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Cruising: A queer utopia

Once, when Orlando and I were lounging on a plum bush, his sombrero fell off. I grabbed the hat, ran away and hid behind a plant in a secluded spot. He understood exactly what I wanted; we pulled down our trousers and began to masturbate.

(Reinaldo Arenas: Before night falls)

Cruising as a queer place of longing - a utopia beyond the norm emerges between nature, lust and gazes.

Naked in the forest - and not alone

The path in the Grunewald forest is a winding labyrinth, as if created by human hands. Or rather: by human feet. Only my footsteps can be heard, an occasional bird call. The temperature is pleasant on this afternoon in late May. Apart from my trainers, I am naked. I catch a glimpse of a man, also naked, leaning against a tree. Another man is kneeling in front of him and sucking his cock. The man looks at me impassively, but I lower my gaze. Every fibre in my body pulls me towards the scene, but another impulse in me is stronger and I keep walking.

From writing to self-experimentation

When I was asked to write a text about cruising locations, my first thought was: I don't have much experience with cruising. So I set off in search of clues, read texts, asked friends, rummaged through my memories and conducted a self-experiment in Grunewald.

I remember last summer when I went to the somewhat secluded caves on the gay beach in Sitges with my partner. I remember how exciting it was to discover this place with him. How we first made out in pairs, and later with a whole group of boys. How I seemed to be completely at peace with myself, my knees chafed by the sand, lapped by the regular waves of the Mediterranean.

Cruising, writes Henry Hagemann in his historical search for clues Cruising locationsis a historically evolved practice in which gay men and queer people seek quick intimacy in semi-public spaces with the help of codes and non-verbal communication.

On the one hand, the anonymity of cruising offers protection from criminal and social discrimination, while on the other, the potential danger of being caught is associated with thrills and excitement, which further fuels sexual desire.

Cruising: between art and eye contact

I step back into the clearing in the Grunewald forest, where a friend of mine is looking after our things. "So?" I shake my head. We continue talking about the "imperfect art" of cruising, as Mexican activist and author Leo Herrera calls it. "Pretend you're in a museum. You are either the art or the viewer," writes Herrera in his (analogue) Cruising Manual. My friend describes it like this:

"If you see someone you find attractive, you look them in the eye, if not, you avoid eye contact." I remember so many moments in my life when I averted my eyes although or just because I found someone attractive. Naively, I ask if smiling is allowed when cruising. "You can if you want to be cute - but usually you just grab your crotch. When you're both doing it, you get down to business." Herrera writes of a "smirk", which can perhaps be translated as a "meaningful grin". Holding the gaze, a meaningful grin, grabbing the cock... I feel completely untrained in this coded language, which is rather a coded silence that, according to Herrera, is intended to serve "both safety and fantasy".

It is precisely these fantasies that the cruisers I interviewed emphasise: "I have a certain fantasy and go on the hunt for someone who can play this role." Another friend I meet on the naturist meadow in Hasenheide tells me:

"Cruising is an exciting and surprising experience. Who's round the next corner? The daddy who's going down on me? The twink giving me a blow job?"

Cruising - wider than expected

I read that Charles Baudelaire and Oscar Wilde could be considered prominent first cruisers. The strolling of well-to-do men was not an uncommon sight in Victorian England. I remember being approached by a man while strolling the streets of Manhattan when I was 19 and then walking home with him. The same thing happened to me again at 34, when I was in Madrid for the first time. Perhaps these were cruising experiences without me labelling them as such. Maybe my previous definition of cruising as anonymous sex in parks and "flaps" was a bit too narrow.

Public toilets, so-called flaps, are considered classic places for anonymous cruising.

Flaps, i.e. public toilets, are predestined for cruising: a potential sex partner's cock is inspected at the urinal. Most of the friends I talk to about cruising are not fans of toilet sex - they say it's a less personal encounter than in the great outdoors. But flaps and motorway service stations offer greater anonymity for cruisers who are not out or gay - in contrast to gay bars, pubs and saunas, for example, whose often labyrinthine layout is reminiscent of the winding paths in parks and forests.

Cruising - instinct or coincidence?

