Annemarie Schwarzenbach
“Fear? Back then, I didn't even realize what that new feeling was. Later, when it overwhelmed me and almost pulled me under, I understood. And, since then, a nameless fear has hung like a plume of smoke over the great, colorful desert of this country, above my sometimes blissful, sometimes terrible memories of it.”
― Annemarie Schwarzenbach
Annemarie Schwarzenback, a writer, a photographer, a traveller. Though her life was rather short, it still managed to be full. Born in 1908, she died in 1942, but between those thirty-four years, she was able to find more life and growth than others have throughout their entire lifetime. Growing up in Switzerland through the beginning and growth of World War Two, she was a divided woman in a divided world.
It is not out of place to find a queer person who didn’t have the best relationship with their family, but each family is different, and in this case, that difference is evident. For example, Annemarie’s mother was a queer woman herself, having relationships with a woman outside of her marriage to Annemarie’s father, which he tolerated. In childhood, Annemarie was not only allowed to wear traditionally masculine clothes, but it was encouraged by her mother. Annemarie’s sexuality was not, in all truth, the largest part of contention between herself and her family, but this didn’t mean her relationship with her family was any easier. While the divide began early as her mother was reportedly a domineering presence in the household, it came to a head when Annemarie met Erika Mann.
Erika and Klaus Mann were the children of Thomas Mann, and like their father, they hated Nazis. And Annemarie’s family were Nazi supporters. While Annemarie had made it clear she had similar feelings as the Mann family, her friendship with Erika and Klaus angered her family.
Annemarie remained friends with the two anyway, soon starting a relationship with Erika. This relationship would not last, though, as while Annemarie was head over heels for Erika, Erika soon moved on to a new woman, an actress named Therese Giehse.
Annemarie then moved to Berlin in 1930 with Klaus Mann, who was queer as well and settled in with the Mann family. It was then that she began taking drugs, an addiction that would plague her from then on. Along with addiction, she had mental illnesses, such as depression, that would play an intense role in her life.
Her life in Berlin was a wild one, her friend Ruth Landshoff describing her during that time as:
“She lived dangerously. She drank too much. She never went to sleep before dawn".
Berlin was a hub for queer expression and art during this particular period of history. But like many others, her lifestyle ended in 1933 when the Nazis took over, and the Berlin she had fallen in love with disappeared. At the same time, the conflict within her family heightened. She continued consorting with anti-fascists and claimed to be one herself. In contrast, her family continued their support of the far-right in Switzerland and, by extension, the Nazi party in Germany. Her mother was the driving force behind this decision. And again, the conflict between the mother and daughter heightened.
Annemarie was caught between two worlds, her family, who had raised her in privilege and who she was unable to part with and her friend circle, which included Jewish people, queer people, and political refugees from Germany. She chose the harder path, supporting her friends and beginning the publication Die Sammlung with Klaus Mann. This, of course, was a moral decision, but it was not an easy one, and it took a toll on Annemarie. The combination of the conflict between herself and her family, her continuing battle with depression, and her addictions factored together were among the precipitating events that led to her first suicide attempt.
Her family only became more separated from her at this point, becoming resentful because of the scandal her suicide attempt had caused. So she began travelling again, moving through Europe, making friends with other artists and continuing the friendship with Klaus that would last her whole life. During her travels, she suggested that she and Klaus should marry in a letter as they were both queer, and it could make life easier for both of them. But it was not to be.
In 1935, she met the man who would become her husband, a French diplomat in Persia named Achille-Claude Clarac, who was a gay man. Though they had only known each other for a few months previous to their marriage and separated for their individual adventures soon after, it was a marriage that helped them both. It allowed both to have their relationships outside of their marriage without conflict, gave them a cover for inquiries into their sexuality, allowed Annemarie to get a diplomatic passport, and made travel easier for her. She took full advantage of this opened opportunities for her, travelling to America, and later Afghanistan. As she travelled, she took photographs that documented racism and classism in America and the rise of fascism in Europe, and she wrote travel guides. As she was a white woman born into a rich family, she did not fully understand the scope of racism and classism, so her accounts were imperfect. Even though she had been able to surround herself with better influences in her later life, her family and her privilege had left a mark on her, and she was not free of prejudice. Even still, she managed to write 300 articles and took 5,000 photographs, becoming an extremely prolific artist.
