One sentence. Eight words. And suddenly, nothing was the same.
June 2001. Berlin. A politician, barely known outside the capital, stands before his party and simply says it: "I'm gay – and that's a good thing!" No hesitation. No beating around the bush. No "I don't want to talk about my private life." Just blurt it out – and then that defiant, self-assured "and that's a good thing" right after.
The hall went silent. Then applause. And Klaus Wowereit, until then a local politician from Berlin-Tempelhof, became an overnight star.
But the story behind this moment is even better than the moment itself.
The smear campaign that backfired
Wowereit didn't say that sentence out of sheer joy. Days before the SPD's special party conference on June 10, 2001, he received information: Journalists were assigned to his private life. Tabloids were planning an exposé. His homosexuality was to be weaponized – against him, in the middle of an election campaign.
He could have remained silent. Waited. Hoped the story wouldn't appear. Instead, he chose the opposite: Offensive action. Anyone who tells their own story can no longer be blackmailed. Whoever speaks first retains control.
The sentence was not crafted by consultants, not tested in focus groups. It emerged in the moment – spontaneously, instinctively, and with a clarity that no PR team could have done better.
The CDU responded in its own way: Their candidate Frank Steffel was conspicuously displayed on posters with his wife. "Traditional family values" as an election campaign message. Friedrich Merz expressed criticism. The message was unmistakable.
It didn't work. Berliners elected Wowereit. What was intended as discredit, he turned against his opponents – and won. The first openly gay leading politician in Germany
Who was this man anyway?
Honestly: Before this moment, the name Klaus Wowereit would have left most Germans cold. He sat in the Berlin House of Representatives, did his job, didn't stand out much. Just a local politician. Diligent, competent, but not the kind of person the tabloids wrote about.
That was 2001. The SPD needed a top candidate for the Berlin state election. Wowereit got the job. And then – instead of dutifully running his campaign – he did something that had been practically unthinkable in German politics until then.
He came out. Publicly. On camera. With a sentence that sounds like a battle cry.
Germany 2001: What that meant
A quick trip back in time, because this is important: Although homosexuality had been fully decriminalized in Germany since 1994, socially? Still far from normal. Especially in politics, there was icy silence. Gay politicians existed – but they existed in secret, behind heterosexual facades, for fear of career termination, ridicule, exclusion.
The word "schwul" (gay) itself was still heavily loaded. It was used as an insult. In the schoolyard, in the pub, in the media. Anyone who called themselves gay made themselves vulnerable.
Wowereit knew all this. And he said it anyway.
"I'm gay – and that's a good thing!"
What makes this sentence so special is not just the confession itself – it's the attitude behind it. He doesn't say "homosexual." He says gay. The word that the community had long claimed for itself, but which no one in mainstream politics had yet uttered aloud. And then this "and that's a good thing" – no apology, no explanation, no pleading for understanding. Simply: Yes, I am. And? Problem?
That was 2001. That was revolutionary.
The reaction: Surprisingly positive
Of course, there was pushback. Homophobic comments, critical voices, the usual noise. But the astonishing thing was: The majority reacted positively. Berlin voters elected him. The SPD won the election. Wowereit became Governing Mayor of Berlin – and remained so for over a decade.
His coming out had not harmed his career. It had made it.
That was the real message that echoed through the country: Authenticity works. Honesty pays off. And perhaps – perhaps – Germany is more mature than many had thought.
The domino effect
After Wowereit, it became easier. Not easy, but easier. Other politicians came out. The visibility of gay men in positions of power grew. And with visibility came the laws: registered civil partnerships, later – in 2017 – marriage for all.
Wowereit did not achieve this alone. But he opened a door that had seemed firmly locked before. And once a door is open, others follow.
What remains
Klaus Wowereit is 72 today. He governed Berlin, he partied, he survived scandals, he eventually grew tired and resigned. The life of a politician, in short.
But that one sentence – that one moment in June 2001 – that remains. For everyone who listened then. For all the young gay men who saw: There's someone like me, and he's not ashamed. For all who came after and had it a little easier because someone before them had the courage.
"I'm gay – and that's a good thing!"
Eight words. And they changed a lot.