I realise that I have found myself at cruising locations again and again throughout my life. Did this happen by chance? Or because of an innate "gay instinct"? I've always liked lying naked on the Werdinsel in Zurich or in the Hasenheide in Berlin, usually engrossed in a book. When I think of One hundred years of lonelinessI think of the nudist beach at Müggelsee at the same time. How many interested and interesting men must have walked past my naked bum while I - apparently or actually - only had eyes for Aureliano Buendía, the introverted protagonist of the novel?

The connection between nature and gay sex has a long tradition: Reinaldo Arenas - Cuban writer and dissident - instinctively knew during his first sexual experience in the early 1950s that what he wanted to do with his cousin Orlando had to take place in a secluded location. Cruising locations in nature are usually a little harder to get to - while the families with children, cars and a thousand things bustle on the beach next to the car park, the cruiser wanders further along the beach, possibly climbing over rocks and fighting his way through bushes until he reaches a lagoon with caves and crystal-clear water.

Cruising locations as shelters for queer freedom

Through the practice of cruising, cruisers appropriate less accessible places "in a spiritual way", as one friend puts it. In this way, cruising spaces become a queer utopia: places secluded from the judgemental outside world where we can enjoy our own and other people's bodies - our sexuality - without shame. Or, to paraphrase the Cuban-American theorist José Esteban Muñoz: Cruising as the cautious search for new forms of desire and life, for a better "there" as opposed to a standardised "here".

The fact that these utopian spaces can also exist in reality depends on a delicate balance between political decision-makers and the cruisers themselves. In Hasenheide, for example, large areas are currently cordoned off because new trees and grass are being planted. However, the naturist meadow, of all places, is not cordoned off. Apparently the political authorities here are concerned about preserving this space.

From shelter to target of repression

But this is not always the case: cruising areas are often deliberately destroyed by trimming bushes, for example, accompanied by sex-hostile and homophobic public discourse. Cruising areas have also been - and still are in many parts of the world - deliberately used by undercover police officers to criminalise homosexual acts. A good counter-example is the officially signposted cruising area in Amsterdam. Here, the cruisers in return ensure that cruising is limited to this specific area and does not get out of control.

I remember meeting a man on a lonely beach in Tarragona, Spain, two years ago - a man I had previously texted with on Grindr. I've always found it easier to get in touch with men online, even though as an Xennial I was still very familiar with a world without the internet. I usually met my first sexual contacts while dancing in gay clubs. The gay dance club and the dating app are also cruising rooms. However, the friend in Hasenheide doesn't think much of online cruising: "You can spend two hours on Grindr to - maybe - find the perfect guy. But I often have a higher success rate when cruising outside, and it's definitely more fun than chatting endlessly."

A walk into your own longing

During my self-experiment, I walk a second time through the labyrinthine bushes in Grunewald forest. It's now dusk, the air is cooler - and I don't meet anyone else. As I listen to my footsteps and the birds, I ask myself what's stopping me from going out cruising more, why I look for sex almost exclusively on apps. It probably also has to do with a certain performance anxiety, exacerbated by all the internalised images of gay porn.

Much of what I learnt about cruising during my research fascinates me: the outdoor sex, the openness to different bodies, the pursuit of fantasies, being surprised in the moment, the utopian nature of these places, the historical and spiritual connection to my queer ancestors, cruising as a rebellious alternative to homosexual lifestyles, which are becoming more and more like the heterosexual majority society. And perhaps this kind of cruising could even heal certain aspects of my sexuality - which is still shameful even after 30 years.

I step out of the forest into the clearing and decide to come here more often in future.

15 July 2025
From Protests to Profits: Is Pride Back at Square One?
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Illustration: Harjyot Khalsa, www.harjyotkhalsa.com
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As Pride celebrations grow and proliferate, they often become sites of controversy: What is being celebrated-the diversity of the community or just the visibility of a select few? Who gets to take part in this celebration, and who is left out or sidelined? From corporate sponsorships to grassroots protests, author Ahmed Awadalla examines the ever-evolving landscape of LGBTIQ+ Pride in Germany.

Berlin stands apart. If you ask someone in the city about attending a Pride event, they'll likely respond with another question: "Which one?" This is the essence of Berlin-a metropolis that hosts a multitude of queer marches and initiatives, each with its own distinct priorities and vision of the LGBTIQ+ experience. In a city this vast, with its diverse communities and subcultures, there's always a space where one can feel seen-or at least, it seems that way.

