Paragraph 175 prisoners in Auschwitz

The transcription of the podcast

When we talk about prisoners in concentration camps—including Auschwitz—who were marked with pink triangles, we must begin by placing it within a broader historical context. Why were homosexual people—and here we are talking almost exclusively about men—imprisoned in concentration camps in Nazi Germany?

The persecution of homosexuals was not an invention of Hitler or the Third Reich. Repression against gay men dates back to the formation of a unified Germany. In 1871, a new criminal code was introduced, and with it, Paragraph 175. This law criminalized so-called "unnatural indecency," which referred to sexual relations between two men—or between a man and an animal. So already at this point, male homosexuality was being equated with bestiality. The 1871 criminal code established the criminalization of homosexuality, representing a step backwards compared to other developments in Europe at the time.
Some German states, influenced by the events of the late 18th and early 19th centuries—particularly the French Revolution and the Napoleonic Wars—had introduced far more lenient approaches to homosexuality. Some, like the Kingdom of Bavaria, had effectively decriminalized it. But after Germany was unified, all these more tolerant regional policies were replaced with the harsher federal law—Paragraph 175.

That law remained virtually unchanged until the mid-20th century. Even after World War II, it was still in force in both West and East Germany. It was only in 1967 that East Germany repealed it, and two years later, some limited reforms were introduced in the West. It wasn’t until 1994 that Paragraph 175 was finally abolished throughout all of Germany. That moment marked the beginning of a legal path toward equality for homosexual people—or as we might say today, non-hetero normative individuals.

It’s important to note something right away, as it helps us understand the unique situation of homosexual prisoners in concentration camps: Paragraph 175 applied only to men. It did not apply to women in either Germany or the Reich. The only partial exception was in Austria, where some laws did target women. But after Austria was annexed into the so-called Greater German Reich in 1938, the law was standardized, and Paragraph 175 was enforced exclusively against men.

Now, there are occasional references in official Nazi documents to women being lesbians. But this was never cited as the primary reason for arrest. At most, it was added as a side note in their case files. For men, however, being homosexual was the reason for arrest. In the Weimar Republic—after World War I—laws were relatively liberal. Not everywhere, of course—small towns and rural areas remained conservative—but cities like Berlin became known for their multiculturalism, their social liberalism, and for embracing bold, avant-garde artists. Berlin was home to a thriving gay night life scene. This, in fact, later became a challenge for the Gestapo, because they had to infiltrate these clubs and monitor what was happening inside. But in the context of 1920s and early 1930s Berlin, homosexuality wasn’t widely seen as shameful or criminal. Of course, that doesn’t mean everyone was accepting. Conservative values remained deeply rooted in German society. Right-wing publications—such as Völkischer Beobachter in later years—often published articles equating homosexuality with serious crime. Gay men were frequently portrayed as a threat, and antisemitic conspiracy theories claimed that homosexuality was a “Jewish tool” for corrupting the German people.

Even before the First World War, a German sex researcher—Magnus Hirschfeld, who was himself both Jewish and gay—had tried to educate the public about homosexuality. He wanted people to understand it as simply a relationship between two people, and nothing to be feared or condemned.
In 1897, Hirschfeld founded the Scientific-Humanitarian Committee. Its main goal was public education, along with international cooperation. Conferences, publications, and meetings were organized to show that homosexuality was something ordinary—that two adults loving each other caused no harm.
After the first world war, he continued this work, and in 1919 opened the Institute for Sexual Research in Berlin. The institute explored issues of sexuality and human intimacy, with homosexuality being one of its primary areas of focus. And it was received surprisingly well—at least within the liberal culture of the Weimar Republic.

The Institute gave hope that one day homosexuality would no longer be demonized—and that Paragraph 175 might be repealed altogether. Despite the out ward liberalism of the time, however, the law remained in effect. In 1912, Hirschfeld and his colleagues successfully blocked a proposed expansion of Paragraph 175 that would have included women. In that sense, lesbian women remained legally “safe.” They weren’t subject to arrest, interrogation, or imprisonment—unlike men, who remained criminalized.

