(ID: logo Die Freundin, subtitle Kleinode und Fundstücke, subtitle 2 i.e. assorted curios)
thanks to the Forum Queeres Archiv München i have recently come across an archive of the 1920s-1930s german magazine “Die Freundin” (i.e. “Girlfriend”), a publication aimed primarily at lesbians, transvestites*, people invested in supporting the human rights of homosexuals, and presumably anyone who was willing to wait 6 full weeks to collect a complete short story with minimal girl-on-girl smut. wikipedia calls it the “first ever lesbian magazine” and i dont have the means to prove them wrong on that.
since i have had the magazine’s beautifully calligraphed logo in my personal blog’s header for quite a while now, i will use this blog to show off snippets of whatever i find worth sharing while perusing this almost 100 year old publication. this is not an attempt at serious academic research. in my infinite mercy i will do my best to provide translations of the texts, purely so the pitiable anglophone might get a glance at what kind of gay shit was happening in Berlin, Germany from 1927-1933 (technically Die Freundin was published from 1924-1933, but the archive i have access to only starts at 1927 so thats what youre getting). this is not a formal read-along and i will adhere to no schedule whatsoever. every post will be tagged with the number of the issue i took it from.
German speakers (or those with access to someone willing to translate) can read along here (link goes to Forum Queeres Archiv München)
IF YOU FIND SOMETHING FUNNY OR NOTABLE ON YOUR OWN DIVE INTO THE MAGAZINE, SUBMIT IT IN A POST TO THIS BLOG
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* depending on the context, this was used to refer to recreational cross-dressers, trans women, trans men, or other kinds of gender-divergent people. if that bothers you, youre probably not going to like most of the content of the magazine since it’s almost 100 years old and was not curated to match the taste of internet-using queers in the 2020s.
while most cover models for the magazine were (predictably) feminine women posing for nude photographs alone or in groups, i was able to find these four exceptions* among them in the archive. maybe there were even more in the 3 years that arent collected in the archive! due to the quality of the scans i fully cannot tell if 2 or 3 of these are the same person... nevertheless i can only imagine what their appearance must have moved in girls back in the day - did masculine women have them acting unwise? in any case i felt like unearthing these primordial butches and showing them to tumblr dot com... who knows what happened to them in the years after.
only one of the models is named, and im not entirely sure the picture used was meant to be a "glamorous" photo. her name is Charlotte "Lotte" Hahm and shes most likely on the cover of No. 17, 1929 because of the recent merging of the two ladies' clubs Violetta and Monbijou (discussed by Hahm in an article on page 5-6 of that number). you might recognize her from this picture, which has made the rounds on tumblr (blog: genderoutlaws) in the last few years:
which is also on the cover of an issue of Die Freundin (No.1, 1929). Hahm was actually a prominent lesbian and feminist organizer could really also have an entire post all to herself. she even survived both the Nazi regime and WW2 to keep organizing well into the 1940s and 50s. more about her (and almost equally as important: more pictures of her cool outfits) can be found here (Lesbengeschichte.org, in german). let me know if theres interest in a translation of that site's biography into english!
*there is one more from 1928 that i am omitting from this post because she will be the subject of her own post later. inquisitive readers can find her on the cover of No. 7, 1928.
image IDs under the cut:
(image 1: photograph in black and white of a round-faced fair-skinned woman with short slicked back hair looking to the right, smiling while holding a cigarette in her hand. she is wearing an open suit jacket with a white pocket square, a white dress shirt, and a striped tie)
(image 2: photograph in black and white of a fair-skinned woman with hair that blurs into the dark background of the photograph, seated and looking sternly over her right shoulder. she is dressed in a black tuxedo jacket with large lapels, a white dress shirt with a black bowtie, and a monocle attached to her shirt. she is holding a cigarette in her hand)
(image 3: photograph in black and white of a fair skinned woman looking the the left, dressed in some kind of white and black uniform cap with a leather brim and laurels, black uniform jacket with white braided shoulder boards and a white pocket square, a white dress shirt, and a black bowtie. the photograph is captioned in german as "The modern woman!")
