — smoking cigarettes and just enjoying the view.
Are you more of an exhibitionist or voyeur?
Actually, I am both. But I definitely enjoy looking.
Is there a lot of cruising in Tbilisi?
Of course there are cruising places. We call them “pleshkas” or fag joints. When I started cruising, there were a lot of guys doing it, fucking in bushes like animals.
Mhm. Do you watch porn with sound or without sound?
Depends on the porn. Sometimes the moaning is so artificial and I’ll just play some music over it.
Some good old ABBA? “Mamma mia, here we go again…”
(pours water on coals)
I read about your book project on the history of Georgian queer art, ‘Blue — Queer Story in Georgian Art’. What was your role?
I was a member of the editorial board and the creative collective I co-founded, Spectrum, is the publisher. The book is a survey of queer art from the beginning of the twentieth century until now. It’s incredible to see all the clearly queer narratives found in Georgian art.
Do you have a favorite era in the book?
The beginning of the twentieth century, for sure. This was a three-year period from 1918 until 1921 when Georgia was independent from the Russian Empire. It was a brief era defined by total artistic freedom, with super queer artworks produced — picture paintings with androgynous angels with beards and vaginas flying in the sky.
Love that. I need a copy. It’s only available in Georgian?
Yeah, but we’ll translate it to English soon. We named it ‘Blue’ because in Georgian, the word “blue” is a slur for gay.
Ha! We have the same word in Ukrainian.
The term comes from Soviet times, and the root is related to the word “pigeon”.
That’s probably it. Tell me more about your other initiatives.
I also have a project called Muzame. It’s a music series that platforms queer and women musicians. One of the first performers we invited over in 2016 was Genesis P-Orridge, who was the founder of Throbbing Gristle and Psychic TV.
Wow. You really do everything.
Yeah. (laughs) Now that I think about it, I’ve been part of just about every major movement and queer organization for the past 20 years. One of my first steps as an activist was the White Noise Movement.
What’s that?
It started as a campaign against Georgian anti-drug laws.
Yes, I’ve heard that there are no drugs in Georgia…
…and gays don’t exist in Georgia.
(both laugh)
Our drug policy was one of the harshest in the world. Smoking weed is totally fine now that it’s been decriminalized, but not long ago, the punishment was, like, eight to 20 years in prison.
Talk about hardcore.
I got involved because a friend of ours was arrested for weed and we wanted to help him any way we could. The White Noise Movement was able to reach a point where we actually wrote new legislation. And in the end, a new law was adopted and hundreds, if not the 1000s, of people were released from prison. And best of all — our friend never went to jail.
I love your activism. It all started with the need to get high and fuck.
You know, I always say that whatever people say about gays is true. (both laugh) My natural reaction to injustice is to fight back. Plus, there’s something great about like-minded people helping each other and building community.

WTF happened with the law?
It’s really hard to describe how it feels to witness this law being adopted. Even flying the rainbow flag could be a crime, let alone things like gender-affirming healthcare for trans people. It feels like there’s nothing left, nothing left at all. The law was adopted by Parliament after the third reading. The President of Georgia says she won’t sign the legislation, but unfortunately, the ruling Georgian Dream coalition has enough seats to make it law.
How do you transfer this anger into action with just one month before the Parliamentary elections?
People are mobilized. People who’ve never voted before — especially the younger generations — are ready and armed to vote for a change of government. We’re also going to campaign from Bassiani too.
I was saddened to hear about the trans model, Kesaria Abramidze, being murdered the day after the law was passed.
I just came back from her funeral.
Aw, babe. How did it go?
Many people attended. And not only from the community, but ordinary citizens, even the President. The funeral was full of, like, grandmothers, entire families and even children that didn’t know her. Everyone loved Keso, even the homophobes, believe it or not. One of my friends told me that she took a taxi to the funeral, the driver asked who had passed and then later on she saw her in attendance. I’ve never seen the entirety of Georgia mourn the death of a queer person before. It felt like catharsis.
Did they catch the killer?
Yeah, he’s been arrested. I really hope that he’ll get severe punishment, but I can’t imagine that he will.
Do you think the law passing had anything to do with it?
I’ve seen a lot of commentary about it. No one is sure. But what is certain is that this law opens the door for more hatred.
What’s your plan if things get much worse after the elections?
I’m certain there’s going to be a fight. People are angry about everything that’s happening in the country. This anger connects people across social lines — from queers to factory workers. In Georgia we have quite a history of revolutions, but I’d love to see the elections bring about a peaceful change. The country needs it.
There is no, like, plan B for you?
What’s clear is that if the anti-Western, pro-Russia party, Georgian Dream, stays in power, then Georgia, as we know it, will be gone for some time. And the government will become even more oppressive. Maybe they’ll say that a queer club night is LGBT propaganda. But honestly, I don’t see this happening.
It’s like right before Russia’s full-scale invasion in Ukraine. Days before, everyone said it wasn’t going to happen.
I’m choosing to be optimistic. There is no future where we lose this fight.