Having lived in Berlin for years, I've witnessed the Pride landscape shift and evolve, with each event embodying a different interpretation of queerness. What first stood out to me during my early summers in the city was the name "Christopher Street Day" (CSD)-a direct reference to the American Stonewall Riots. These riots erupted in response to persistent police harassment following a raid on a New York bar. Although a pivotal moment in queer history, the choice felt curious, if not a little dissonant, considering Germany's deep history of advocacy for queer rights.

Naturally, when I first arrived in Berlin, I was eager to join a queer march in the hope of finding community and connection. My first march wasn't a typical Pride event but a protest organised by Nasser Al-Ahmad, a young Lebanese man who faced brutal violence from his family after coming out. The march began outside a mosque in Neukölln to challenge the role of religious institutions in promoting homophobia. Despite Nasser's efforts to emphasise that homophobia wasn't just "a Muslim problem," media coverage framed the issue as a clash between queer and migrant communities, pitting them against each other.

As I marched, I quickly noticed how out of place I felt in the predominantly white crowd. At one point, a woman asked me to move aside, assuming I wasn't part of the protest, likely because of my appearance. This made me question my own belonging in a space that was supposed to be about solidarity and plurality. It highlighted the uncomfortable reality that even within queer spaces, not everyone feels welcomed or understood. Different people I spoke to had their own take on what Pride means to them. For some, it feels like home, while for others, it remains a space where their struggles are made invisible.

Between Celebration and Commercialisation

The first German CSD took place in Berlin in 1979, inspired by American Pride events but soon adapted to local politics. What began as passionate protests for LGBTQ+ rights has, over time, turned into something much more mainstream and commercialised. Big companies and political parties now play a more significant role. This trend is part of a larger pattern called "rainbow capitalism," where businesses use LGBTQ+ symbols and slogans for profit, while urgent issues facing the community, especially those on its margins, are pushed aside.

"Honestly, I couldn't stand it," said Mahdi, a community member who left CSD Berlin this year after just 10 minutes. "Pharma companies, banks, and internet giants-what do they have to do with our struggle?" Mahdi's frustration is palpable. For him, the sight of straight people occupying corporate floats felt like another layer of erasure. "I get that allies are important, but they need to be mindful of the space they take up," Mahdi added, reflecting a common sentiment among those who feel mainstream Pride has lost its way.

But not everyone shares this sense of alienation. "For me, my reasons for going to CSD are two-fold," said Cameron, a regular CSD attendee. "The principles of Pride are still very worthy. It's a day where we can celebrate our LGBTQ+ identities and reflect on how we're not just tolerated but accepted and even celebrated by wider society." Cameron acknowledges the criticisms about corporate influence but admits that, for him, it doesn't overshadow the event's value. "Yes, the parade has been hijacked by corporate interests, but the party atmosphere-dancing in the rain to Spice Girls with queer folks from all over the world-is still magical. It's just fun!"

Cameron recognises his own privilege within these spaces. "I haven't felt excluded because I fit the classic stereotype of a white gay male. I can see why others might feel less represented," he admitted. Hassan, a gay man of colour, shares Cameron's sentiment: "My birthday aligns with CSD Berlin, so my friends visit me from other cities, and we get to experience this collective joy, dressing however we want. It's a time to truly celebrate together."

Tensions Under the Rainbow

While some are disillusioned by Pride's shift away from its radical roots, others appreciate it as a space for self-acceptance. But this raises a fundamental question: Should Pride be about identity or action? Is it enough to reclaim our identities as a response to the shame society imposes, or should Pride be about taking meaningful steps towards change? And if so, what kind of action?

These debates aren't new. In the 1990s, the group Gay Shame emerged in the U.S. to challenge the focus on identity and visibility over activism. They argued that simply transforming shame into pride wasn't enough without confronting systemic oppression through tangible actions like supporting trans rights and fighting against economic inequality. Their stance echoed the message: "None of us is free until all of us are free."

In Berlin, I found a similar spirit at Alternative CSD (Kreuzberg Pride), which rejected corporate sponsorship and focused on grassroots activism, taking on issues like poverty and gentrification. But internal conflicts eventually led to its end, showing that even in activist spaces, disagreements can break down solidarity. After a hiatus, Internationalist Queer Pride emerged in 2021 with a bold political stance that demands revolutionary action to dismantle all forms of oppression. They advocate for environmental justice, decriminalising sex work, supporting indigenous and migrant rights, and abolishing border regimes

"It's empowering to see so many diverse groups coming together for a bigger cause," says Andreas, a cis white queer man who attended this year's Internationalist Queer Pride (IQP). However, he adds, "This year's event was traumatic for many participants due to the police's excessive use of violence." For Andreas, this repression is reminiscent of the early days of queer activism, like the Stonewall riots, when police were viewed as a threat, not allies. This controversy around the police's role is also present on a global scale. For example, Pride Toronto banned police participation following concerns about police brutality and racial profiling raised by the Black Lives Matter movement.