(image 4: photograph in black and white of a fair skinned woman standing with her hands in her pockets facing the camera directly, her hair dark, short, and parted to one side. she is wearing a white dress shirt, white or possibly very light colored tie, dark suit pants, and light colored shoes. the photo is captioned in german as "Lotte Hahm, 1st club president of the Ladies' Clubs Violetta and Monbijou")
(image 5: the same person as in image 4 posing with a sign that reads "Hooray! Die Freundin is here again!" in german, wearing a polka dotted bowtie instead of a long tie. the rest of the outfit is the same as in image 4)
just before All Saint's Day, Nadja Leu is giving us a classic meet-cute love story. this one's between a butch bachelor and a distinguished lady of the performing arts (who knows more than she lets on...)
short stories like these take up a sizeable portion of the magazine's limited space. most likely there simply was no other place to publish them. some of them are absolutely definitely fictional, but i cant help but identify with Varya's lovestruck behavior as the lady of her literal dreams casually waltzes into her home. "I'll move to the guest room and let her have the bedroom" - butches really have not changed in 100 years. interesting to me is that the lady who enters our hapless butch's appartment keeps referring to her with masculine terms and language even after a initial "misunderstanding" is cleared up. clearly Varya likes it that way. i wouldnt call Corriger la fortune a masterpiece of literature but i enjoy reading about masculine women being flustered by the presence of a beautiful lady. she just like me for real.
image IDs under the cut:
ID deutsch:
Nadja Leu
Corriger la fortune.
An der Etagentür stand der Name "W. Balukin", und "dieser" W. Balkukin hieß Warwara Iwanowna Balukin. Wenn ich den Vornamen nicht vollständig genannt hätte, so würde man Warwara Iwanowna unbedingt für einen sympathischen, blonden jungen Herren halten müssen, wie so in ihrem gemütlichen Heim saß, Zigaretten qualmte und zeichnete. Verschiedene Blätter lagen bereits vor Warja - wie ihre Bekannten sie nannten - die Entwürfe zeigten alle den gleichen Frauentyp, eine tief brünette, schlanke Frau mit mandelförmigen, dunklen Augen.
Warja fühlte sich einsam. Ein ganzes Jahr war sie nun in Deutschland und konnte sich immer noch nicht an jemanden fest anschließen. Führte sie der Zufall mit einem lieben Mädel irgendwo zusammen, dann war es sicher, daß sie nächtelang das Bild jener dunklen Frau im Traume sah, so deutlich, daß sie das Bild der Unbekannten zeichnen mußte. Selbst in ihren Modeentwürfen - sie war Modezeichnerin eines großen Hauses - wiederholten sich in letzter Zeit die Züge jener Frau, an die sie denken mußte, ohne sie zu kennen.
Da klingelte es, Warja aus ihren Träumen reißend. Sie schloß die Knöpfe ihres dunkelbraunen Hausanzugs und ging öffnen. - Vor ihr stand… jene Frau, Zug um Zug ihrem Traumbilde gleich. Warja war es unmöglich zu reden. Sie starrte die Fremde an. Diese lächelte über die Verwirrung, die sie angerichtet hatte und sagte, immer noch ein wenig lächelnd:
"Verzeihen Sie bitte die Störung, mein Herr, doch dürfte ich vielleichte die in der Zeitung annoncierten möblierten Räue besichtigen? Ich bin seit einer Woche hier und möchte nicht länger im Hotel wohnen."
