In addition to Hirschfeld, two other performers, both of whom would find significant success in the 1920s, were cast in central roles. The lead who played Paul Körner, Conrad Veidt (1893–1943), also starred in expressionist films (including The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari) and eventually worked in Britain and Hollywood. His most recognizable role was as the Nazi, Major Strasser, in Casablanca (1942). Veidt married three times and was by all accounts completely heterosexual. But he was certainly sympathetic to Hirschfeld’s cause (as well as an ardent anti-Nazi). Although his role in Anders never affected his acting prospects, it shadowed him to some extent. American screenwriter Anita Loos (1889–1981), visiting Weimar Berlin from Hollywood, observed tongue in cheek that “the prettiest girl on the street was Conrad Veidt,” since “any Berlin lady of the evening might turn out to be a man.”12 Loos’s remark might have also reflected Veidt’s following among homosexuals, inspired by his role in Anders. His appearances on stage and screen were reported on by journals such as Die Freundschaft. He also attended at least one Christmas costume ball meant exclusively for men, according to Christopher Isherwood.13
The film’s other up-and-coming figure was the bisexual cabaret dancer Anita Berber (1899–1928), who played the sister of Paul Körner’s lover. Berber acted in other films, sometimes alongside Veidt, but her notoriety came from her completely nude dance performances, which were outré even in Berlin. With her garçonne self-presentation, she embodied the flapper androgyny of the 1920s and was considered an inspiration for the likes of Marlene Dietrich and Greta Garbo. Sadly, her well-known addictions to cocaine, morphine, and opium shortened her career (and her life).14
Anders premiered in May 1919 and quickly became a “box-office” success. Within a short period, however, organized protesters began disturbing public screenings. These negative reactions were not spontaneous but, rather, staged disruptions organized by conservative Catholic and Protestant as well as right-wing anti-Semitic groups. The film ultimately spurred formal debate on censorship. While the Weimar constitution of August 1919 assured freedom of expression, it also created certain qualifications specifically for cinema, which were included almost certainly in response to the Hirschfeld-Oswald production. According to the 1919 constitution, films that might be classified as obscene (Schund und Schmutz, for example) or deemed dangerous to youth were subject to censorship. Although public screenings were permitted throughout most of northern Germany, the predominantly Catholic southwestern German states banned the film.
In October and November Hirschfeld sponsored screenings at the Institute for Sexual Science for members of the German National Assembly, the Prussian State Assembly, and the federal and Prussian state governments.15 The effort was in vain, and in May of 1920 German legislators approved a specific censorship law for film. An office in Berlin was now established to review controversial productions. Anders was one of the first to be considered and was consigned to a panel of three psychiatrists—Albert Moll, Emil Kraepelin, and Siegfried Placzek—who were public opponents of Hirschfeld and disliked his aggressive advocacy for legal reform. The panel influenced the decision to ban public screenings of Anders, which was promulgated in October 1920. The formal determination claimed that the film was biased in its assessment of Paragraph 175 and that it likewise presented a one-sided view of the science, making common cause with the “homosexual party.” For these reasons, the panel of psychiatrists argued, the film confused underage viewers about the phenomenon of homosexuality and could function as a recruitment tool. Future screenings of the film would be limited to private audiences and medical professionals. Effectively the only venue where the movie could be viewed was the institute, where it was shown for educational purposes and special events.16
Despite the censorship and this apparent defeat, Anders helped to establish a peculiar German genre of “enlightenment film” (Aufklärungsfilm) that was popular throughout the Weimar period. Hirschfeld’s collaborator and the director of Anders, Richard Oswald, produced what is often considered the first such movie, Es werde Licht! (Let there be light!), before the end of the war in 1917. The topic was venereal disease, an especially pressing issue among the mustered troops. No fewer than six enlightenment films are attributed to Oswald, on themes ranging from drug and alcohol abuse to prostitution and abortion. According to one estimate, at least 140 enlightenment films were given theatrical releases by 1933.17 Hirschfeld continued to dabble in the film business and participated in at least three additional productions, including the 1927 Gesetze der Liebe: Aus der Mappe eines Sexualforschers (The laws of love: From the portfolio of a sex researcher), which outlined his own career, the various projects of the institute, and an abbreviated segment from Anders, which was ultimately left out to appease censors. Even this measure failed, however, and Gesetze der Liebe was ultimately banned in its entirety.