Dozens of arrests were reported during Internationalist Queer Pride (IQP) this year, directly linked to one of the most contentious issues in Germany: the ongoing atrocities in Palestine. Demonstrations in solidarity with Palestinian communities have frequently faced severe police crackdowns, viewed as an unprecedented restriction of free speech. Germany's stance is often framed through the concept of Reason of statewhich reflects the country's commitment to protecting Israel's security due to historical responsibility for the Holocaust. Critics argue that this has translated into unconditional support for Israeli violations of international law.

The Dyke* March and The Persistence of Patriarchy

The Dyke* March, which began in the 1990s to promote lesbian visibility, has since expanded to include women, trans, and non-binary individuals. Cisgender men are asked not to participate, creating a space where these voices and experiences are centered without being overshadowed. Like Kreuzberg Pride, the Dyke* March remains focused on activism and intersectionality, resisting the trend towards commercialisation. However, police violence was also reported at this year's Dyke* March, on the backdrop of Palestinian solidarity.

Two people I talked to have been regularly attending the Dyke* March. Sarah thinks that patriarchy is still a problem within the queer community and that it manifests in how many queer spaces cater primarily to the male experience. "Yes, there are more FLINTA* spaces and events now, but it's still not enough," she said. "We need to keep pushing for real change, not just more visibility." Mar, who identifies as non-binary, also finds it important to attend: "I can be read as a cis male because of my appearance, but I think building a shared understanding shouldn't be based solely on appearance. The experiences of not feeling safe in our bodies and in public spaces are significant things we should come together based on."

Right-Wing Return and the Full Circle

While the tensions between police and demonstrators in Berlin may seem like a historical throwback to the early days of activism, another issue warrants serious attention. In 2024, right-wing groups in Germany have increasingly targeted Pride events, particularly in East Germany. These anti-CSD marches are part of a broader trend of rising nationalism and xenophobia in the country. Although images of neo-Nazis in places like Bautzen have generated significant concern on social media, a persistent narrative in German politics portrays homophobia, transphobia, and anti-Semitism as problems imported from elsewhere. This downplays the actual threat posed by right-wing groups that have demonstrated their presence both on the streets and within the German parliament.

There is no better lesson than the one we are learning now: we must understand issues of xenophobia and injustices related to gender and sexuality as inseparable. With the current existential threats, Pride seems to have come full circle, and we must confront the question of what it means to gather collectively and for what purpose.
9 October 2024
Homonationalism
Why queer people vote for far-right parties

From Ernst Röhm to Peter Thiel: even though the majority of queer people do not vote for right-wing extremists, there are always counter-examples. Why? What makes queer people vote for far-right parties or even join them? Our author Mathias Foit has its Doctoral thesis has written about this topic and provides answers here.

Queer shift to the right? In the last 10-15 years, right-wing populism and right-wing extremism have experienced a particularly strong resurgence worldwide and have permeated many parts of society. Time and again, the media report in apparent bewilderment that LGBTQIA+ people - in theory the most cosmopolitan, tolerant group in society - are turning to far-right, nationalist parties, be it the Rassemblement National in France or the Republicans under Trump. These parties are either blatantly anti-queer or declare - more or less officially - their intention to curtail the rights of various queer groups.

As surprising and contradictory as this phenomenon may be, it is not new in modern history. In the following article, both historical and current examples from a number of countries - particularly Germany, but also the USA, France and Poland - are cited for the intertwining of queer desire and queer politics on the one hand and nationalism and right-wing extremism on the other. It not only examines the reasons why queer people vote for far-right parties, but also what consequences this has for today's politics and what lessons can be learnt from this.