Warja hatte inzwischen ihre Fassung wiedergefunden. Sie sagte der Dame nicht, daß die betreffenden Räue sich bei einer Dame ein Stockwerk über ihr befänden, sondern bat die Dame in ihre Wohnung - und hatte nur den Wunsch, den fieberhaften Gedanken, diese fremde Frau nicht mehr wegzulassen. Sie zeigte derselben ihr Schlaf- und ihr Arbeitszimmer, schnell überlegend, daß sie selbst ja auch im Fremdenzimmer wohnen könne, wenn sie nur bei ihr bliebe, diese dunkle Frau. Plötzlich lachte der Fremde. "Aber ich vergesse ja, meinen Namen zu nennen, Herr Balukin. Ich bin Maria Alieny und werde einige Zeit hier an der Oper gastieren. Doch Verzeihung, Herr Balukin, darf ich fragen, ob Sie hier ganz allein wohnen?" - Warja bejahte. - "Ich muß offen sagen, sie gefielen mir ausnehmend gut, die Zimmer, doch Sie verstehen, ich kann natürlich nicht daran denken, bei einem alleinstehenden Herrn zu mieten. Schade. Aber ich kann wirklich nur bei einer Dame wohnen… Doch was sehe ich hier, Herr Balukin? Sie haben mich gezeichnet?" Dabei nahm Maria ein Blatt zur Hand. "Wie genau sie mich beobachtet haben müssen!" Warja konnte vor innerer Erregung kaum sprechen, vor Glück, die Frau bei sich zu sehen, die sie im Traum so oft besucht hatte. Sie konnte nicht anders, stockend kam es über ihre Lippen: "Mein gnädiges Fräulein, Sie sehen, daß ich jetzt ganz ruhig bin, Sie sahen aber auch, daß ich, als ich Sie erblickte, vor Erregung keine Worte finden konnte. Zuerst muß ich einen Irrtum aufklären, ich sehe wohl wie ein junger Mann aus und mein Denken wird wohl auch einem solchen ähnlich sein, aber… ich bin ja eine Frau, wie Sie! Und ohne Sie je gesehen zu haben, träumte ich von einer Frau, die ihre Züge trägt, und so wurde es Ihr Bild, Maria, das ich in Gedanken an den Traum zeichnete. Nun sehe Sie vor mir in Wirklichkeit. Wissen Sie, was das heißt? - Das höchste Glück in der Nähe zu wissen, es nicht besitzen zu dürfen - weil ich eine Frau bin. Denn wie könnte ich annehmen, daß Sie verstehen können, daß ich eine Frau liebte in meinen Gedanken. Und nun sind Sie bei mir. Ich weiß ja, Sie werden jetzt gehen und doch, ich kann Sie nicht belügen. Maria, was ist? Sie lachen doch nicht über mich? - Ich kann es nicht fassen, helfen Sie mir doch, ich kann nicht glauben, was meine Augen sehen. Daß Sie lieb zu mir sein können! O du, ich muß dich umarmen! Maria, du weißt alles und willst bei mir bleiben?… Das ist seligste Seligkeit, und nie wieder werde ich dich von mir lassen."
Und einige Tage später, als sich Maria aus "Herrn" Balukins breitem französischem Bette erhoben hatte, da sagte diese unter tiefem Erröten zu Warja: "Nun versprich mir, daß du auch mir verzeihen kannst. Ich wußte nämlich, wer du warst. Vor einigen Tagen erkundigte ich mich nach dir, als ich dich in der Modeausstellung sah. Denn schon damals war auch mein Interesse für dich so stark, daß ich einen Weg zu dir suchte. Da kam mir die Annonce zur Hilfe, daß in dem Hause, in dem du wohnst, möblierte Räume abzugeben seien. Und so spielte ich ein wenig 'corriger la fortune'. Denke, Warja, daß ich im Augenblick wirklich keinen schnelleren Weg finden konnte, um zu erfahren, daß auch du mich so lieb haben kannst, wie ich dich, du lieber Junge…"
ID english:
"V. Balukin" the sign at the appartment door said, this* V. Balukin being Varvara Ivanovna Balukin. Had I omitted this first name, one would easily take Varvara Ivanovna for a pleasant fair-haired young man, the way she was lounging in her comfortable abode, smoking cigarettes while drawing. A number of sheets already lay in front of Varya - as she was known to her acquaintances - all of the sketches showing the same type of woman: a slender brunette with dark almond-shaped eyes.