Hirschfeld’s involvement in Weimar cinema was limited and, it would appear—considering the censorship of his two most important film projects—of little import. Yet this is misleading. The degree to which sexual minorities and gender ambiguity are depicted in Weimar film demands more careful consideration. For one, the number of films with explicitly homosexual themes or characters is remarkable: Michael (1924) was based on the novel by Danish author Herman Bang (1857–1912) about the love affair between a male artist and his male model (published in Danish in 1902 and in German translation in 1904); Pandora’s Box (1928), based loosely on Frank Wedekind’s “Lulu” plays—Erdgeist (1895) and Die Büchse der Pandora (1904)—was directed by G. W. Pabst and starred the American Louise Brooks; the plot of the 1928 production Geschlecht in Fesseln: Die Sexualnot der Gefangenen (Sex in Chains) revolved around the love affair of a married man (serving a prison term for murder) with another male prisoner; Mädchen in Uniform (1931) told the story of the unconsummated affair between a girl at a Prussian boarding school and her female teacher. These films—by no means a comprehensive list—encountered the scrutiny of censors. But again, the freedom in the 1920s to depict realistic homosexual or lesbian characters, and their relationships, was all but unique to Germany.18
Of equal interest—and of far greater number—were the films, usually comedies, that depicted mistaken identities due to cross-dressing. The Ernst Lubitsch film I Don’t Want to Be a Man, released in 1918 before the end of the war, tells the story of a wealthy young woman who dons men’s clothing to escape supervision. At a costume ball, the young woman “passes” successfully, and flirts with her own male tutor, who kisses his charge—believing her to be a boy—on the drunken carriage ride home. The subterfuge is ultimately ended and the young woman and her instructor become a couple. That the pre-Weimar censors permitted a kiss between characters who were both dressed as men is remarkable. The shock of an apparent homosexual encounter is mitigated, however, by humor and the happy heterosexual ending. The list of other films that either involved a cross-dressing character or a significant violation of traditional gender norms is long. A few of the most flagrant would include Der Geiger von Florenz (1925–26) and the original 1933 Viktor und Viktoria (which starred Julie Andrews in a 1982 remake).
Hirschfeld and the institute had no direct influence on these productions, of course, though one can certainly recognize the Hirschfeldian Zeitgeist. One intriguing anecdote is provided by Hirschfeld’s biographer, Charlotte Wolff, who grew up in Berlin in the 1920s. When conducting research on Hirschfeld in west Berlin, Wolff interviewed the cinematographer Hans Casparius, who had had close ties to Hirschfeld, claimed to be his distant relative, and was a frequent visitor to the institute. One of Casparius’s credits was his work on G. W. Pabst’s film version of Bertolt Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, released in 1931. Casparius claimed that Pabst and other cinematic luminaries knew and admired Hirschfeld, at least by reputation if not personally, and also acquainted themselves (as did so many) with the transvestite bar Eldorado.19
This artistic and cultural freedom heralded by Hirschfeld was accompanied, unfortunately, by a radical
nationalist and anti-Semitic reaction. Recall that 1919 was the year that Hans Blüher released the second volume of his Die Rolle der Erotik in der männlichen Gesellschaft, with its explicit anti-Semitism and glorification of the nationalist, homoerotic Männerbund. A few years later, in his Secessio Judaica, Blüher claimed, “One cannot be a Jew and a German.”20 It was Blüher, in fact, who glorified the right-wing Freikorps—made up of soldiers returning from the Western Front—as the embodiment of his Männerbund and the vanguard of a “conservative revolution.” It was the Freikorps, of course, to whom the shaky Social Democratic government turned to suppress communist revolution in Bavaria and elsewhere. Though successful in preserving the republic, the governing Social Democrats fatally poisoned relations with the German communists, making any unified left-wing opposition to the radical right (after 1930) a near impossibility.
