March 4, 1933

          Dieses Tagebuch bekam ich von meiner Mutter. Es macht nur Sinn, dass ich es benutze. It was Friday yesterday, and the club was full. They were too busy getting drunk to notice us, though. Walking amongst them, we are like a sideshow from the carnivals. We sit at the table in the corner and they all look, but don’t approach anymore. Not since the brownshirts started with their raids. They all just drink and wait for the night where they burst through the door. I’m not convinced that some of the people there aren’t part of the police.

          I managed to sneak my mother’s dress back into her closet this morning before she woke. Some of the other boys think I should have my own, by now. But, there’s too great a risk that my family would find it.

          There was one man last night. Tall and broad-shouldered, his features were hard and beautiful. We crossed eyes several times, but I couldn’t tell if the look on his face was interest or disgust. Probably the latter. Beneath his thick eyebrows, his deep-set eyes held me in my seat while he finished the last of his beer. Then, he simply stood and walked out.

          Things used to be so different, freer. I could walk from our home to anywhere in town as I was, dress and hair, and no one would look twice. But, with the socialists rising in power, things are worse.

          On my way to work yesterday, one of the police just attacked a man on the sidewalk. Only walking to work, I’m guessing. Within seconds all that was left where he stood were his briefcase and some blood from his nose. Everyone just watched. We knew that if we interfered, we’d be taken just like him. Word had spread about the national socialists. They have ideas about what is right and wrong.

          We discussed it last night, some of my friends think they will go into hiding soon. Not actual hiding. Just that they would stop coming out at night. It’s too dangerous they think. But this is who I am, and I won’t stop it for anyone. My features lend more to my nightly activities anyhow. Most days, people think I’m a woman in a suit. If only they knew. I tried to be different; more like that man in the club. It was no use.

          Time to begin the day. Saturday chores are waiting.

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