Garçonne
The U-Bahn doors screeched open and Lilli stepped out onto the platform, promptly making her way down the stairs and out of Bülowstrasse Station. A fresh gust of wind puffed up her shingle bob as she sped down the street, and she felt her heart beat faster as the Dorian Gray came into view. The building which housed the club was unassuming, but it hung a large, white sign that read “Dorian Gray,” which was illuminated by two lights so that anyone within a hundred meters could spot it among the other clubs. Lilli stopped in front of the entrance and tried to gather herself. She had read Garçonne since her high school days, when she would steal copies from a lesbian teacher and get engrossed in the pages. The day she had been hired onto the staff of the lesbian magazine had been one of the happiest of her 23 years on earth. But now she feared losing her place on the staff, or worse, she feared that she had brought harm to the magazine. Taking a deep and shaky breath, she swung open the door of the club, upon which the familiar triad of smoke, jazz and a hundred overlapping voices hit her all at once. She proceeded in but didn’t get far before Greta appeared out of nowhere to give her a hasty kiss. Leaning into Greta’s ear Lilli uttered, “Greta, I’m worried.” Greta grabbed her hand without replying and led her through the club’s maze of people to a large table hidden by a curtain at the back, where about two dozen women were congregated: this was the Garçonne’s office. The pair squeezed themselves between two writers who were busily clacking away at their typewriters and waited.
Greta had rung Lilli’s building’s telephone that morning. An emergency meeting had been called –– something had gone wrong. The police were threatening to make arrests about an article Lilli had written. Lilli knew in an instant which piece Greta was talking about. It was her review of Leontine Sagan’s new film “Mädchen in Uniform,” whose premiere at the Apollo Theater she’d attended two weeks earlier. The film, with its lesbian characters and themes, was controversial on its own. Lilli, however, had taken the opportunity to hit out at the Weimar government, specifically its leniency towards Freikorps and other right wing militia groups, who had raided the premier.
She had just sat down in the front row, ready to take notes on the film, when a horde of Freikorps members and other people dressed in militia uniforms had filled the theater yelling threats and chanting homophobic slurs. A man sporting a Great War era military helmet had spat on her. Theatergoers had called for police, but after a few minutes it had become clear that no police would come to quell the protests, and so the theater managers and audience had taken matters into their own hands. Lesbian couples, serious-looking film critics and curious bystanders who’d seen the commotion had joined together to create a human barrier, forcing the disruptors out of the Apollo.
The next day, Lilli had submitted to her editors her article on “Mädchen in Uniform.” Only a quarter of the article was taken up by her review of the movie, however; the rest of the article had become an account of her experience in the theater. She had written of the vileness with which the rightwing groups had disturbed the premiere, and the following complete lack of police action. Then, she had proceeded to connect this inaction to the weakness of the Weimar government in the face of organizations such as the Freikorps, comparing that to the persecution of lesbian and gay people. The article had concluded with, “The failure of the Weimar government to protect its citizens’ lives from being disrupted by rogue militias, and instead choosing to crack down on already vulnerable communities of homosexuals reflects upon the government's inability to govern properly. What I experienced in that theater is only a taste for the chaos that is bound to come our way.”
Upon reading her submission at the Dorian Gray, Lilli’s superior editors Anina and Imke had both refused to have it published out of fear of retribution and were about to send her home to rewrite the story when Frau Kästner had entered the room. The editor-in-chief of Garçonne was a tall woman of about forty, whose signature fur coat always rested elegantly on her shoulder. It was rumored that she’d fought in the Great War disguised as a man. She was also the most imposing woman Lilli had ever met.
In her husky voice, she had calmly asked, “What seems to be the matter here?” and Lilli had ceased the opportunity, pleading with her to publish the article.
“I believe what I wrote needs to be said,” she’d implored the editor-in-chief, “please let it go into print.”
Frau Kästner took the papers out of Lilli’s hands and began poring over the papers. She seemed to have finished her inspection within a few seconds and fixed her eyes on Ani and Imke.
“This goes into print,” she stated.
“But –– what if we get in trouble for this?” Imke had asked.
“If it does cause trouble… I’ll make sure it won’t fall on you,” Frau Kästner had said, disappearing behind the door.
And so the article had appeared on page seven of Garçonne’s December 1931 issue. Lilli had forgotten about it until that morning.
