They Burned the World's First Trans Clinic - And They're Doing It Again

On May 6, 1933, members of the German Student Union marched to the Institute of Sexual Research in Berlin - with a brass band. Like a parade. They stormed the building, seized tens of thousands of volumes, grabbed patient files and address lists full of names and identities - and four days later, burned it all at Opernplatz in front of 40,000 people. In this episode, we tell the full story of what was destroyed that day, and why it matters more right now than it has in decades.

The Institute of Sexual Research was extraordinary. Founded in 1919 by Magnus Hirschfeld, it housed the largest collection on human sexuality in the world. In its first year, staff conducted over 18,000 consultations for 3,500 people - many completely free. Five trans women were employed on staff. Dora Richter became one of the first people in history to receive full gender confirmation surgery there. The institute was pioneering gender-affirming care and hormone therapy decades before the rest of the world caught up. And its motto - through science to justice - wasn't just a slogan. They meant it.

But the patient files seized during the raid were later used to round up gay men across Germany. The very institution built to protect queer people became a tool to hunt them. This episode traces how that happened, what was lost forever, and why only 35 items from the original collection of tens of thousands have ever been recovered.

And then it connects the dots to right now - because the pattern hasn't changed. Book bans are up 63% in the United States. Kansas is seizing driver's licenses from trans people. The ACLU is tracking nearly 500 anti-LGBTQ bills in 2026. Where they burn books, in the end they also burn people. Heinrich Heine wrote that 113 years before it happened on the Opernplatz. This episode is about the safe spaces that save lives - and what it means to be the books that survived.

