The notarial agreement did not help. "After Ewa's death, I felt punished by my country."

Why do queer couples need civil partnerships? "Just go to a notary" – suggests Polish right-wing politics to LGBT+ couples. The narrative is contradicted by what happened after the tragic death of Ewa, with whom Ania lived for 19 years.

– To secure our future, a year before the accident, we did everything our state allowed us to do, used every available tool – declares Ania. – The only thing is, none of them worked. Poland took away my property and the right to grieve. Instead, I have to fend off attacks and fight in court for what we built together.

First Love

They met Ewa in the university library in Katowice, where Ania, then a student of Germanic philology, was brought from Krakow in search of materials for a term paper. She immediately noticed Ewa; it was enough that they looked at each other. She knows it sounds banal, but she fell in love exactly with her eyes. – They held curiosity, but also sadness; there was something mysterious in them, some misfortune.

– It was my first love, the first woman I connected with emotionally, physically, and romantically. Everything first, I experienced exactly with her – recalls Ania. – I was also her first love, although before me she had dated another girl. The only difference was that that relationship ended due to parental blackmail.

In Fear of Hate

Hate, Ania notes, has always accompanied them. – Throughout 19 years of living together, we never held hands in Poland, never kissed in public. We were too afraid.

Their fears were not unfounded; when they came of age around the turn of the millennium, Poland was just beginning to mature towards equality. Only 5 percent of Poles considered homosexuality normal; more than half declared that society should not accept same-sex relationships; the same number opposed (in large cities) equality marches, which were regularly met with eggs, bottles, and stones.

– That’s why we didn’t "wear" our relationship openly – says Ania – and that’s why, during the first year, when we still lived long-distance, we met secretly. Traveling between Krakow and Katowice, we stopped in small cafes or went for walks in parks and along boulevards by the Vistula River.

Only later did she understand where the fear came from, which she saw in her partner’s eyes during their first meeting in the university library. Ewa still depended financially on her parents, and when her mother (an educated woman, dedicated to local education) found out her daughter was a lesbian – her first instinct was to send her for "treatment". But since that didn’t work, she resorted to threats. She threatened that if Ewa didn’t break up, she would tell her parents about her, the girl’s current partner. And since her mother came from a Catholic family, was active in church, and even belonged to an oasis community – Ewa’s mother got her way.

In their third year of studies, Ania started working part-time at a primary school in Krakow, then picked up a few hours at a nearby middle school. She also kept her privacy – because, as everyone knows, gossip spreads in the classroom, and even more so in the teachers’ lounge. – We lived under constant pressure that someone would discover us, I would be fired, and Ewa would again experience hell at home.

A Little Breathing Room

They relaxed a bit when they rented their own place in Krakow. It was noisy (they lived in the lively Kazimierz district), cramped (a studio, 19 square meters), and empty (they had to move furniture from their previous apartments). Despite the noise outside, they slept peacefully because they finally stopped being afraid – It was a wonderful time. We could finally be ourselves every day, discover how we function together in everyday life, learn to live together – recalls Ania.

After a year, they moved to a quieter neighborhood and a slightly larger apartment (27 meters), then bought a shared property. Ewa worked in a small family business, and Ania switched to a sole proprietorship. She organized training for companies and worked as a translator, while Ewa learned basic accounting to help her run the business. After a few years, they saved enough for a house they built in a small municipality on the outskirts of Krakow.

Paternal Indifference

Meanwhile, Ewa’s parents were having a hard time. First, it turned out that her father had a second life with a mistress, and later that she probably gave birth to a son (whom he disowned). Despite this, her mother couldn’t divorce him, and he was reluctant to end the marriage. – He lived in two houses but stayed with his wife for the property – assesses Ania today.

In 2014, Ewa’s mother received a diagnosis: malignant lung cancer with metastases to other organs. She underwent chemotherapy and radiation, assuring her daughter that everything was fine with her. That Ewa’s mother was in the final stage of the disease was only discovered in March 2015, by accident, when they found her hidden medical documentation.

– We were worried because Ewa’s mother had lost a lot of weight and stopped walking, but we only learned about metastases to the bronchi, bones, skin, and brain then – says Ania. – Ewa’s mother no longer wanted treatment. At that stage, she simply lost faith in life.