That hope came to an end in 1933, when Adolf Hitler came to power and became Chancellor. From the beginning, Nazi propaganda portrayed gay men as depraved, as criminals, as a threat to the German people. The issue of homosexuality in the Third Reich was, however, not so clear-cut. Despite the propaganda, many gay men were actually drawn to the Nazi Party. They admired its militarism and its ideal of hyper masculinity, as embodied in organizations like the SA and SS. Still, homosexual men were officially seen as degenerates. Antisemitic rhetoric of ten linked Jews and homosexuality to reinforce a sense of moral and cultural danger. In Nazi ideology, homosexuality was among the gravest threats to the so-called Volk "folk", or the German nation. The reason was simple: a homosexual man would not father children. And since the creation of a so-called "master race" depended on increasing the birthrate, sexual relationships had to be between men and women—with the goal of producing offspring.

Interestingly, leading Nazi ideologues—like Hitler and Himmler—didn’t see female homosexuality as much of a threat. On the one hand, it was dismissed as just a phase, as typical female behavior. On the other hand, it was assumed that a proper German woman—an Aryan— woman—would never be interested in such things. Moreover, lesbianism didn’t prevent child birth.

The image of the homosexual man, however—effeminate, unfit for military service, incapable of making tough decisions—was deeply entrenched. This figure stood in stark contrast to the ideal Aryan male: tough, disciplined, ready to fight and die for the Father land. As a result, the Nazi regime’s propaganda against homosexuality wasn’t just constant—it intensified. Homosexuality was linked with other so-called enemies of the nation: Jews, communists, and liberals. Wherever the regime could attach homosexuality to another threat—it did.

What’s important to understand when we talk about the time of the Third Reich is that this wasn’t just about propaganda. This ideology also meant the real persecution of homosexual men. On the one hand, we have the Night of the Long Knives, and the attack on homosexual individuals within the Nazi Party itself. But beyond that, homosexual men were being arrested and imprisoned in concentration camps throughout the Third Reich.

It’s also worth pointing out that during the Night of the Long Knives, homosexuality was used as a tool in political power struggles. That purge—the elimination of the top leadership of the SA, led by Ernst Röhm—was justified by the claim that Röhm was gay and that he was corrupting his men, seducing and morally weakening young SA members, and so on. This became a convenient pretext and a useful justification for dismantling the SA leadership. Because in truth, it wasn’t Röhm’s homosexuality that was the problem—it was his political and military ambitions.

Very quickly aftert his so-called Röhm Putsch the first official guidelines for the arrest of homosexuals were introduced. These first directives were issued as early as July 1934. The first arrests and deportations to concentration camps took place by October of that same year. So we see that it didn’t take long for the Nazi regime to move from simply talking about how "bad" homosexuality was, to actually taking action.

In 1935, Paragraph 175 was expanded with two subsections—A and B. These created a gradation of homosexual acts. The authorities began to distinguish how those acts had occurred—whether it was a one-time incident, or likely to be repeated; how intimate or emotional the relationships were. These aspects were described in detail, and based on them, subsections A and B were applied.

The fight against homosexuality became a very significant issue in the Third Reich. It became, in fact, a priority. In 1936, the Reich Central Office for the Combating of Homosexuality and Abortion was established. Here we can see how two perceived threats to population growth were linked together. On the one hand, male homosexuality—for obvious reasons. On the other, abortion—because the termination of pregnancies by Aryan women was viewed as deeply undesirable and was punished accordingly. Of course, before this campaign could expand nationwide, the Nazis had to first purge homosexuality from their own ranks, from within the Nazi Party and its affiliated organizations. There was, in fact, a special unit dedicated to that internal task. But from 1936 onward, the persecution became a state-wide effort.

I’d also like to mention one particular case where presumed homosexuality was used for political manipulation—the case of Blomberg and Fritsch. These were two members of the General Staff—commanders of the German Army—who were seen as obstacles to Hitler’s plans for military reform and for pursuing his foreign policy goals, which ultimately centered on hastening the start of war.

Werner von Fritsch was accused of being homosexual. Authorities even brought in a man who was known to provide sexual services to other men in various seedy locations—such as public rest rooms at train stations. He claimed that yes, it was Werner von Fritsch with whom he had engaged in sexual acts. Of course, it later turned out that the evidence against Fritsch had been fabricated. The witness had been persuaded by the Gestapo to make his statement. It turned out that he had confused von Fritsch with another military man who had a similar name—but it was not Werner von Fritsch. In 1938, even though he was formally cleared and rehabilitated, Fritsch resigned from his position.

