The field of German studies has seen a recent boom in LGBTQ+ history. From reassessments of Paragraph 175 to biographies of icons such as Magnus Hirschfeld, the field has blossomed rapidly. Christopher Ewing's fabulous monograph The Color of Desire adds a new, important, and intersectional argument: that racism and antiracism were central to the development of queer politics in the Federal Republic of Germany. On the one hand, racism was present among queer activists in latent and virulent forms, ranging from othering and racialized desire to outright discrimination against queer, Muslim immigrants. In particular, the book emphasizes the growth of homonationalism, or a movement in which queer people embrace the idea that some nations can be more sexually progressive and accepting of queer identities than others. As a result, they end up discriminating against non-national groups perceived to be less progressive (typically Arab or Turkish Muslims) to gain themselves more rights and respectability as white, queer Europeans. On the other hand, queer people of color challenged these racist sentiments and actions by organizing to help queer minorities. Their experiences also played an important role in the development of a queer political coalition in Germany.
Structured in two halves, the first part of Ewing’s monograph (“An International Movement”) examines the international influences on queer politics in West Germany. One of the central questions Ewing poses here is: how did exoticization turn into racialization and discrimination? Chapter 1 addresses this question by telling the story of sex tourism and the changing nature of gay travel to North Africa and Asia. Prior to the 1970s, white gay men had been eager to visit more permissive vacation spots in North Africa and Asia, seen as Shangri-las for same-sex and racialized desire. Travel agencies and publishing houses even advertised deals to these places. In the 1970s, however, white Europeans began shying away from visiting their old haunts. In the wake of decolonization, Muslim majority governments clamped down on homosexual practices. This tension between racialized desire and Islamophobia never disappeared from queer politics.
The Iranian Revolution of 1979 prompted a new wave of queer organizing. The new extremist Islamist theocracy spelled disaster for gay rights. Chapter 2 therefore covers the internationalization of gay and lesbian organizing in West Germany in response to Iran's new regime. Other white queer Germans, instead of standing up for queer Iranians, latched onto the suppression of their gay counterparts in Iran to argue that Islam was incompatible with European culture. Some white queer Germans linked up in transnational networks, but their activism ultimately revolved around rescue and white savior complexes. In turn, their activism inadvertently reinforced hegemonic narratives about the exceptionalism of homosexual liberation in Europe.
Almost concurrent with the fallout of the Iranian Revolution was the AIDS crisis, the subject of chapter 3. The onset of the AIDS crisis prompted calls from right-wing politicians for draconian policing of queer men, immigrants, and sex workers. These xenophobic, racist, and homophobic proposals pushed activists into action. In a reversal of the Islamophobic arguments of a decade before, now white queer activists viewed immigrants sympathetically, if only to save themselves from the same harsh measures. The result was a new antiracist and queer coalition. Black women, white lesbians, and white gay men formed unexpected alliances during this period to combat discriminatory AIDS measures. Their efforts to oppose government AIDS policies led to further organization on behalf of asylum-seekers and immigrants. At the same time, it did not lead to fundamental changes in the white leadership of major gay (male) organizations. More substantive activism came from Black and lesbian organizations.
The final two chapters comprise the second part, “Activism and the State.” The 1990s, the period covered in chapter 4, were a time of renewed homophobia and transphobia in a newly reunified Germany. Neo-Nazis, primarily in former East German towns, began attacking queer people and people of migrant backgrounds. Instead of combating the far-right, however, some queer activists began blaming young, Muslim men for perpetrating violence against the LGBTQ+ community. How did German queer activists make this shift so rapidly? Ewing attributes this trend to the politics of normalization. Queer activists had increasingly embraced conforming to heteronormative norms as a way of gaining more rights in Germany. The trade-off many of them made was racializing homophobia. At the same time, other queer activists continued to engage in projects addressing multicultural diversity, promoting violence prevention, abolishing Paragraph 175, protecting homosexual partnerships, and diminishing sex tourism. By the 2000s, as chapter 5 shows, Islamophobia was deeply embedded in gay politics in Germany. Far-right parties, such as the Alternative for Germany, even had openly gay leaders in their ranks. At the same time, antiracist activists continued their efforts to be more inclusive and to “rescue” queer racial minorities in Germany.
Ewing's epilogue returns to his initial quandary: how does one make sense of the effects of racism and antiracism on queer politics? How do we account for the growing popularity of the far-right Alternative for Germany among white queer Germans? The Color of Desire does not have a clearly defined narrative arc, so readers cannot expect straightforward answers. That is a strength of Ewing's study. He entangles seemingly separate threads such as sex tourism, Black activism, and queer fascists into an ever-widening web. He also provides refreshing counternarratives. Scholars have long argued that postwar West Germany remained racist, even when its politicians disavowed the racist Nazi policies of the past. Ewing demonstrates that antiracist work was just as prevalent as racist policies and attitudes. In a moment when the far right threatens several Western states–and indeed, queer and racialized communities—Ewing's book reminds us that important work can be done on the ground to aid affected people and undo harmful assumptions. Ewing demonstrates that the color of desire does not have to be whiteness; it can be a rainbow.