Varya felt lonely. She'd been in Germany for a whole year and still could not find anyone to settle down with. Whenever chance did allow her to cross paths with a nice girl somewhere, the image of that dark lady would haunt her dreams for nights on end, with such clarity that it compelled her to draw pictures of this stranger. Even her fashion sketches - she was, at the time, an illustrator for a big fashion store - had started to take on the features of that woman who was stuck in her head without her knowing who she was.
The doorbell rang, dragging Varya out of her dreams. She fastened the buttons of her dark brown pajamas and went to unlock the door. - She found… - just that woman, the spitting image of the specter in her dreams. Words failed Varya. She stared at the stranger, who gave a little smile at the confusion she caused, and with that same smile still on her lips said:
"So sorry to bother you, sir, but would you let me see the furnished rooms for rent that I saw being advertised in the paper? I've been in town for a week and don't want to stay at a hotel any longer."
In the mean time Varya had managed to compose herself. She didn't tell the lady that those rooms were to be found one floor above this one, but let her into the appartment - taken by the need to not let her leave. She showed her bedroom and her studio to her, thinking quickly that she herself would be more than fine with moving into the guest room if only this dark lady were to stay with her. The stranger gave a sudden laugh.
"Oh dear, I forgot to tell you my name, Mr Balukin. I'm Maria Alieny, I'll be on stage at the opera for a little while. However, Mr Balukin, if I may ask: Do you live here all on your own?" - Varya affirmed this. - "To be honest I've taken quite a shine to these rooms, but you understand that I can't rent with a single bachelor. A pity. But I really must live with a woman… But what is this, Mr Balukin? You've been drawing me?" Maria grabbed one of the sketches as she said it, "You must have observed me quite closely!" Varya struggled to speak taken by the thrill and bliss of seeing the woman who had visited her so often in her dreams. She couldn't help but sputter: "Dearest madam, as you can see I'm completely calm now, but you took my breath away when I saw you. So first I'll have to correct a misunderstanding, I may look and perhaps even think like a young man, but… I am a woman, just like you! And I've been dreaming of a woman who looks just like you even though I had never seen you before, that's how the drawings I made thinking about that dream ended up having your face. And now you're actually here. Do you know what that means? - To be within reach of the greatest bliss, knowing I will never be allowed to grasp it - because I'm a woman. Because how could I presume you'd understand I'd been in love with a woman in my thoughts. And now you're here with me. Of course I know you'll leave now, but still, I cannot lie to you. What's that, Maria? You're not laughing at me, are you? - I can't believe it, help me here, I can't believe my eyes. You're so kind to me! O you, come into my arms! Maria, you know all this and want to stay with me? … This is bliss upon greatest bliss and I'll never let you leave my side."
A couple of days later, as Maria rose from "Mister" Balukin's broad french bed, her cheeks flushed a bright red and she told Varya: "Now you promise me that you'll be able to forgive me too. I knew who you were all along. A couple of days ago I asked around about you, when I saw you at the fashion show. Even back then I'd been so interested in you, I had to find a way to get close to you. That ad in the paper that said there were furnished rooms to rent in the house you lived in came to my aid. And so I did a little 'corriger la fortune'. See, Varya, in that moment I simply couldn't find a faster way to see if you could love me the same way I loved you, my dearest boy…"
*the author uses the masculine form here, something that i cant account for in English.
Eva Petersen, author of a handful of articles for the magazine (you might call her a regular), writes about her conflicted feelings about her girlfriend's newborn child. she doesnt like thinking about her girlfriend having sex with someone else. interesting to me is that she doesnt just not recognize the child as her own at first (a reasonable take for someone who has not given birth to it) but not as her girlfriend's either, because of how incomprehensible it seems to her. she does come around though, accepting the child as theirs. all is well in the Petersen family in the end. love does in fact win on November 14th, 1927!