The sound of lively conversations that had resonated through the magazine’s office in the Dorian Gray only moments earlier ceased when Frau Kästner, clad in her fur coat, stepped into the room. There was a cacophony of greetings as she made her way to the head of the long table. Being the only one standing, she towered over the whole staff, and a tenseness hung in the air as everybody waited for her to speak. After a few moments her face adopted a satisfied expression and she took a step forward, folded her arms, and began speaking.
“Good evening Garconnes. I want to thank you for making it here today –– I know this depression is hitting us all hard and it can be difficult to show up for these meetings. You all have pressing responsibilities outside this room. But it was especially important for me to see all of you here today. In a few moments, the police will barge into the Dorian Gray and arrest me.”
Gasps emanated from all four corners of the table and Lilli could only shoot a look of despair at Greta before Frau Kästner continued.
“But that’s beside my point. What I want to talk about today is this magazine. Why are we part of Garçonne? Why do we make the trek all the way here only to toil at our typewriters? Why do we skip work and spend our scant money on U-Bahn tickets to get to Schöneberg? Why do we postpone dates with our girls? Why do we risk being ridiculed, ostracized and put in danger by our association to this magazine?
“It’s because the Garçonne validates our existence and catapults our voices onto the streets of Berlin and all of Germany. On the pages of this magazine, our homosexuality isn’t presented as a disease, but as a natural piece of what makes us whole and happy. Everything we publish, whether it’s an article giving advice on how to pick up girls in the Eldorado or a poem on the abuse we face on a daily basis, is evidence of that. Each one of you is here because you refuse to live in a world in which you are held down, gagged and killed by other citizens –– or the state –– because of your sexuality. Each word we add to the pages of this magazine chips at our oppressors and acts as a lifeline for people like us. Yesterday I received a letter from a woman in rural Karlsruhe who secretly acquires our monthly issues. She wrote, ‘This paper means everything to me; I feel I only live in your pages.’ It’s things like that which make us come to the Dorian Gray to produce Garçonne week after week.”
Frau Kästner paused for the first time and cheers of agreement oscillated from around the table. After a moment, she spoke again, but now her voice was lower and her expression dark.
“Our magazine is part of, and has contributed to, a new kind of culture which coats this city, a culture that has made living here, openly and happily, feasible for people like us. But all around us, I see movements that are poised to paint over––”
Surprised screams from clubbers had emanated from behind the curtains, and soon four policemen were barging into the room. They announced that they had come to arrest Frau Emilia Kästner for violating the Law for the Protection of Youth from Trash and Filth Writings. Frau Kästner identified herself and addressed the officers: “Give me just a minute. Then I’ll go with you.” There was something motherly, something utterly persuasive in her voice and it seemed to have worked on the officers, who held off on following through with their arrest just yet. She turned her attention back to the women at the table and Lilli felt Frau Kästner look directly at her. Tears welled up in Lilli’s eyes.
“I see movements that are poised to paint over what has been achieved. There’s the “trash and smut” law that the Reichstag passed back in ’26, the law they’re using to arrest me now, which continues to act as a vehicle to smother publications like ours. At the same time, as our dear Lilli pointed out so poignantly in her recent article, the government turns a blind eye on Freikorps, Nazis and other groups when they spew hate speech. Or when they attack us in the streets and in theaters. Or when they raid the offices of our magazines.”
Caught off-guard by being singled out by Frau Kästner, streams of tears began rolling down Lilli’s cheeks and she felt Greta’s arms wrap around her. The policemen were getting restless now and Frau Kästner was talking faster.
“Even our fellow magazines aren’t free of dangerous flaws. Most editors at the other homosexual magazines, such as ‘Die Freundin,’ are men, even when they’re sold as lesbian magazines. I want you to remember how extraordinary Garçonne is. How rare it is that our staff is made up only of women. How we operate independently, without being manipulated by big publishers. How we cover the corners of our world that have been hidden in the dark, and write sympathetically of those who society has yet come to accept. How our magazine links different classes and different cultures at a time when groups and politicians seek to drive wedges between people. How we dare to call out the Weimar government for its faults.
“I want you to remember that,” Frau Kästner slowed down and softened her tone, “we are at the vanguard of history.”
The sporadic cheers that had sprung up around the table transformed into a roar. The police officers finally moved towards Frau Kästner and grabbed her by the arms. She offered a final, impassioned gaze across the table, and allowed herself to be led away, disappearing behind the curtain. The room buzzed with a mix of goodbyes for Frau Kästner and insults for the officers. Greta tightened her hug around Lilli.
Bibliography
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