Three months later, Ewa’s mother died.

Ewa took her death very hard, because although they had their ups and downs, over time they became close again, and she also convinced Ania. – We never openly talked about what connects me with her daughter, but she was proud that Ewa was with me – says Ania. – She liked me very much, and she also helped me in my teaching career. She always checked the documents I had to submit, advised me on internships.

What about Ewa’s father? – He belittled her and mocked her since childhood – accuses Ania. – When she was little, he never cared for her, praised her, or hugged her. Instead, he constantly reminded her of how much toys and food cost. When she grew up, he called her “crazy girl,” “wacko,” and “old maid,” demonstratively proud of his nephews. He emphasized that, unlike them, he and his wife created “normal” families.

Ewa maintained a proper, formal relationship with her father. She showed him respect because he was her parent, but she treated him with reserve. At first, Ania tried to mediate their contact, but then he also started mocking her – ridiculing her for working in a school for a meager salary, and for her parents driving a cheap car.

Ewa’s father liked money. Even before his wife’s death, he bought a two-room apartment and a new, larger car with their joint savings. – When we sought help, when I wrote to several German clinics, everywhere he said he wouldn’t throw money away because there was no hope for his wife. He buried her even before she died.

When she died, he immediately got rid of all her mementos. The girls found a gold medal for educational achievements in the trash, and the jewelry of the deceased disappeared under mysterious circumstances and was never found. Not even a month after her funeral, he already had a preliminary sales agreement for their family house.

– Ewa then hated him. She said she didn’t want anything to do with him, that nothing would change his mind. That money would always be the most important to him. She even tried to change her surname to mine because she didn’t want anything to connect her with her father. Especially since, when Ewa’s grandfather died in 2021, the same scenario repeated: her father emptied her father-in-law’s account and sold everything that belonged to him.

After the tragic death of her daughter, he behaved exactly the same way.

The Last Journey

When the girls built their own house, they started traveling. Portugal probably captivated them the most.

– We were struck by the fact that when we walked hand in hand – even older people smiled at us. We felt that this was our place. That we could be free here.

They longed to explore the world on their own terms: wild, without flight reservations or rented apartments. When the pandemic confined them indoors, they started following channels on YouTube, where creators built camper vans themselves. That’s how the dream of their own house on wheels was born, which was realized with the help of a married couple of craftsmen from Warsaw.

At the beginning of 2023, they left everything behind: Ania suspended her business, Ewa resigned. First, they went on a three-month trip through beloved Portugal, which they explored thoroughly. Then they returned home briefly, repacked their backpacks, and went on a two-week tour of northwestern Germany! – That was our second camper trip. And the last – recalls Ania.

– On May 19, the day before my birthday, we arrived in Bremen. We stopped by a cemetery because we always visited cemeteries and churches during trips. We noticed that beautiful lilacs were growing there, my favorite flowers.

– In the morning, Ewa planned to bring me a bouquet, but she didn’t want to pick it from the burial site. She moved a bit further, where there was an old, quite steep descent to the lake. She slipped, tangled her leg in the wires, and fell. She hit her head on a piece of a tombstone – a remnant from a plot that used to stand there. She got up but fell onto the remains of the fence.

Ania found her thanks to a locator in her phone. She felt like she was in a trance. She remembers that two German women were rhythmically pressing Ewa’s chest and giving her commands: “einatmen!” (inhale). That they fought for her until the ambulance arrived, where Ewa was intubated and given adrenaline. She had her jacket torn, feathers flying out, and nearby, the lilacs she had placed on the grave were torn apart.

They managed to restore Ewa’s vital functions, but it was too late. In the hospital, brain death was confirmed.

For a Moment, They Were a Family

– I have never encountered such good, humane treatment as in that German hospital. When I told them who I was, I was treated as her partner, her wife; no one asked for any documents. The doctor consulted every step with me, asked for my consent. I was stunned by what should be normal but I had never experienced before. In Poland, we were strangers to each other; in Germany, they treated us like family.