Freikorps thugs were almost certainly responsible for disrupting the lectures Hirschfeld delivered in Hamburg in March 1920 by throwing fireworks into the crowded auditorium. Security officers ejected the “protesters,” and Hirschfeld was able to complete his talk.21 In Cologne he was able to speak only with police protection. Engagements in Stettin and Nuremberg were canceled altogether due to threats.22 Hirschfeld was specifically identified and condemned in anti-Semitic flyers distributed during the unsuccessful Kapp Putsch, the coup attempt in Berlin led by the nationalist Wolfgang Kapp and supported by right-wing elements as well as parts of the military. In October Hirschfeld delivered another lecture, this time in Munich, and, on the way back to his hotel, was assaulted and left bleeding on the pavement. Many German papers announced his death. The New York Times reported that “Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, the well-known expert on sexual science, died in Munich today of injuries inflicted upon him by an anti-Jewish mob.”23 His attackers were never apprehended. It became clear that the radical right, including the fledgling Nazi Party, deliberately identified Hirschfeld in their anti-Semitic rhetoric as the personification of the “Jewish corruption” of Germany. A few days after the attack, Hitler himself commented on Hirschfeld in an appearance at the Munich Hofbräuhaus, castigating the German justice system for granting such a “Jewish swine” the liberty to pervert German culture.24 Thus the republic’s multifaceted political culture not only empowered activism for homosexual emancipation but also permitted violent conservative political reaction.
As an early and abiding focus of Hirschfeld’s research, “sexual intermediaries” became one of the institute’s chief concerns. The definition of the term had expanded, however, since Hirschfeld first used it in the late nineteenth century to describe primarily male homosexuals and lesbians. Within a short period, the category evolved to include both homo- and heterosexual cross-dressers (“transvestites,” as Hirschfeld labeled them), intersex individuals with ambiguous genitalia (“hermaphrodites”), and men or women who identified themselves with the opposite sex (described today as “transgender”). This diverse group comprised “sexual intermediaries,” since its many elements all seemed to deviate from the heterosexual norm. Of course, Hirschfeld maintained that these sexual (and gender) variants occurred naturally and were therefore non-pathological. The corollary of this position and Hirschfeld’s principal contention was that sexual and gender variation was biologically determined.
What became increasingly clear, however, was that nonnormative sexual orientation—homosexuality—was something completely different from the compulsion to cross-dress. Recall that in 1910 Hirschfeld had published a study, The Transvestites: The Erotic Drive to Cross-Dress, that introduced his own neologism and described men and women who wore the clothing of the opposite sex. Cross-dressing had been a puzzling phenomenon, vexing a range of psychiatrists and sexologists from Richard von Krafft-Ebing to Albert Moll, almost all of whom interpreted the practice variously as fetishistic or as a symptom of homosexuality. Hirschfeld’s study was the first to give cross-dressing its own appellation and to identify it as something distinct from sexual orientation. He based his analysis on seventeen case studies, and argued that cross-dressers were often heterosexual. Moreover, only a minority of homosexuals had a compulsion to don clothing of the opposite sex. Hirschfeld quickly found a supporter in Havelock Ellis, who was one of the first sexologists to embrace the theory.25 With this revolutionary “discovery,” Hirschfeld began the process of untangling the nineteenth-century conflation of sexual orientation and gender identity.26
Before Hirschfeld’s “discovery,” public cross-dressing was often associated with prostitution and criminal activity. Those detected in public were arrested for “disturbing the peace,” and then photographed for the mug shot album of “homosexuals and blackmailers.” Newspaper stories of such arrests became increasingly common beginning in the 1890s.27 In addition to these reports, popular entertainment at the turn of the century—along with the transvestite balls and clubs of Berlin’s homosexual community—helped to inspire and shape Hirschfeld’s theory. In cabarets, circuses, and variety theaters, male and female impersonators drew large crowds. These performers took great pride in the verisimilitude of their impersonations, and many befriended Hirschfeld. A few were even featured in his case studies.28