"The warm brotherhood in the brown house": the circle around Ernst Röhm

In the early 1930s, even before the Nazis seized power, Ernst Röhm, leader of the Sturmabteilung (SA) and one of the most important figures in the NSDAP, became the "hero" of a widespread smear campaign: he was outed as a homosexual. Rumours about his sexual "excesses" had been circulating for years beforehand, and he was also a member of the Bund für Menschenrecht (BfM), the largest national umbrella organisation of so-called "friendship clubs" in the Weimar Republic.

Ernst Röhm - Photo: Bundesarchiv, Bild 102-15282A / Georg Pahl / CC-BY-SA 3.0, CC BY-SA 3.0 DE , via Wikimedia Commons

Other SA functionaries were also known to be homosexuals, such as Helmuth Brückner, the Chief President and Gauleiter of the province of Lower Silesia, as well as his deputy and the police chief of Breslau, Edmund Heines, whose "nocturnal orgies" and "wild parties with young men" were reported by the writer Walter Tausk in his diary. The Social Democratic press in particular mocked the conflict between the NSDAP's official party line on homosexuality and the open tolerance of homosexuals within its own ranks. The Munich Post spoke of a "warm brotherhood in the brown house".

Hitler knew about the homosexuality of Röhm and his many followers. Why he tolerated them for so long, how he reconciled this with the Nazi Party's official position on "unnatural fornication" and what the main reason was for the murder of numerous party comrades at the end of June and beginning of July 1934, which has gone down in history as the "Röhm Putsch", remains the subject of historical debate. Both Röhm and Heines fell victim to the bloody purge.

Thanks to a great deal of research, we now know that the anti-homosexual crusade conducted with such vehemence was not a minor issue, but a central component of the Nazi conservative revolution. It is therefore quite possible that the Röhm murders were in fact primarily aimed at destroying a clique of homosexuals who were perceived as dangerous and inclined to conspire against the state. On the other hand, it is also conceivable - as many historians believe - that Hitler wanted to remove what he saw as his greatest rival and his circle from the path to sole rule in the NSDAP.

The roots of queer right-wing extremism

There were also attempts at rapprochement with the Nazis on the part of the then active "homosexual movement" in the person of the chairman of the aforementioned League for Human Rights, Friedrich Radszuweit. In August 1931, he wrote an open - and ultimately unanswered - letter to Hitler personally, in which he called on the NSDAP leader to revise his position on homosexuality. Radszuweit also criticised the smear campaign against Röhm, although his criticism was essentially directed more at the instrumentalisation of homosexuality as a political weapon than at defending the SA leader.

The extent to which Radszuweit's ingratiation with the Nazis is evidence of his supposed change in values or opportunism, or a desperate attempt to negotiate with the devil, is still the subject of controversy today. The fact is that by the end of the 1920s, around 30% of the BfM membership had already declared themselves to be supporters of the Nazi party. Whether Radszuweit wanted it or not, the growing support for the NSDAP, even within the BfM's own ranks, could not be overlooked.

In general, conservatism, nationalism, right-wing populism and right-wing extremism were by no means marginal phenomena in the history of the first German "homosexual movement". Magnus Hirschfeld, who is generally celebrated as the spiritual father and unofficial leader of the movement, was one of the most vocal advocates of the First World War and published two writings (one of them with the telling title "Why do the nations hate us?") in defence of German imperialism. It was only in the later years of the war that he turned to pacifism and internationalism. Adolf Brand, chairman of the Gemeinschaft der Eigenen (GdE), which celebrated the love of men and "boys", and informal spokesman for the circle of so-called "masculinists", was a die-hard anti-feminist, anti-Semite and a relentless critic of the Weimar Republic and advocate of anti-democratic, arch-conservative politics.

The strange paradox: rights and homonationalism

The current entanglement between LGBTQIA+ and nationalism is often referred to as "homonationalism". This involves the instrumentalisation of homosexuality for nationalist, racist purposes and the playing off of queer groups (mostly cis-male, white gays) against the "others". Right-wing politicians, for example, try to fuel the fear of the former against the latter in order to win votes, in particular by drawing on the image of the fundamentalist, homophobic, mostly Muslim immigrant.

This leads to an even greater balancing act than with the Nazis: today's right-wing extremists sometimes present themselves as the supposed protectors of a social group that other right-wing extremists want to see in prison and in turn blame others for the alleged sexualisation of children.