As for Werner von Blomberg—his down fall came from a different scandal. He was accused in connection with the so-called immoral past of his new wife. It was alleged that she had previously worked as a prostitute. And it was deemed in appropriate that a general should marry a woman with such a background. He, too, was dismissed from his post. This cleared the path for Hitler to place his own loyal men in the highest positions of military command, allowing him to conduct the kind of war preparations and foreign policy he wanted.

So here again we see how homosexuality—or even the mere accusation of it—was used to discredit someone, to cast them in an extremely negative light. And even when these accusations were eventually withdrawn, the damage had already been done. When it comes to arrests, it's worth noting that after 1938, the situation changed—not only in the Reich itself, but also in Europe more broadly. That’s because Paragraph 175, in its German legal interpretation, began to be enforced in Austria as well. In principle, Paragraph 175 was binding only within the territory of the Reich. In occupied countries, it was not officially enforced. It is estimated that around 50,000 men—Germans, Austrians, or in general anyone who fell under the jurisdiction of Paragraph 175—were convicted of homosexuality. Of these, approximately 5,000 to 15,000 were imprisoned in concentration camps. Sometimes, the average estimate given is about 10,000.
Let me explain why these numbers are difficult to pin down. German researchers estimate that two-thirds of these individuals perished. So, as we can see, the persecution of homosexuals began almost immediately after Hitler came to power. And, paradoxically, it actually decreased somewhat once the war began. This was due to a number of factors.

First of all, the so-called "homosexual problem" had already been “dealt with,” in the regime's eyes. The mass arrests had occurred during peace time—when they could be made a national priority. During wartime, such arrests did still happen—but they were less frequent. Interestingly, there was a period of temporary tolerance during the Berlin Olympic Games. The Third Reich was eager to present itself in the best possible light on the international stage. So, for the duration of the Games, the persecution of homosexuals—particularly foreign visitors—was suspended. A certain number of gay clubs were reopened. For those few weeks, the repression eased, and arrests declined. Of course, this lull was only temporary—made possible by the fact that a wave of arrests had already taken place before the Games, and were resumed afterward. But in the eyes of the international public, Nazi Germany didn’t appear as frightening as it really was. Visitors from abroad, particularly in Berlin, could feel relatively safe—at least for a short while.

Nazi ideology was rooted in racial criteria. The situation looked different before September 1939, and after the outbreak of the war. But was the terror system focused mainly on German citizens—in other words, Aryans, from the ideological point of view—or did Paragraph 175 also affect other groups?

In fact, Paragraph 175 stemmed from racial premises, because homosexual relations were seen as a threat to population growth. As a result, all Aryans—Germans, Austrians, and interestingly, also the Dutch—were subject to Paragraph 175. In the Netherlands, the German criminal code was enforced, so Dutch citizens were treated the same as Germans under this law. In contrast, in occupied territories, Paragraph 175 was generally not enforced. For example, in Poland or France, there were no arrests directly based on Paragraph 175.

If we consider that both Himmler and Hitler believed homosexuality weakened a given nation, then from their perspective, it was actually desirable that Slavs and other so-called “races” had as many homosexuals as possible. That would mean they wouldn’t reproduce, they wouldn’t have children, and their nations would grow weaker and degenerate—making them easier to defeat and control. So the regime largely turned a blind eye to what was happening in the occupied countries. It’s also important to point out that the Czech territories, which were incorporated into the Reich after the Munich Agreement, also came under the scope of Paragraph 175. Czechs who accepted Reich citizen ship were treated as Germans, so to speak. If we come across records of a Czech arrested under Paragraph 175, it was most likely because he had accepted the status of a Reich citizen. Here, another crime came in to play: the so-called "racial defilement"—Rassenschande. If a Reich citizen engaged in sexual relations with someone from a conquered nation—say, in Poland—and the act was homosexual, then he was punished not only under Paragraph 175 for same-sex relations with a man, but also under the charge of Rassenschande, for defiling the race. He was seen as having associated with someone considered inferior. Racial defilement typically referred to relations between men and women, but in the context of Paragraph 175, it’s important to note that such cases occurred as well. So even though Paragraph 175 didn’t directly apply to people in the occupied countries—aside from those two exceptions, like the Sudetenland and the Netherlands—it could still affect their lives. If someone from an occupied country had a sexual relationship with a member of the Reich—a representative of the so-called master race—then both were held accountable. The Reich citizen was punished under both Paragraph 175 and for racial defilement. This often ended in either execution or deportation to a concentration camp. So in such cases, the punish mental so indirectly fell on the person from the occupied nation. As a rule, however, Paragraph 175 applied only to Aryans, only within Reich territory—except for the noted exceptions of the Netherlands and part of the Czech lands. Of course, it also applied to Aryans who were in occupied countries. But the local population—the conquered peoples—were not directly subject to it.

