GLR March-April 2026

A tune often sung at club events was the gay anthem “ Das Lila Lied ” (The Lavender Song). The song opens with a lamentation on the criminalization and stigma of homosexu ality but retains a playful tone. The first verse expresses a familiar sentiment: “most of us are proud/ to be cut from a different cloth!” The chorus begins and ends with the phrase “we are just different from the others,” and the song concludes with a hopeful refrain: “then we won the same right/ we are no longer suffering—they must suffer us!” Even these short passages offer insight into the cul tural momentum behind queer liberation. De spite only intercourse between men being explicitly criminalized under Paragraph 175, the popularity of this song among lesbian and trans Germans suggests a common identifi cation and political motivation among many segments of the LGBT populace. However, just how “political” women’s clubs such as Damenklub Violetta were re mains contested. Historians, and certainly Hahm’s contemporaries, considered wo men’s clubs to be apolitical social groups. A 1925 article in Die Freundin , written by

catered to trans Berliners regardless of their gender presentation or sex assigned at birth. At this point, she was recognized as a cen tral figure of the broader trans community. Hahm’s coalition-building efforts were not immune from infighting and exclusion ary sentiments. A 1932 article written by a butch lesbian objected to the notion that masculine women such as herself were “transvestites” because they wished to re main women. She complained further about the presence of trans women at lesbian events, alleging that they would flirt with the cisgender women. (This conversation still occurs within queer spaces today.) Hahm ultimately caved to the pressure. After a few weeks, she began hosting events intended exclusively for cisgender lesbian women. But she continued to host events for trans Berliners as well, including balls, dances, and fashion shows. § A TTHISTIME , Hahm had begun her relation ship with her longtime partner Käthe Fleis chmann, who was Jewish. Together they

Lotte Hahm in 1927.

opened two establishments in a short period: the Monokel-Diele (Monocle Hall) in March 1931 and the Manuela Bar in Febru ary 1932. Despite both bars operating under Fleischmann’s name, they were huge steps forward for Hahm. While the Damenklub Violetta and similar groups created temporary spaces for queer Berliners, these were Hahm’s first permanent establishments, and they would take up residence in the lesbian scene alongside bars like the famous Eldorado. Unfortunately, their ownership of Monokel-Diele and the Manuela Bar was short-lived. Like many other Jewish-owned businesses in late 1932, the Monokel-Diele was vandalized by rioting Nazi brown shirts in an anti-Semitic attack against Fleischmann. She sold the business to avoid further attacks. When the Nazis rose to power the following year, Fleischmann was forced to sell her property and liquor license at a large financial loss. By spring 1933, the Nazi regime had banned queer publications and or dered the closure of all LGBT establishments. Over the next decade, the Nazis would destroy the networks and communities that queer Germans had created in the previous

BfM leader Friedrich Radszuweit and the magazine’s editor Aenne Weber, expressed frustration at the political passivity of Berlin’s lesbian scene. The article urged all homosexual Ger mans to unite under a common cause to combat Paragraph 175, which represented the marginalized status of all homosexuals. Other historians, such as Laurie Marhoefer, have argued that lesbian and trans clubs were intrinsically political due to their public nature. The Damenklub Violetta , while not explicitly fo cused on legal reform, aimed to provide a safe space that al lowed its members to interact as they saw fit. However, at the end of the decade, Hahm’s goals expanded to the creation of an explicitly political coalition of lesbian and trans Berliners. Weimar-era ideas about trans-ness were very different from those of today. Trans Germans referred to themselves using the word transvestit (transvestite). The term often conflated cross dressing, drag, and what we would call trans identity. Determin ing which category Hahm belonged to in retrospect is challenging (if not anachronistic), but examining her gender expression can offer greater insight into the era’s conceptions of gender. On at least one occasion, she used the name “Lothar,” and she twice referred to herself with the masculine form of the German word for “captain” in ads for the moonlight boat rides. However, in most situations, she used the feminine name “Lotte” and the fem inine form of words for titles such as “leader” and “friend.” This inconsistency could indicate experimentation, gender fluidity, or a dual identity as both a lesbian and a trans person. However she identified, Hahm aimed to create a unified les bian and trans movement. The club put out calls for trans or ganizing in Liebende Frauen in 1928, and Hahm reported to the magazine in 1929 that a small group had been meeting in her apartment. That October, Hahm led an organizing event held by the BfM that was attended by “approximately 60 ladies and gen tlemen.” By 1930, Hahm was heading an organization that

March–April 2026

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