Doberman – 2 years. Two years that shouldn't have happened

Today Doberman.media celebrates its 2nd anniversary 🎉🥳🎊

Doberman wasn’t planned. It’s important to say this right away—honestly, without any fancy story about a mission or calling. There wasn’t a moment when I sat down and decided, “I’m going to start a Russian-language gay media outlet.” It started as something small, almost accidental. A project that was supposed to stay just a project. A page, a post, then another post.

And then—two years.

I still don't fully understand how it happened.

The First Year: Euphoria and the First Bills

When something starts by chance—at first, it actually helps. There’s no pressure from expectations, no business plan you have to follow. There’s just the text you’ve written and the people who read it.

Readers showed up faster than I expected. And it was—I’m not exaggerating—overwhelming. Not in terms of numbers. I mean the way people responded. That they recognized themselves in it. That it was important to them to know that this conversation even existed—in Russian, without condescension, without rose-colored glasses.

And then the first bills arrived. Web hosting. Domain registration. Time that costs money, even if you don't pay yourself.

And the first real question that has stayed with me ever since: Where does the money come from?

The hardest part—and I'll say this straight out—

There was no funding. Ever.

Not in the sense of “not much”—but in the sense of “practically zero.” Grant applications were rejected. Donations were rare and small. Advertising in our niche is a pipe dream. I did this alongside another job, then a third, then another one after that.

There’s a particular kind of fatigue that builds up not from the amount of work, but from constantly having to answer the question “why.” Not from others—but from yourself. At 2 a.m., when you’re writing a piece that no one has commissioned or will pay for, or making new changes to the website’s code, or coming up with a new service. At the moment when yet another grant goes to a publication with a better portfolio, a stronger track record, and a more polished application.

What's the point of that, anyway?

I didn't always find the answer. To be honest, sometimes I didn't find it at all.

But I kept going. Not out of heroism. More out of inertia, which at some point becomes part of who you are. Doberman had become part of who I am—and shutting it down would have felt somehow strange. Like stepping out of my own skin.

Two years without money isn't an achievement. It's a diagnosis of the system.

I'm proud that Doberman has been around for two years.

But I want to say something uncomfortable: the fact that independent queer media in Russian is surviving without funding isn’t a reason for an inspiring post. It’s a reason to be angry.

Because that means this kind of media is funded by someone’s personal time, health, and money earned from another job. That the kind of journalism people need—the kind they really need—I know that based on letters — is done in the gaps between everything else.

This is not a sustainable model. It is a heroic act that should not be required.

What Survived

What mattered most survived.

Two years isn't long, but for an independent Russian-language queer media outlet without systematic funding, blocked in Russia by Roskomnadzor, operating out of Vilnius for an audience scattered across twenty countries—two years is a very long time.

We're still here. Today marks our second anniversary. The website is up and running. We're publishing articles.

No one guaranteed that. It wasn't part of the plan—because there was no plan. It just happened, it's still happening, and—I really want to believe—it will continue.

To you, whoever is reading this right now

If you read Doberman, you're part of the reason it exists.

Not metaphorically. Literally. Every read, every message, every donation—even a small one, even a one-time donation—is what keeps this going.

I don't need fancy words to celebrate my birthday. I just want Doberman to still be here a year from now. And for many years to come.

If you want this as much as I do— You know what to do.

Happy birthday, Doberman. Two years that weren't supposed to happen. But they did.

Vilnius, June 15, 2026