– Ewa was still fighting for her life in the ICU, and I called her father. Immediately, questions about money started: did Ewa have loans, who owns the house, whose are the camper and the car? He was already thinking about how much her death would cost him – assesses Ania. – But I didn’t realize that then; I was sitting alone in the hospital, half-conscious from grief, under strong medication. I disconnected.

When he arrived, Ewa’s father immediately checked if there were any signs of hanging on his daughter’s neck. – Of course, he didn’t find any, but he then told the family that Ewa had committed suicide, and I pushed her to it. After returning to Poland, he even reported me to the prosecutor’s office, where I testified about improper first aid and incitement to suicide. However, the prosecutor found no involvement of third parties and closed the case.

When I ask where such a reaction comes from, Ania explains that in Ewa’s will, she was named the sole heir, and her father was disinherited. He knew well that the only way to challenge the inheritance would be to convict her partner with a criminal sentence.

– That’s when I realized Ewa was right. Her father is a monster.

Sawicki Hinders Human Decency

Ahead of the parliamentary elections, KO took up the cause of partnerships, promising their enactment in “100 specifics in the first 100 days”. However, the legislative process took much longer, totaling 926 days from the government’s swearing-in. Moreover, the bill reached the president’s desk in a trimmed version; it removed not only the civil registry ceremony and the possibility of changing surnames but even the name “partnership”.

It is no secret that the main obstacle was primarily PSL, especially the influential MP Marek Sawicki, who explained to Radio ZET: “Citizens of the same sex, if they want to have medical information, inheritance rights, all can be included in a notarial deed. It will be just as valid as a partnership. What’s the difference between a notarial act and a civil marriage? Both are similar in cost.”

Ania admits she was influenced by this narrative herself. – Many people in the community believe that notarial documents are a provisional act of marriage, but the right-wing advice can be dismissed – she says.

If Poland had given them such an option, Ania and Ewa would have entered into a partnership. But they couldn’t do that, so a year before the tragedy, they secured themselves with a notary: they signed extended powers of attorney and a partnership agreement. They also made wills.

– We treated these formalities like a “small wedding” – even exchanged rings in front of the notary – because we planned to have a real wedding in Portugal in 2024 – says Ania. – We spent 10,000 PLN on all this because we believed that these documents would protect us.

The first problem appeared during Ewa’s funeral. – Her father knew that his daughter was a declared atheist, but he refused a secular funeral. He said that in his family everyone is buried Catholic, and she would be too. He also insisted on a grave in Katowice, where her mother was already buried. Despite the notarized powers of attorney, it turned out that Ania had no say in the matter.

– I felt unwanted at her funeral – recalls Ania. – Ewa’s family asked what I was doing there at all? I was told I shouldn’t be there and that it was all my fault. That I “had no right” to this, “had no right” to that; I was only told “I had no right” the whole time. When she visited the grave a week later, she found that someone had thrown away the wreath she had laid there.

Court and Office Know Their Place

It didn’t take long before Ewa’s father started calling her “about formalities,” to “sort things out”. Ania didn’t understand what “formalities” he was talking about or what exactly needed to be “sorted out,” but – as the old saying goes – when you don’t know what it’s about, it’s about money.

Soon, a lawyer appeared who, on behalf of Ewa’s father, filed for the payment of a “legitimate share” – an archaic institution from the Napoleonic code, under which omitted family members in a will can demand a part of the inheritance from the rightful heir. The lawyer threatened that if Ania didn’t pay his client 300,000 PLN, he would take his claims to court. Ewa’s father didn’t wait for a response, filed the case in October 2023, even before the daughter’s will was opened in court.

This last effort was in vain, as was the testimony of eleven witnesses – Ania lost the case in the district court. She claims it was for non-substantive reasons: the judge was allegedly very negative towards same-sex relationships. – She laughed when Ewa’s father’s lawyer mocked that we weren’t discriminated against in Poland because no one chased us with a baseball bat.

In Ewa’s will, she disinherited her father because he “acted contrary to the principles of social coexistence,” “persistently neglected family duties, showed no interest in her fate and health,” and “did not attempt to repair his mistakes,” resulting in “a complete emotional disconnection” between them. The judge, however, blamed Ewa for the breakdown of their relationship – because, as the younger person, she should have reached out to her parent. When awarding the inheritance, she also pointed out that there was no physical violence between Ewa and her father. Ania appealed this ruling and is awaiting the appellate court’s decision.