We’ve already discussed that the most intense persecution of homosexuals—of gay men—occurred before the outbreak of the Second World War. And most of those imprisoned under Paragraph 175 were sent to what we might call the "old camps," those located inside the Old Reich. In Auschwitz, which later became the symbol of the entire concentration camp system, the number of men marked with the pink triangle was very small. So, what do we know about this group of prisoners?

When it comes to Auschwitz, we’re faced with a double challenge. Yes, there is no doubt that homosexuals were imprisoned in Auschwitz. Even if they weren’t marked with the pink triangle, statistically, they must have been there. Recent research shows that around 136 prisoners in Auschwitz were homosexual. Documents directly confirm 77 prisoners who were registered under Paragraph 175.But this raises some complications. Among the German prisoners brought to Auschwitz from other camps, it sometimes happened that they had originally been arrested under Paragraph 175, but in Auschwitz were categorized as political prisoners. This can even be seen in camp photographs—known as "mug shots"— where prisoners we know were homosexuals, based on the lists of new arrivals, appear with the designation for political prisoners. There were cases where prisoners changed their official category — like Karl Gorath, who was brought from Neuengamme in 1943. There, he had been imprisoned as a homosexual, but in Auschwitz, he was recorded as a political prisoner. Somehow, he managed to arrange for that change in designation. That’s the first issue. The second is that many of the 136 homosexual prisoners I mentioned had been arrested as “asocial” or criminal prisoners. So their camp symbol wasn’t a pink triangle—it was black or green. The real problem is that the documents in the Auschwitz archive represent only a tiny fraction of all the records that were created during the camp’s operation. As a result, we are simply not able to identify every homosexual prisoner who had been sentenced under Paragraph 175 and ended up in Auschwitz. It’s very likely that some were overlooked, and we may never know that they were here at all.

On the other hand, we can compare our records with documents from other camps—especially camps inside the Old Reich. Among the 77 confirmed Paragraph 175 prisoners registered in Auschwitz, 76 were Germans. So we can assume that those marked with the pink triangle in Auschwitz were Germans from the Old Reich—perhaps Germans or Austrians, possibly Dutch or Czech. But as I mentioned, some of them may have been marked differently. And then there’s the issue of Polish prisoners. As I said before, Paragraph 175 did not apply to Polish citizens. But that doesn’t mean there were no homosexual Poles in the camp. Of course there were. But they were registered as political prisoners—because that was the standard category applied. The vast majority of Polish inmates were recorded as political prisoners. It was rare for them to be labeled as criminal or a social. There are no known Polish prisoners in Auschwitz who were marked with the pink triangle. So when we speak about Auschwitz, we can say that the number of these prisoners was very small—especially in comparison to other camps. For instance, resistance data from January 20, 1944, reported that among the 80,839 inmates in Auschwitz at that time, only 22 were marked with the pink triangle. When we compare Auschwitz with other camps in the Reich, we have to mention Sachsenhausen, where around 1,000 prisoners marked with the pink triangle were held at various stages in the camp’s history. Given that number, it’s no surprise that Sachsenhausen was sometimes called “the Auschwitz of homosexuals.”It served as a kind of punishment camp for them. They were usually sent to the harshest labor assignments—in the brickworks, in the penal labor commando. Due to the extremely heavy work extracting clay, the brutal abuse by kapos and SS guards, executions, and many suicides, a great number of them did not survive the camp.

In general, homosexual prisoners—like Jews, for example—were sent to perform very hard labor. In Mittelbau-Dora, during the construction of the V1 and V2 rockets, we also find evidence of homosexual prisoners. Over 800 of them, in fact—making it the second-largest group of homosexual prisoners after Sachsenhausen. So in Mittelbau-Dora, and also in Dachau, homosexual prisoners were held. Almost 600 such individuals have been identified in Dachau over the course of the camp’s 12 years of operation. And in other camps—like Buchenwald, Ravensbrück, Neuengamme, and Flossenbürg—we can also find records of homosexual inmates. But if we look at the overall numbers, they still made up a very small percentage of all prisoners.

