Why are there so many cis men in a lesbian festival?

This question, written in marker on a bathroom wall, sparked a lot of discussion—conversations continued in smaller circles, at the festival's closing, and still go on. We, the festival team, also discussed it, so we’d like to share our answer and our position now.

The short answer – because Sapfo Fest is a queer feminist, not (just) a lesbian festival. But we invite you to read the longer answer, which explains why, and what that means.

Lesbian, gay, bi, trans, ace—our identities, who we are, connect us not because we are so similar (try finding similarities between a gay guy from Vilnius you meet in Soho and a lesbian activist), but because of shared experiences—we endure similar harm and fight the same enemies. Those who attack “LGBT ideology” don’t add a footnote at the end of their texts saying “except lesbians/gays/trans/etc.” If not for bathroom questions, they wouldn’t even bother figuring out which of us are girls and which are boys—everyone’s propaganda, everyone’s a freak.
And who draws the lines? We do. We divide ourselves into identities, searching for ourselves among 72 genders and countless flags (Wikipedia alone lists over 50 different LGBTQ+ flags). Because you have to start somewhere—and it’s easiest to start with what you know: yourself, your dignity, your visibility, your needs, and others like you. When there’s so much lack, similarity unites, and shared experience and tangible, concrete goals—however modest—feel real and achievable. Identifying by identity helps us feel seen, to share experiences and support, to survive when broader unity is too dangerous or complicated.

In a world where some of us don’t exist at all, and others are seen as propaganda, identity grounds us—knowing you’re LGBTQ+ and not weird, abnormal, or unworthy of love can save a life. No surprise we protect our identity and are ready to defend it tooth and nail. We protect ourselves not only from actual attacks but from potential and past ones too. We’re cautious even with identities that might harm us—like not all snakes are venomous, but best to watch out for all of them.

But does an identity born out of lack inspire dreams beyond the absence of lack?
In a folk tale, a shepherd is asked: "What would you do if you were a lord?" He replies, “I’d herd while riding and always have bacon.” His dream is shaped by his needs and what would make his daily life easier. He doesn’t dream beyond the pasture; he doesn’t dream of being a nobleman, let alone a world where everyone lives like nobles.

But we dream.

A Ukrainian friend once said at the beginning of the war: he dreams of not seeing Ukrainian flags in Lithuania, only in Ukraine, at national institutions—where they belong. Anywhere else, they signal misfortune, crisis, war.

We dream of a world where we don’t need to see rainbow flags. We dream of not being in a constant state of crisis, struggling to survive. Even more, we dream of a world without separate flags: gay, lesbian, trans, bi, ace, and the many combinations only the most disciplined Berlin activists can decode. Because those flags signify separate fights for visibility and survival—fights that separate one group from another, based on identity. We dream of a world where that separation is unnecessary.

Sapfo Festival is a collective invitation to create and experience that utopia. To dream not just of having basic needs met for ourselves and our own flag combination—but of the world as it could be: accessible, safe, and free for everyone, regardless of financial status, disability, identity, or anything else we don’t choose. This weekend utopia is created by people who believe in it, and most of them work for it every day—organising events, building communities, protesting, helping those most in need, writing, making art, building stages, and cooking food. Often unpaid, not counting hours, not chasing recognition. All these people are guided by feminist values. Most of them are queer women, but there are also men, non-binary people, cis, trans, straight, gay, bi, ace, neurotypical and neurodivergent, vegetarians and omnivores, tall, short, fat—people of every kind. They are united by a common goal and the effort they put into it. They are united by what we do, not just who we are. So, Sapfo invites everyone to, at least for one weekend a year, allow yourself to dream of utopia. Not by focusing on our differences in identity, but by seeing our common goals—the utopia we’re building together. Lesbian is an identity—dear, close, and part of us. But feminist and queer is a politics, a uniting idea. So, why are there so many cis men at a queer feminist festival? Because some of them see equal LGBTQ+ rights and opportunities as a non-negotiable part of the utopia they are helping build with us. They understand their position, they are open to learning from the queer community (and others experiencing marginalisation). Through their work, they contribute to organising Kaunas and Vilnius Prides, help build the infrastructure we use during the festival, create LGBTQ+-friendly spaces and events, raise funds for queer initiatives—and do it without forcing their way onto the stage.
It’s what we do, not what we are, that connects us with these people. And we, the Sapfo team, believe that shared goals and the labor to achieve them matters more than an identity which, if unexamined, may divide instead of unite.

We don’t speak for everyone who attends the festival—none of us grew up or live in a utopia. We’re all learning how to create a space that’s safe, meaningful, and accessible—through trial and error. That’s why we put great emphasis on festival guidelines—understanding and upholding them. We invite everyone to support the survival of the festival, suggest program ideas, and engage in open discussion. At the beginning of the festival, we stand in front of you all with an invitation: come talk to us, let us know if something uncomfortable happens or you feel unsafe—we reserve the right to ask those responsible to leave.

But we don’t divide people by identity. We welcome everyone who comes to Sapfo with openness, understands and reflects on their privilege and position, agrees to follow the festival’s principles, and respects the space and the people in it—especially those who help build the festival.

That’s what we want to offer the person who started this discussion. We invite you to join the Sapfo volunteer group and be part of the process of creating next year’s festival starting this fall. Spend evenings in online meetings, building budgets, planning, curating the program—then building stages, painting signs, and picking up trash.

By working together, not anonymously posting on bathroom walls, we’ll find the answers to the questions that matter to our community.

We dream not only of the absence of hate and the bare minimum of rights—but of the maximum plan. What kind of world would we like to live in? What would a queer utopia look like?
Would there be cis men in this utopia? Lesbians? Gays? Would there be Pride? Would rainbow flags fly?