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Transcript

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What happens when a government decides your existence is something to erase. Hi there, I'm Chris with a K and welcome back to this week in Queer History, where we find hope-filled, inspirational, and strategic moments from queer history that we can use today. This week, we're talking about one of the most devastating attacks on queer knowledge that ever took place the Nazi destruction of the Institute of Sexual Research in Berlin. And if you think this is just a history lesson, and you just stay with me because this one hits close to home. Let's get into it. This weekend queer history. Now, if you've already watched my video on Magnus Hirschfeld, I'll link it up above and down in the description so you can watch it if you haven't. But if you have watched it, you know what kind of a human being he was. So today I'm not retelling his biography. Today is all about what the Nazis destroyed and why the destruction matters more right now than it has in decades. So let's jump back in time. It's Berlin, 1919, and the Institute of Sexual Research has just opened on July 6th in the Tiergarten district. The building was gorgeous, and visitors describe it like feeling at home, not like at a clinic. And its motto, Percentium a Justitium. Hopefully I got that right. Through science to justice. And these weren't just words, they really meant it. The institute had one of the largest collections on human sexuality in the world. It's estimated that between 12,000 and 25,000 volumes were there. In the institute's first year alone, the staff conducted over 18,000 consultations for 3,500 people. And many of these sessions were offered completely free. They were pioneers for gender-affirming surgeries and hormone therapy decades before the rest of the world caught up. Five trans women were employed on staff. A woman named Dora Richter became one of the first trans women in history to receive full gender confirmation surgery there. Dr. Levi Lenz, one of the physicians, he wrote, Never have I operated upon more grateful patients. That's truly powerful. The institute wasn't just doing medicine, too. It was it was building a theory of human diversity that we're still catching up to. Hirschfeld's concept of sexual intermediaries, it's the idea that gender and sexuality exist on a spectrum. Hello, sound like anybody? Kinsey? And this was all in the 1920s. Albert Einstein, Herman Hess, and Thomas Mann all signed petitions connected to the institute's fight against paragraph 175. Which, if you don't know, or if you do, that was Germany's anti-sodomy law at the time. Harry Benjamin also visited the institute, and he would later become the pioneer of transmedicine in the United States. This place was a lighthouse, but it faced challenges because where there are lighthouses, there are storms. On May 6, 1933, that's 93 years ago, this week, members of the German Student Union, these were young men who had been swayed into the Nazi Party, they all marched to the institute. They stormed the building and they began hauling out everything that they could carry. And then the S.A. Brown shirts, which was the Nazis paramilitary, think ice. They arrived, and that's when things got even worse. They seized the library, they took the archives, and then they took something even more life-changing. They seized all of the patient records, which included addresses, names, identities, evidence of who people were. Those files were later used to round up queer people across Germany. Just think about that for a moment. The very institution built to protect queer people became the tool used to hunt them down. Four days later, May 10th, 1933, in the Opernplatz in Berlin, 40,000 people gathered as Joseph Goebbels gave a speech. Nazi newsreels called the institute's collection the intellectual garbage of the past. They burned between 12,000 and 25,000 books. They put a bust of Hirschfeld himself on the bonfire. This wasn't just happening just in Berlin. There were over 100 book burnings in 70 German cities between March and October of that year. The human cost of all of this is unimaginable. Karl Gies, Hirschfeld's partner and the Institute's archivist, died by suicide in 1938. Dr. Arthur Kronfeld, suicide. Dr. Felix Abraham, suicide. Others like Besunger died in the camps. Hirschfeld himself, who was traveling abroad during the raid, never returned to Germany. He died in exile on May 14th, 1935, his 67th birthday. After 40 years of searching, only 35 items from the original collection have been recovered. 35 out of tens of thousands. And here's what makes me so angry. After the war, West Germany didn't repeal the Nazi Amendment to paragraph 175. They kept them in until 1994. But this tragedy wasn't just about 1933. It had happened before and it is happening again now. In 1820, over a century before the Nazis, the German poet Heinrich Hain wrote, Where they burn books, in the end they will also burn people. He wrote that 113 years before it happened on the OPERIN plots. And we're living that same truth today, tiptoeing into something really dark. Pan America documented 1,477 book bands in 2021 and 22. There's been a 63% rise in US book bands between 2022 and 23, and 40% of those target LGBTQ content. The ACLU is tracking 474 anti-LGBTQ bills in 2026, with over 170 targeting gender-affirming care. And now Kansas is seizing driver's licenses from trans people. Think about that. What that means. They're making trans people illegal. And once you make someone illegal, you can imprison them and you can dehumanize them. And this pattern it hasn't changed. Dehumanize, isolate, criminalize, destroy knowledge, and then eliminate. Glad social media safety index found that LGBTQ content is pretty much unsafe for all users. Our digital spaces, the places where so many of us find community, can be switched off with a policy change. A platform can flip a switch and we disappear. That's what was happening in 1933, and it wasn't about books then, and it's not just about books now. It's about allowing people to exist as they are. And this is where it gets really personal for us. For me, growing up in Draper, Utah, the public library was right there, walking distance from my house. But there weren't any gay books on those shelves. No stories that told me I was okay. It wasn't until I got to Southern Utah University that I could even begin to explore who I was. I joined a pride organization started by an incredible guy named Clifton Wright. Thank you, Clifton. And eventually I became the president. But that space, it became a sharing resource, watching movies together, passing around books, it changed my life and it saved my life. Later in the 90s, there was the Utah Stonewall Center in Salt Lake City, bulletin boards with legal help, educational resources, there were community events, and just knowing that it existed, it made my world feel more possible. And then when I moved to LA, the LA LGBT center, it had healthcare, mental health services, testing, which I use, and support groups, research. These places, they held me up at different moments in my life when I needed support. So when I look at what happened to the Institute of Sexual Research, I don't see just people burning books. I see safe spaces burning and being destroyed. I see safe rooms where people got free health care all gone. I see archives where people's stories were honored and they turned them against them. I see the home where a trans woman lived and worked without fear, destroyed in a single night. If people had done that to the organizations that have helped me on my journey, I don't know where I would be today. And that's why we need us to do something about it. To speak our truths loudly, to post our lives everywhere, to share our stories, who we are, and what we love. It's worth saving and it is worth sharing. We've always found ways to preserve ourselves and we always will. But we also need to think about the digital spaces we are on because so much of our lives exists in places that can be turned off with a switch. And it made me start to think about these spaces that I'm on, and I got a little nervous. So I started looking and then I found a platform that I could use. And I so I started a circle community. And it's a space that is safe, it's ours, it's not censored, it's not algorithmic, it's just open to communication. A huge thank you to the members that you see on screen right now. Your support makes this all possible, and it helps me keep digging through archives and sharing the queer history that inspires us. If you'd like to join them, there's a link up above and in the description down below. And if membership isn't in your budget right now, no worries. Subscribing and hitting the bell helps more than you know. Most of all, thank you for being here. And that brings me back to why this channel exists. It exists to spread this history, to make sure that the knowledge that they tried to burn then and are trying to burn now keeps reaching people. I am so grateful for the world that we have today, a world that was built on the struggles of people like Hirschfeld and Dora Richter and everyone at that institute. If Hirschfeld could see us now, I think that he'd believe it's a much better place and not a perfect place, but a better one and one that is worth fighting for. And the people who are brave enough to tell our stories have always existed. A street cleaner in Berlin saved Hirschfeld's bronze bust from the ashes the day after the burning in 1933. One person pulling something precious out of the fire. And we all have that opportunity to be the street cleaner right now. Because, in a way, we are the stories that survive that night. I'd love to hear your thoughts. What do queer spaces mean to you? And if you haven't seen that video on Magnus Hirschfeld, that's a great one to watch. You can also see some more queer history by clicking this video right over here. And you can join the circle platform over on Circle. The link is up above and down below. And we just get on there and we share history, we ask questions, and we build connection. Until next time, stay strong, stay bold, and keep making history.