Usually, we’re talking about less than 1% of the camp population. And if we take into account that two-thirds of that already small percent age perished, we can begin to understand how these prisoners were treated, and how they were perceived. And it wasn’t just the guards or kapos—fellow prisoners also often saw homosexuals as a lesser category of human being. In the camp hierarchy, they were ranked nearly on the same level as the Jews. So their situation was, without exaggeration, one of the most desperate of all.

When we speak about the prisoner structure at Auschwitz and look at the camp hierarchy, we need to remember that Auschwitz was established on occupied territory, and the first prisoners were Poles. That’s why we often say that German prisoners—whether criminals or others—held a certain privileged position within the camp hierarchy and were more likely to be appointed as functionary prisoners. Do we know how, within this slightly different camp hierarchy at Auschwitz—shaped by its unique history—prisoners marked with pink triangles were positioned? Or are there simply too few sources to outline that part of the history?

That’s a very interesting and, I would say, multi-layered question. Because if we take into account that many homosexual prisoners were later registered in Auschwitz as political prisoners, then at the very beginning of the camp's existence, they would not have had access to the roles typically assigned to criminal prisoners. It’s also worth noting that in prisoner memoirs, we often come across statements like, “That block elder with the green triangle was a homosexual—he used to call other prisoners to his block and exploit them sexually, or in exchange for certain privileges, they would perform sexual acts for him.”But it’s very important to distinguish between homosexuality and homosexual behavior.

Often, it’s difficult to determine from such accounts whether the prisoner in question was actually homosexual—meaning born that way—or simply someone who, after prolonged confinement and lack of access to women, sought to satisfy his sexual urges however he could. So when we hear about a functionary prisoner having same-sex relations, that doesn’t necessarily mean he was homosexual. In the early years of all camps—including Auschwitz, especially considering the very small number of Paragraph 175 prisoners—homosexuals did not have access to functionary roles at all. Later, that changed somewhat. For instance, in Flossenbürg, we know of homosexual functionary prisoners who served as kapos in various work units. But that was toward the end of the war, in 1944 or 1945. At Auschwitz, however, it seems that openly homosexual functionary prisoners—those marked with a pink triangle—did not exist. That’s difficult to confirm, partly because of the lack of documentation, and also because of the enduring taboo surrounding these individuals. Karl Gorath, whom we’ve already mentioned, was registered in Auschwitz as a political prisoner. At one point during his time there, he did serve as a block elder—but not as a prisoner with a pink triangle, rather as one with a red triangle. This was also during a later stage in the camp’s history—not the early years between 1940 and 1943, when most of the functionary roles were held by German criminal prisoners. As for homosexual prisoners in general, of course we can’t rule out that some may have been functionaries. We just can’t identify them by name. This is also because many, as I said, were registered either as criminal or a social prisoners. So when we hear of a functionary prisoner who had homosexual relations with others, it doesn’t automatically mean he was homosexual. But in the oral history passed down by survivors, such prisoners are often viewed that way.

The same applies to women. Female prisoners sometimes mention block elders or kapos who were said to be lesbians. But again, the same issue arises: we don’t know whether they genuinely had those sexual preferences, or whether these behaviors stemmed purely from a need to satisfy sexual desire. That’s why this is a very difficult question to answer definitively. As you can see, there are many factors at play, and it’s not possible to provide one clear answer.

Do survivor testimonies include stories about prisoners with pink triangles in Auschwitz? Or, because this group was so small—within the massive scale of the camp, where tens of thousands were registered—are they virtually invisible?

Yes, that’s true. Occasionally, such information appears, though it usually concerns prisoners who had spent time in other camps—either before or after Auschwitz—located within the Reich. In those other camps, such prisoners were more visible. In Auschwitz, due to the reasons we discussed earlier—and especially due to their very small number—they were not frequently mentioned. What is often mentioned, though, are the homosexual behaviors of functionary prisoners.

It’s important to note that many prisoners held deep prejudices against homosexuals. The memoirs that do mention the mare generally quite negative. These men were often stigmatized as perverse or deviant criminals. I think this comes primarily from the fact that inmates often remembered criminal or functionary prisoners who committed abuses. These included rape, sexual exploitation, and especially abuse of young prisoners—so-called pipels —who, in exchange for protection or food, performed various tasks for older, higher-ranking prisoners, including sexual acts.

