BERLIN In central Berlin, the tree-lined area next to Nollendorfplatz plaza is just as lively now as it was a century ago.
In the midst of the city’s vibrant gay nightlife, which served as the inspiration for the musical Cabaret, Christopher Isherwood authored novels detailing the rise of the Nazis.
In addition to the city’s main yearly parade this weekend, the neighborhood hosts its own smaller-scale LGBTQ+ Pride festival every summer.
More than 200 Pride events are happening in Germany this year, and this is just one of them. However, many Pride attendees are afraid for their safety because far-right extremist groups are holding anti-Pride protests.
Georg Schmidt, 62, is enjoying a beverage as the street party begins and says he’s glad it’s a laid-back gathering. He claims that last month, he went to another local pride parade in the Marzahn district across town, and the atmosphere was hostile.
“To protect us against anti-Pride demonstrations, there was a significant police presence. Schmidt claims that the only reason we felt secure was because the cops kept us apart.
The far-right organizations that organized the counter-demonstration were labeled as violent and extreme by Germany’s domestic intelligence agency. The Center for Monitoring, Analysis and Strategy, an organization that tracks extremism, said that it is one of 17 extreme-right anti-Pride protests that have occurred this year. Due of threats, some communities have even canceled Pride.
According to Sabine Volk, a researcher at the University of T bingen’s Institute for Research on Far Right Extremism, these groups draw young males who uphold what they refer to as traditional family values—a sense of pride that has little to do with rainbow flags.
“The key slogan is that the German flag and Germany itself is already colorful enough,” Volk asserts. “And the overall message is that queer life does not have a place in Germany.”
However, those who are picky about flags are not limited to far-right radicals.
During Pride month, which takes place in Germany every year from June 28 to July 27, the rainbow flag will no longer be flown above the parliamentary building, according to Julia Klckner, the new president of the German parliament and a member of Chancellor Friedrich Merz’s conservative party. She has also ordered parliamentarians to remove LGBT flags and stickers from their office doors and banned parliamentary public servants from attending Pride in an official capacity.
Many people have taken offense with Merz’s statement that “the Bundestag is not a circus tent” as he expressed support for the rule at Germany’s parliament, the Bundestag, when speaking on public broadcaster ARD.
Merz supports his colleague’s claim that events having a political agenda cannot be supported by the lower chamber, which must remain impartial.
Nyke Slawik, a politician for the opposition Green Party, blasted the action. “Declaring the rainbow a political symbol is highly problematic” stating that “queer people are not an ideology; they are people!” Slawik informed ZDF, a public broadcaster.
Slawik contends that more and more people are in need of protection. Since 2010, the number of documented queerphobic hate crimes in Germany has nearly doubled, according to the country’s federal police, who also think that most of these crimes go undetected.
There is no party political difference on the matter; Merz’s own party has criticized his word choice. Some members of his party are still learning the lingo, according to Snke Siegmann, chair of the Christian Democrats’ LGBTQ+ Association.
“If you say queer in my party, most people take a deep breath and say: ‘Oh, that’s a left-wing term,'” Siegmann watches. Since Merz’s “circus tent” remarks, he claims to have had conversations with him.
“We explained to him what queer really means and two days later when asked in Parliament about LBGTQ+ hate crimes and what his government will do about them, Merz actually used the term queer,” Siegmann claims.
Every month of the year, rainbow flags fly over the Nollendorfplatz region. However, Chris Kelly, a local, claims that the atmosphere is not as “live and let live” as it used to be. He just launched a store selling expensive clothing made of industrial-strength rubber. He claims that although he has a large clientele and that business is going well, finding space for the shop was nearly difficult.
“We found plenty of suitable spaces to rent and our finances are solid, but a lot of landlords rejected us, saying they didn’t want people like us,” Kelly recalls. “Real estate agents had warned us, but I was flabbergasted to encounter such prejudice in Berlin’s queerest, gayest neighborhood.”
Romeo and Romeo, a homosexual pub whose owner was attacked last month, is right down the street from Kelly’s store. Kelly claims he frequently hears about attacks on members of the LGBTQ+ community and that he himself receives more verbal abuse now than he did in the past.
“I’m almost 40 and have seen so much progress like equal marriage,” says Kelly. However, a change is occurring. Hatred toward those like me is once again becoming commonplace.
Kelly notes that the renowned nightclub Eldorado, which was just a few doors down the opposite direction, was shut down by the Nazis in 1933 and its homosexual patrons were subsequently sent to concentration camps.
As Berlin’s main Pride parade approaches, the city police say they have received a permit request for a counterdemonstration protest “against Pride terror and identity disorders.”
Berlin’s transport authority decked the Bundestag subway station stop in rainbow colors in response to the Bundestag president’s decision not to fly the rainbow flag above parliament this year. The statement on Instagram said, “SoourBundestag is ready for Pride.”
Kelly exhorts people to go to Pride and confront a new wave of far-right extremism. Unlike Isherwood, he has no wish to bid Berlin and the area surrounding Nollendorfplatz farewell.
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