How Can a Lesbian Woman Lead a Far-Right Party? Exploring Homonationalism
Produced by @jorgebscomm for @empowervmedia*
Imagine a woman who loves another woman, shares her life with an immigrant partner, and raises two adopted children. Now picture her standing at the helm of a political party that rails against same-sex rights, immigration, and the very family she’s built. This isn’t a riddle — it’s the real-life story of Alice Weidel, co-leader of Germany’s far-right Alternative für Deutschland (AfD) party. Her story pulls us into a strange and troubling idea called homonationalism, where people from marginalised groups, like the LGBTQI+ community, embrace far-right beliefs that seem to clash with their own identities. In this article, we’ll unpack the AfD’s growing power in Germany and dig into homonationalism, weaving together insights from psychology, sociology, and history. Along the way, we’ll ask: How does this happen? What does it mean for society? And how can we learn from the past to shape a kinder future?
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| Homonationalism refers to people from the LGBTQI+ community who embrace far-right beliefs that seem to clash with their own identities. (📷:empowervmedia) |
A Storm Brewing
Germany’s political scene has taken a sharp turn in recent years, with the AfD surging into the spotlight. In the latest elections, the party snagged 20% of the seats in parliament, making it the second-biggest force in the country. That’s a leap not seen from a far-right group since the dark days of Nazism. What’s fuelling this rise? Picture a nation wrestling with soaring energy bills and a cost-of-living crunch that’s left people anxious and frustrated. Add to that a wave of immigration that’s stirred up debates about culture and belonging. The AfD has stepped into this mess with bold promises — crackdowns on immigrants, a return to “traditional” values — that resonate with folks feeling ignored by the usual politicians. It’s a recipe for upheaval, and the AfD is cooking with it.
Neo-Nazi Shadows
The AfD insists it’s not a neo-Nazi outfit, but the clues tell a different story. Its founder walked away early on, spooked by what he saw as neo-Nazi leanings. Some members have ties to extremist groups, including neo-Nazi cells. The party’s talk of mass deportations and its hostility toward outsiders echoes the chilling playbook of past fascist regimes. Even Alice Weidel, the co-leader we mentioned earlier, has brushed off the Holocaust’s weight in ways that raise eyebrows. Calling them neo-Nazi outright might spark debate, but their words and deeds carry an unsettling resemblance to history’s worst chapters. For a magazine like ours, this isn’t just politics — it’s a puzzle about how ideas twist and turn, pulling people into unexpected corners.
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A Paradox in Plain Sight
Here’s where things get tangled. Homonationalism is a term — a bit of a mouthful, sure — coined by scholar Jasbir Puar to describe when LGBTQI+ folks hitch their wagons to far-right causes. Take Alice Weidel: she’s a lesbian with an immigrant wife, yet she’s a star in a party that’s no friend to either group. How does that work? It’s not just a German oddity. Across the pond, some LGBTQI+ Americans cheer for politicians who’d roll back their rights. The idea is that these individuals see a chance to climb the social ladder by siding with a powerful movement, even if it’s built on sand that could swallow them too. It’s a gamble, and it’s got us wondering about the human mind and the societies we shape.
Inside the Mind: Why Align with the Enemy?
Let’s peek into the psychology of this. There’s a concept called cognitive dissonance — fancy words for the mental tug-of-war when your beliefs and actions don’t match up. For an LGBTQI+ person backing the AfD, it might mean convincing themselves they’re different from “those other” queer folks, or that the party’s harsh rules won’t touch them. Weidel’s own words hint at this: she’s called herself a lesbian but not “queer,” drawing a line to set herself apart. It’s like a shield, protecting her from the reality of what she’s supporting. From a sociology angle, it’s about belonging. People crave a spot in the “in” crowd, and if the far-right looks like it’s winning, some will scramble to join, hoping to dodge the blows aimed at others. It’s human nature, messy and raw, playing out in real time.
History’s Warning Bell
Zoom out to history, and the stakes get clearer. Back in 1933, Nazi thugs torched books from the Institute of Sexual Sciences, a hub for early LGBTQI+ research. It wasn’t just paper burning — it was a signal of the horrors to come, as queer people and others were rounded up and destroyed. A poet named Heinrich Heine once warned, “Where books are burned, in the end, people will also be burned”. That line chills me every time I read it, because it’s not just old news — it’s a flare shot into today’s sky. The AfD’s rise, with its echoes of those times, asks us to pay attention. Homonationalism might feel new, but it’s tangled in threads that stretch back decades. Ignoring them risks repeating the pain.
Finding Light
So where do we go from here? It’s easy to feel stuck, watching these currents swirl. But there’s power in understanding. Psychologically, we can foster spaces where people wrestle with their contradictions without leaping to extremes — think community dialogues or even just honest chats with friends. Sociologically, it’s about building societies that don’t pit groups against each other, where belonging doesn’t mean picking a side to fight on. History hands us a playbook: educate, remember, and call out the patterns when they creep back. For the AfD and homonationalism, that might mean amplifying voices that bridge divides — LGBTQI+ folks who reject the far-right’s lure, or immigrants who share their stories to soften hardened hearts. It’s slow work, but it’s hope we can hold onto.
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| Some LGBTQ+ Americans cheer for politicians who’d roll back their rights. (📷:createdebate) |
The AfD’s climb and the riddle of homonationalism aren’t just German quirks — they’re mirrors reflecting how identity, power, and fear dance together. Alice Weidel’s story, strange as it seems, cracks open questions we all face: Who do we stand with? What do we stand for? By peering through the lenses of psychology, sociology, and history, we see not just the problem, but the possibility of something better. The past whispers warnings, yes, but it also lights a path. Let’s take it — together — toward a world where no one has to trade their truth for a seat at the table. That’s the challenge, and the promise, we can carry forward.
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