There is documented evidence of young newly arrived prisoners actively seeking protection from older functionary inmates. In return for bread, for being placed in a better work unit, or for basic care, they would engage in sexual acts. If these prisoners were caught, they were punished—often with flogging, confinement in a standing cell, or sometimes even death. But it’s difficult to determine whether they were truly homosexual, or whether they were simply trying to survive the camp. And I believe we shouldn’t judge such actions at all—because unless we were there ourselves, we cannot understand what that survival meant.
As for the memoirs that mention homosexual prisoners—as I said, there are very few. They tend to be negative. And most importantly, there are very, very few written testimonies or statements from the homosexual prisoners themselves. These prisoners rarely contacted the museum after the war. One of the few who did was Karl Gorath—already mentioned earlier. He described how, during his time in Auschwitz, he be friended two Polish prisoners. He even fell in love with one of them. He said he experienced a beautiful love in Auschwitz. Later, he was deported to Mauthausen—he had arrived in Auschwitz from Neuengamme in 1943. After the war, he returned to Auschwitz. He learned that the two men he had developed close bonds with had both died in the camp. He chose to commemorate them by leaving a bouquet of flowers. In his memoir, he wrote that he was deeply moved—because, and this may shock some people—he said that this was the happiest time in his life: the time he spent with his beloved in Auschwitz.

And if we consider that he was a homosexual prisoner who, in the camp hierarchy, stood at the very bottom—only reclassified as a political prisoner through a clever move—then we see just how difficult their situation truly was. They were under threat not only from the camp authorities or other functionary prisoners, but also from the general inmate population. I fit had become known that they were gay, no one would have protected them. Because unfortunately, prejudice against homosexuals was widespread not just in the Third Reich—but across Europe.

The fact that many countries did not criminalize homosexuality didn’t mean that gay people were accepted as full members of society. They were still seen as perverse, as people doing something wrong in the dark, and not as individuals deserving of respect. We have to keep in mind that prejudice against homosexuals in the 1930s and 40s was alive across the continent. It’s worth adding—thought his steps a bit into the postwar period—that after the liberation of the camps, the American, British, and French administrations insisted that homosexual prisoners continue to serve their sentences under Paragraph 175. Many people who had survived concentration camps and had been marked with the pink triangle were later sent to prison. Many were forced to go into hiding. This continued until the late 1960s—when, as mentioned earlier, Paragraph 175 was abolished in East Germany. In West Germany, it was heavily liberalized, so to speak.

But up until the end of the 1960s, no one spoke of homosexual prisoners. They were not considered victims of the concentration camps. And in some ways, I feel that their suffering still hasn’t been fully acknowledged. The truth is that serious research in to homosexual prisoners in concentration camps only began about 30 years ago. In Germany, perhaps a little earlier—but it entered the academic mainstream only quite recently.

There are few documents. The subject was long taboo. There are very few survivor testimonies. And beyond that, the shame and persecution that these people endured did not encourage them to speak—either to scholars or journalists. Very few ever broke through that wall of fear and shame to tell their stories.
Studying homosexual prisoners in the camps—particularly men, not to mention women—is incredibly difficult. It requires far more time, commitment, and labor than the study of any other prisoner group.

We know from the documents how many men were imprisoned in Auschwitz under Paragraph 175. Does the overall mortality rate in the camps—earlier we mentioned about 60%—apply here as well?

Yes. Of the 77 men we know about, 43 died, 17 were transferred to other camps, and for 32, we have no further information. So they may have survived, or they may have perished. That two-thirds statistic certainly applies here in the context of Auschwitz. Now, we can ask: did they die because they were homosexual, or was it simply due to the living conditions in the camp itself? The fact that the statistics align with those from camps in the Old Reich doesn’t necessarily mean they died because of their sexuality—but it doesn’t rule that out either. We are talking here about a difficult and complex history. But it’s important to speak about these persecutions, especially because of their particular nature. And perhaps also because, among the huge number of people imprisoned in the camps, they made up a very small group—so few that hardly anyone is left to tell their story.

I believe it is absolutely right to do so. Because if we talk about victims, we should talk about all victims. I’m very glad I had the chance to speak here about homosexual prisoners in Auschwitz—and not only about what they went through during the war, but also after the war. I hope that those who listen to this podcast will look at these people differently. That they will see them simply as victims of Nazism—not just as pink triangles, but as human beings who suffered under a criminal ideology.