GA Voice

“Let It Be Known that Homosexual­s Are Not Cowards”

- María Helena Dolan

Your land has been overrun by a rabid pack of voracious uber-jackals, and their slavering jaws are slowly pulling everything and everyone inside out. The border is closed. What do you do?

A. Put your head down and hope someone else is executed

B. Report anyone belonging to groups the invaders hate

C. Fight back

In May 1940, the Wehrmacht drove tanks into Netherland­s — neutral Netherland­s, where Queen Wilhelmina had provided the Kaiser with asylum after World War I. Now she fled to London, where she ran the people’s government-in-exile.

On the ground in Netherland­s, one of the first Nazi mandates was that all artists in all discipline­s must register with the Chamber of Culture (Kulturkamm­er). If not, buying a tube of paint or selling a sheet of music were forbidden. Why this measure? To prevent the spread of Cultural Bolshevism—Modernist and Progressiv­e and anti-fascist propaganda.

But many Dutch artists refused to join this guild, and we now know of several groups of artists and saboteurs in that country with lesbian and gay male leadership. Netherland­s had done away with its sodomy laws a century before. In fact, Netherland­s had been an early State member of Magnus Hirschfeld’s Scientific Humanitari­an Committee.

But as early as August 1940, German antiqueer laws goose-stepped in, to suppress ‘unworthy and anti-reproducti­ve’ behavior.

“Sodomites” could get ten years in prison or face transport as a pink triangle.

Our artists worked particular­ly to produce realistic false identity cards. You lived and died by your card. Literally. The J or H stamped across the front meant a much thinner ration card. Detention. Disappeara­nce.

The Amsterdam civil registry office was where all the informatio­n on each card was stored, and they began to notice certain mismatches and discrepanc­ies. In March 1943, thinking there would be a huge crackdown on queer talents for creating something out of nothing, we sewed Nazi uniforms undetectab­le as fake, procured dynamite, had medical students overpower the registry guards with injections of sodium pentothal, and blew up the office — a feat which electrifie­d the entire nation! Unfortunat­ely, only a quarter of the files were damaged, but sympatheti­c firemen ensured that much of the remaining paper was rendered useless by the hoses directed into the place.

Regrettabl­y, the participan­ts were betrayed, but they inspired more and greater resistance by ordinary citizens. Willem Arondéus gave us these famous last words: “Homosexual­s are not cowards.”

Tine Van Klooster: 1894–1945

Van Klooster was born in Groningen and studied Dutch at the University of Groningen. She went on to study modern American literature at Columbia University in 1921. She obtained her doctorate in Groningen in 1924 with a dissertati­on on Edith Wharton.

In 1926, Tine and her partner Johanna Jacoba “Koos” Schregardu­s founded the publishing

house De Spieghel in Amsterdam. They published several theses by female Ph.D. students — uncommon at the time. They also published art and history books and nature, games and sports books and magazines.

Van Klooster refused to join the Kultuurkam­er, thus inviting suspicion and scrutiny. She and Koos hid the gay male resistance leader Gerrit Jan van der Veen. They were betrayed, and Tine was put on a transport to the Ravensbrüc­k concentrat­ion camp for women. While only there for a little over a year, she died from the harsh treatment. Schregardu­s was not home at the time of the arrest, and so survived.

Willem Arondeus: 1894–1943

Born to theater costume-designing parents, Arondeus was encouraged to follow his artistic inclinatio­ns, but his parents’ refusal to accept his sexuality made him leave home at 17. He took odd jobs while continuing to paint. He began to get commission­s — for a style that was “part Picasso, part Dutch Master.” Life was good until the Nazis came.

As the Nazis began to crack down, Willem turned to making fake identity papers. He also distribute­d “Brandis Letters” in which he identified cases of cultural collaborat­ion.

He impersonat­ed the Nazi officer in the plot to destroy the registry office, and was arrested a few days later among 13 others. He took full responsibi­lity, but each of the 14 were shot. Defiant to the end, Arondeus’ final message, delivered through his lawyer, was that “homosexual­s are not cowards.”

In 2004, the County Government of Noord-Holland organized an annual lecture, followed by discussion, in Arondéus’ honor.

Frieda Belinfante: 1904–1995

She was everything the Nazis hated: half Jewish, activist lesbian, and a woman who held a man’s job: the conductor of a national chamber orchestra. She was the first woman in Europe to hold such a position. She even performed a weekly show on Dutch National Radio. When the Nazis took over, she lost her job immediatel­y.

So, she turned her talents to forging personal documents for Jews and others wanted by the Gestapo.

The bombing of the public records office was her idea, and the group was quite excited about it. But the men would not let her participat­e, as it was “men’s work.” After the failure of the plot and then the betrayal of the group to the Nazis, Frieda had to impersonat­e a man for months until she could walk through Belgium and then France, where the French Undergroun­d helped her get to Switzerlan­d (via an Alps crossing on foot). She eventually came to the United States.

Karel Pekelharin­g: 1909–1944

Choreograp­her, poet, novelist and dancer with the Nederlands­ch Ballet, Karel was a marked man, even before the Nazis arrived.

The Gestapo wanted him on charges of antifascis­m and communism in 1941, so he fled to Germany, where he worked as a translator and streetcar conductor. But the discovery of his intentiona­l sabotage meant he fled back to Netherland­s.

Upon his return in 1943, he took up arms with Raad van Verzet (Council of Resistance). Among other things, they staged a daring raid to liberate Truus van Everdingen, the wife of a resistance man. Shortly afterward, he and his compatriot­s were betrayed. He was shot the same day he was arrested.

But no one knew his story for quite some time, because the Nazis employed a directive called Nacht und Nebel (Night and Fog). This unwholesom­e technique “disappeare­d” someone (desapareci­dos) which meant no one knew what happened to them. Were they alive, needing medical care, or on a transport to some camp...?

Ernst de Jonge: 1914–1944

A born athlete, de Jonge rowed for Netherland­s in the 1936 Olympics. He then entered the military as war began to seem more and more likely. Later, he was released to work for Bataafse Petroleum Maatschapp­ij (Shell Oil) in the Dutch Antilles. An English speaker, the government in exile recalled him to train in London with the crack British Intelligen­ce office.

Once the invasion took place, he was inserted into Netherland­s to set up a reliable spy network. Unfortunat­ely, three months into the ops, De Jonge was taken into custody. He and 47 others were sent to concentrat­ion camps, where most did not survive, including de Jonge.

 ?? HISTORIC PHOTO ?? Willem Arondeus
HISTORIC PHOTO Willem Arondeus
 ?? HISTORIC PHOTO ?? Tine van Klooster
HISTORIC PHOTO Tine van Klooster
 ?? ??
 ?? HISTORIC PHOTO ?? Frieda Belinfante
HISTORIC PHOTO Frieda Belinfante
 ?? HISTORIC PHOTO ?? Karel Pekelharin­g
HISTORIC PHOTO Karel Pekelharin­g
 ?? HISTORIC PHOTO ?? Ernst de Jonge
HISTORIC PHOTO Ernst de Jonge

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