She had also managed to engage in many relationships throughout her travels, with authors, archeologists, and ambassadors. In the end, though she still had feelings for Erika Mann, who disapproved of the fact that throughout all the political turmoil in the world, Annemarie still refused to cut ties with her family. On the other side, her family continued to object to Annemarie’s continued political ventures, including her vocal support of labour unions, which went directly against her family, who owned textile farms.
But throughout all of her movement, she always did, at some point, return to Switzerland. And she had kept a refuge in Switzerland, a home in Sils where she allowed her friends to stay if they needed somewhere safe and a place for herself when she did. It was upon one of her returns to Sils she died. In 1942 she got into a bicycle accident and hit her head, and died over a month later.
Though her friends tried to visit her, her mother refused to let them see her, including blocking Annemarie’s husband, who had rushed to see her as soon as he had heard what happened. After she had died, her mother attempted to burn all of her diaries and work, and much of what Annemarie created was destroyed. Luckily her friends were able to save some and gave them to a museum years later.
Even after death, though, her two worlds continued their conflict. While her legacy of creation grew in artistic circles, her name was scrubbed away within her own family. Her great-nephew Alexis revealed he didn’t even know about his great-aunt until he found one of her books, saying:
"I went to my grandmother and said, 'I didn't know grandfather's sister was a writer.' And she said, 'yes, she was a writer, and a lesbian and a morphine addict,' and this was the first huge piece of information I had about her,"
And when looking at her life, there are some conflicting questions. Annemarie was an incredible person, but was she a good person? Was it moral of her to remain in contact and try to get along with her family when her family actively supported Nazis?
She was a woman who was given every privilege; she had a rich family, a family that would have supported her identity, and she risked all of this to help work against one of the worst regimes the world has seen. Was she a person who actively tried to do good in the world? Yes.
Was she perfect? No. Was she evil? No. Was she good?
There have been queer people who are horrible; in fact, no need to look further than one generation above Annemarie herself. Her mother was a queer woman who actively supported Nazis. Queer history is not clean. It is not simple or easy, or always on the right side of the battle. Like all of history, it is complex.
There is no way to excuse Annemarie’s bad decisions, but there doesn't need to be. Every queer person doesn’t need to be perfect.
But this is not a reason to allow such behaviour or shrug it off. It is a reason to work harder. It is better to look at the queer community and acknowledge the flaws and after that, get to work. Fight the urges privilege instills; fight the people who choose hate even when they come from the queer communities.
Annemarie Schwarzenbach was not evil, and she fought so hard. She was a woman who tried to make good decisions in a difficult situation, and sometimes she got it wrong.
[Disclaimer: some of the sources may contain triggering material.]
Barbara Lorey de Lacharrière, (trans. Gabrielle Giattino), Annemarie Schwarzenbach : A Life, Retrieved April 1, 2017
Isobel L. (May 23, 2008) Swiss writer's life was stranger than fiction, Retrieved April 1, 2017
http://www.swissinfo.ch/eng/swiss-writer-s-life-was-stranger-than-fiction/1015688
James C. (November 15, 2011) Schwarzenbach in English, Retrieved April 1, 2017
https://strangeflowers.wordpress.com/2011/11/15/schwarzenbach-in-english/
Julia C. (November 23, 2015) A Woman to Know: Annemarie Schwarzenbach, Retrieved April 1, 2017
https://tinyletter.com/awomantoknow/letters/a-woman-to-know-annemarie-schwarzenbach
Ruth P. (2015) Schwarzenbach, Annemarie (1908-1942), Retrieved April 1, 2017
https://library.macewan.ca/library-search/detailed-view/qth/110494388