Homonationalism "Around the World"

There are examples of homonationalism all over the world. In 2016, the Islamophobic, "white supremacy" preaching and transphobic organisation "Gays for Trump". Back in 2005, the historian Paul Robinson wrote in his book Queer Wars described how conservatism has divided the LGBTQ+ public in the United States since the beginning of the gay liberation movement. In France and the Netherlands, the far right is also gaining support among many LGBTQIA+ people. In the 2017 presidential election, Marine Le Pen was already primarily in favour of white, cis-male homosexuals. a reasonable political alternative.

Interestingly, the recourse to patriotism or nationalism by queer people does not necessarily have to be motivated by Islamophobia or racism. In Poland, for example, the controversy surrounding the display of the national coat of arms and the national flag against a rainbow background at some CSDs in 2018 also sparked a debate within the LGBTQIA+ community there. Many saw this as an effective political strategy for recognising membership of the national community. Others were strongly opposed to national pride due to the institutional queerphobia of the government at the time.

The most important question: why?

The reasons for the apparent contradiction between emancipatory endeavours and far-right, nationalist and very conservative politics naturally vary depending on the case and context.

In the German Empire, for example, the whole of German society was strongly nationalistic and conservative, which went hand in hand with the imperial and militaristic basic orientation of the state; after all, it was European nationalism that led to the First World War.

In the Weimar Republic, widespread national resentment, the humiliation of the lost and a longing for the old order also played a role. In addition, queer people, who were repeatedly denied their civil rights and accused of treasonous tendencies, fought to be recognised as respectable, dutiful and loyal citizens. A similar motivation - albeit in a very different, largely simpler socio-political and legal context - drives many LGBTQIA+ people in Poland today.

Significantly, it is predominantly cisgender men who continue to form the political vanguard of right-wing extremism, right-wing populism and nationalism. This is hardly surprising, as they have always been denied masculinity and the associated qualities such as strength, determination and efficiency. Professing to be a patriot or even a nationalist often means asserting oneself as a "real" man.

As has been shown, a common denominator of the different forms and national variations of homonationalism today is often Islamophobia. Far-right parties cynically exploit the fears of some LGBTQIA+ people to gain votes and argue against the immigration of people - including queer people who could find refuge in Germany - from Muslim-majority countries.

And what now? Consequences for politics

Homonationalism makes it clear that social concepts such as gender or nation(ality), which are questioned today - for good reason - still have a significance for many LGBTQIA+ people that should not be underestimated. Getting rid of these categories, which is desired by parts of society, is therefore a greater challenge than expected and requires creative approaches.

Homonationalism also shows the importance of integrating anti-racism into queer, emancipatory politics and education. Stereotypes and prejudices against "foreigners" are also widespread in the LGBTQIA+ community. Refugees, but also queers of colour, have been particularly affected by the right-wing truck of recent years, which is why they deserve the solidarity of the entire community.

The inconsistency and cynicism of far-right parties in dealing with homosexuality and gender diversity is obvious. What many queer people hope will be an improvement can only end as it did almost a hundred years ago - with disappointment and misery.

More on this topic can also be found in the article "Queer Nazis" of the Siegessäule magazine.

Bibliography
- Bauer, Heike. "The Hirschfeld Archives: Violence, Death, and Modern Queer Culture." Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Temple UP, 2017.
- Bruns, Claudia. "Politics of Eros: The Männerbund in Science, Politics and Youth Culture (1880-1934)." Cologne: Böhlau Verlag, 2008.
- Foit, Mathias. "Queer Urbanisms in Wilhelmine and Weimar Germany: Of Towns and Villages." Cham, Switzerland: Palgrave Macmillan, 2023.
- Marhoefer, Laurie. "Sex and the Weimar Republic: German Homosexual Emancipation and the Rise of the Nazis." Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2015.
- Micheler, Stefan. "Magazines, associations and clubs of same-sex desiring people in the Weimar Republic." Stefan Micheler Homepage. August 1, 2008. www.StefanMicheler.de/zvlggbm/stm_zvlggbm.pdf.
- Vendrell, Javier Samper. "The Seduction of Youth: Print Culture and Homosexual Rights in the Weimar Republic." Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2020.
- Wolfert, Raimund. "On the trail of the 'inverts' in Wroclaw in the twenties and thirties." Invertito Yearbook for the History of Homosexuality 9 (2007): 93-135.
- Zinn, Alexander. "Removed from the body of the people? Homosexual men under National Socialism." Frankfurt: Campus Verlag, 2018.
11 September 2024