Alexander Zinn’s book Maintöchter: Schwule, Lesben, Trans- und Intersexuelle in Frankfurt am Main 1933–1994, published in English as Main Daughters: Gay, Lesbian, Trans and Intersex People in Frankfurt am Main 1933–1994, offers a deeply researched and empathetic account of sexual minorities in one German city across the most turbulent decades of the twentieth century. Using Frankfurt am Main as a case study, Zinn tells a broader story of persecution, cautious liberalization, and eventual political and cultural awakening. The book is firmly grounded in social history, yet it never loses sight of the individuals whose lives were shaped by repression, resilience, and the constant negotiation between visibility and survival.
The title itself carries a quiet irony that runs through the entire work. By calling gay, lesbian, trans, and intersex people “Maintöchter,” daughters of the Main River, Zinn emphasizes their belonging to the city. They were not outsiders or transient figures, but sons and daughters of Frankfurt, deeply embedded in its social fabric. At the same time, the metaphor points to how poorly they were treated by their supposed civic family. Like stepchildren, they were often marginalized, monitored, or punished, their presence tolerated only under strict conditions. This tension between belonging and exclusion is one of the book’s central themes.
Zinn begins with the period of National Socialism, when homosexual men in particular were subjected to massive persecution under Paragraph 175 of the German penal code. Frankfurt, despite its reputation as a modern and cosmopolitan city, was no exception. Arrests, imprisonments, forced labor, and deportations to concentration camps destroyed lives and communities. Zinn does not reduce this period to statistics alone, but reconstructs networks, meeting places, and individual biographies to show how repression operated on a daily level. Even under these extreme conditions, the book reveals moments of defiance and persistence. Informal meeting points continued to exist, relationships were formed and maintained in secret, and some individuals found ways to resist total erasure, even if the risks were enormous.
The immediate postwar period did not bring the liberation many had hoped for. Zinn carefully dismantles the myth of 1945 as a clear moral turning point for sexual minorities. Paragraph 175 remained in force, and men persecuted by the Nazis were often still considered criminals rather than victims. Social stigma persisted, reinforced by conservative moral norms and a legal system that continued to police sexuality. Yet the book also shows how the atmosphere slowly began to shift. Frankfurt’s unique position as a media hub and international city contributed to the emergence of semi-public subcultures. Bars, clubs, and informal networks reappeared, creating fragile spaces of relative freedom.
By the 1950s, Frankfurt had gained a reputation as something of an Eldorado for gay and trans people, a perception that Zinn treats with deliberate nuance. On the one hand, the city offered more opportunities for anonymity, community, and experimentation than many smaller towns. On the other hand, these spaces existed under constant surveillance. Police raids, registration requirements, and administrative harassment were part of everyday life. Municipal authorities often adopted an ambivalent stance, oscillating between control and tacit tolerance. Subcultural niches were allowed to exist as long as they remained contained and did not challenge dominant norms too openly.
This ambivalence shaped the lived experiences of those involved. Zinn describes how many individuals cherished these limited freedoms, finding joy, love, and solidarity in environments that were far from ideal but still meaningful. At the same time, the book does not romanticize subcultural life. Social rejection, family estrangement, and internalized shame took a heavy toll. Some people managed to carve out stable lives, while others were worn down by isolation and constant fear. The history Zinn presents is therefore not a simple narrative of progress, but one marked by contradictions and uneven developments.
A decisive turning point in the book is the penal law reform of 1969, which partially decriminalized male homosexuality. Zinn situates this legal change within broader social transformations, including student movements, feminist activism, and shifting attitudes toward authority. In Frankfurt, these developments contributed to the emergence of a new lesbian and gay movement that was more visible, more political, and more confrontational than earlier forms of community life. Activists demanded recognition, legal equality, and an end to discrimination, moving beyond the strategy of quiet accommodation that had previously dominated.
Zinn pays particular attention to the diversity within these movements. Lesbian organizing followed its own trajectories, often intersecting with feminist politics, while trans and intersex individuals navigated a landscape shaped by medicalization and pathologization. The book highlights how their voices were frequently marginalized, even within queer spaces, yet also documents moments of alliance and mutual support. By extending the narrative to 1994, the year Paragraph 175 was finally abolished, Zinn underscores how long legal and social change took, and how recently many forms of injustice formally ended.
What makes Maintöchter especially compelling is its balance between structural analysis and human stories. Zinn draws on police files, court records, administrative documents, and personal testimonies to reconstruct a multifaceted history. This approach makes clear that state repression and social exclusion were not abstract forces, but concrete realities shaping everyday decisions and emotional lives. At the same time, the book insists on agency. Even under hostile conditions, people found ways to assert their dignity, build communities, and imagine different futures.
Ultimately, Maintöchter is not only a history of sexual minorities in Frankfurt, but also a reflection on the city itself. It reveals how urban spaces can function simultaneously as sites of oppression and possibility. Frankfurt appears as a place where control and tolerance coexisted uneasily, where freedom was often partial and conditional, yet still fiercely valued. Zinn’s work reminds readers that progress is neither linear nor guaranteed, and that the rights and spaces won by sexual minorities were the result of persistence, courage, and collective struggle. By reclaiming these histories, the book gives the Maintöchter and Maintsöhne of Frankfurt the recognition they were long denied, firmly placing them back into the story of the city they always belonged to.
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