this short text feels pretty relevant even today, to me. a lot of lesbians still arent exactly able to conceive a child thats theirs by blood on both sides. some couples adopt. either way theres gonna be a parent who has to step up to the task of being a parent without being causally involved in creating the biological mass of the child! my own real-life boss at my day job is a dyke like that, and from what i can tell she seems to be both doing great as a parent and love her kids.
image IDs under the cut:
(ID deutsch: Dein Kind. Lange schon wusste ich von deinem Sehnen nach einem eigenen Kinde, und doch traf mich die Wirklichkeit so hart, dass ein Fremder dir so nah gewesen; ich konnte es nicht vergessen. Eines Tages aber riefst du mich zu dir und dem Kinde, welches ich nicht als dein Kind erkennen wollte. Aus deinem abgezehrten Gesicht leuchteten die Augen in seltsamer Klarheit. Und diese Augen zwangen mich an des Bettchen des kleinen Wesens, dem du das Leben schenktest. Widerwilling beugte ich mich nieder und sah in ein winziges, verschlafenes Gesichtlein. Langsam nur kam ein wenig Licht in die Dunkelheit meines Sinnens, und schwere Tränen fielen auf das Stückchen Leben vor mir. Tränen, die befreiten und erleichterten. Kein Wort unterbrach das lastende Schweigen zwischen uns. Du sahst meinen inneren Kampf, und um deinen Mund grub sich ein bitterer Zug. Da legte ich leise, scheu beinah, deine lieben müden Hände in die meinen und küsste sie in stiller Abbitte und inbrünstiger Liebe. Und dann nahm ich dein Kind - unser Kind - an mein Herz.)
(ID english: Your child. For a long time I'd known about your yearning for a child of your own, yet the realization that a stranger had been so close to you hit me hard; i could not forget it. But one day you called me to see you and the child, which I would not recognize as yours. Your eyes were alight with peculiar clarity in your harrowed face. And it were those eyes that commanded me towards the cradle of the tiny being you had given life to. Reluctantly I bent down and looked upon a tiny, sleepy little face. Light only pierced the dakrness of my thoughts slowly, little by little, and heavy tears fell upon the small bundle of life in front of me. The freeing tears of relief. No word interrupted the heavy silence between us. You saw my inner struggle, and a bitter expression ran across your lips. So I took your dear, tired hands into mine quietly, in a manner almost demure, and kissed them in wordless atonement and full of passionate love. Then I took your child - our child - and cradled it against my heart*.)
*can also refer to taking it into her heart metaphorically, i.e. loving it. my translations sadly cannot account for every single nuance
from the adverts section: the "Girlfriend" Club wrapping up carnival season with two swings and one miss. the entry requirements are what caught my eye here: "ladies and transvestites only". perhaps a very early predecessor of contemporary "flinta*" parties, or simply an invitiation to dress appropriately.
while i can't go back and check, i have to assume the "Apache ball" was less of a celebration of cultural connection between the lesbians of Berlin and the Apache people residing in the USA, and most likely an example of a pastime still popular in Germany to this day: dressing up as "Indians" and playing pretend for a few hours. this can also be observed in other German media such as "Winnetou".
the location at Alexanderplatz (also known as just "Alex") is a famous tourist spot in Berlin nowadays. quite peculiarly, looking up Landsberger Straße 39 today does not get you anywhere close to Alexanderplatz, so i have to assume the street's name or numbering system was changed since then. it is quite likely that the Palais Alexander was shelled and destroyed in World War 2.
image IDs under the cut:
(ID deutsch: Vereinigung "Freundin". Mittwoch, den 22. Februar - Letzter Großer Maskenball. Mittwoch, den 29. Februar - Apachenball. Nur für Damen und Transvestiten. Alexander-Palais, Landsberger Straße 39. Am Alexanderplatz)
(ID english: The "Girlfriend" Club announces two masked balls: Wednesday February 22nd, Last Grand Masked Ball. Wednesday February 29th, "Apache" Ball. Ladies and transvestites only. To be held at Palais Alexander at Landsberger Straße 39, Alexanderplatz)