Meanwhile, she was hit with over 200,000 PLN in inheritance tax. – I fell into the third tax bracket, as if I were a stranger. Since I couldn’t pay this amount in full, it was divided into installments. But in the process, it increased by 20,000 PLN in prolongation fees.

– The Tax Office claims I gained from Ewa’s death. It’s just that I didn’t inherit her money, but our joint property, which we worked on together for over a dozen years! – protests Ania. – Although I paid taxes regularly in Poland (I was never in arrears!), and as a citizen, I obeyed the law and voted in every election, after Ewa’s death I felt punished by my country.

She is also fighting a separate battle before the Sanepid (Sanitary Inspection), to which she applied for the exhumation of the urn with her partner’s ashes. Although she fulfilled all formalities and even purchased a plot at a nearby cemetery, she was refused. She would like to have Ewa closer because she takes care of the grave; her father never visits it.

Unlawful Relationship

In the preamble to the notarial agreement – called by Ewa and Ania “a partnership agreement” – it reads: “Convinced that we do not harm anyone or violate anyone’s freedom, we appeal to our family members, friends, and loved ones […], courts and institutions responsible for making and enforcing the law, and to all people of good will, to respect the provisions of our agreement.”

The point – explains Ania’s lawyer, Karolina Gierdal – is that their decisions remain “an appeal” dependent on the “good will” of third parties. – Take the issue of burial. Who decides about it is not the will, but the law on cemeteries and the burial of the deceased, which grants such rights only to spouses and relatives. And Ewa’s closest relative was her father.

The second lawyer, Marek Urbaniak, adds: spouses belong to the first tax group (pay 3% inheritance tax or are completely exempt), but Ania falls into the third tax group (which applies a 20% rate). – In practical interpretation, people like her are called: “strangers to the deceased.” Tax authorities and administrative courts consistently treat informal partners this way.

However, while a woman and a man can marry in Poland, a same-sex couple cannot. – During the trial, we argued that in this situation, a notarial agreement should be treated the same as entering into a marriage. But the tax office and the Voivodeship Administrative Court took the position that they cannot independently expand the scope of tax exemptions because it is regulated by law, and the Supreme Administrative Court agreed. We plan to file a complaint with the European Court of Human Rights.

– Also, regarding the inheritance, Polish law sided with the father, with whom Ewa had no contact and did not want a relationship due to his attitude and harmful behaviors she experienced from him – summarizes Gierdal sadly. – It’s hard to find a more blatant example of systemic discrimination. After all, if Ania and Ewa could marry in Poland, their situation would be completely different. But they couldn’t do that solely because of their sexual orientation.

Stolen Grief

Ania didn’t have the strength for all this. She has two suicide attempts behind her. – After Ewa’s death, I didn’t want to live anymore. I couldn’t live without her – she now says.

Depression forced her to close her business because how could she run it when she couldn’t even get out of bed for a long time? Serious health problems also appeared along the way. – Battles with Ewa’s father, courts, and offices simply crushed me. I developed a strong, post-traumatic neurosis, insomnia, and started losing weight. Then came heart and blood problems.

Although more than three years have passed, she still drives 100 km weekly from Krakow to Katowice, where Ewa was buried. Her shoes are still in their house, her clothes still hang in the wardrobe, and her cosmetics she used are still in the bathroom. On the shelf, she keeps their last joint photograph. Ewa is smiling in it, believing that many adventures still await them.

– I want to move on. I know Ewa would want me to find happiness in life… But this constant fight makes it hard to close this chapter – concludes Ania. But she assures: she will not give up the fight for her country to see more than just a friendly relationship in her partnership. – I do it for Ewa. I know she would do the same for me.

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The names of the protagonists have been changed.

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Mateusz Witczak – reporter, journalist, graduate of political science at Jagiellonian University. Writes about digital culture, LGBT people, women’s and disability rights, collaborates with “Polityka,” “Gazeta Wyborcza,” and Dwutygodnik.

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