Popular interest propelled the publication of several putative memoirs or biographies documenting the lives and experiences of men and women who adopted the gender identity of the opposite sex.29 One of the first such publications was the autobiography of an Italian man, edited by Émile Zola, which appeared in German translation in 1899.30 Perhaps the most sensational story was reported in the Berlin press in December 1906.31 It involved the suicide of a young man, Alfred H., who had “passed” as a South American aristocrat, “Countess Dina Alma de Paradeda.” Posing as the fictional countess, Alfred H. had cut an elegant figure in Berlin—attending the homosexual balls in drag—before moving to Breslau, where he became engaged to a (male) teacher. Increasingly fearful of disclosure, Alfred H. finally killed himself in late 1906. The biography was published in 1907 as Tagebuch einer männlichen Braut (Diary of a male bride), based allegedly on the young man’s diary.32 Another striking case study appeared that same year, authored by “N. O. Body” (“nobody”). The volume recounted the early life of Karl M. Baer (1884–1956), born with ambiguous genitalia and then raised as a girl. As a young woman, Baer entered therapy with Hirschfeld before adopting a masculine identity and living as a man.33
These accounts appear to have increased understanding for the plight of sexual “intermediaries,” especially those who faced the dilemma of how to “perform” gender in public. The liberal press in Berlin tended to offer its support. In January 1906 a certain Frau Katz was detained for the seventh time with her hair cropped short and wearing a man’s felt hat, but also in a skirt. When the police demanded identification, she provided two official documents that proved her status as a woman. Still unconvinced, one of the officers finally asked, “Are you really a woman?” As the sympathetic newspaper report explained, “[S]he would only appear unsuspicious if allowed to dress as a man…. But if she did so, she would then be committing the offense of which she is now suspected, for the seventh time. What should she do?” The best solution, the article explained, was to educate the police: “There are men with the faces of women, and women with the faces of men. If necessary, police officials need to be schooled by Dr. Hirschfeld. Such mistrust as in this case should not be based on ignorance.”34
In short order Hirschfeld managed to reform the practices of the Berlin police (which appear to have followed the recommendation of this newspaper report). In 1909 Hirschfeld convinced local authorities to issue a so-called transvestite pass (Transvestitenschein) to a young woman, allowing her to work and appear in public wearing men’s clothing. Such passes would allow both men and women to appear in the garb of the opposite sex and not fear arrest. Again, there was no formal law that banned cross-dressing, but individuals who did not “pass” successfully were vulnerable to police harassment. Now, if accosted by police or another citizen, the cr
oss-dresser could produce the pass as proof of official permission.35 Although there are no precise figures, it is clear that up until 1933 Hirschfeld and other sympathetic medical doctors petitioned local authorities for and procured dozens of transvestite passes for patients and clients.36
In 1912 the Berliner Tageblatt described how nineteen-year-old Georg von Zobeltitz, member of an old noble family, formerly with ties to the Hohenzollern court, was arrested for public cross-dressing. “The alleged culprit was soon released,” the paper explained, “once it was determined that it was a case not of disorderly conduct but instead of a transvestite.” The article explained that “Zobeltitz had been in treatment for an extended period with Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, had always felt the urge to wear women’s clothing, and had learned to fashion his own clothing and hats with tremendous expertise.”37 Within a year, Zobeltitz had acquired a transvestite pass in Potsdam (where he resided), presumably with Hirschfeld’s help. When called before a military recruitment commission in Potsdam in 1913, the young man appeared dressed as a woman, presenting proof of his dispensation. The Berliner Börsen-Courier explained that “[s]uch cases in which officials, on the basis of medical assessments, grant permission to men and women to wear the clothes of the opposite sex have increased significantly in recent times. The reason for this has less to do with greater frequency of such cases than with a growing awareness of their correct scientific understanding.”38 Though never stating so explicitly, the news reports implied that Zobeltitz was deemed ineligible for military service.39
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