On October 31, 2022, Pedro Sánchez led a ceremony marking Victims of Francoism Remembrance Day. The event, held in accordance with the Democratic Memory Act, brought together associations and survivors of the Franco regime in the National Auditorium’s chamber. Attendees included relatives of Julián Grimau, Juana Doña, and Jordi Small, a pioneering advocate for LGBTQ+ rights who endured much of his activism during clandestine years of repression.
Participants noted that while individuals were honored, the group as a whole deserved symbolic reparation. The gesture indicated government recognition, yet it acknowledged that work remains to address past harms and the lingering consequences that the memory of those affected still bears. The discussion included perspectives from a journalist and writer who has long argued for the memory of those who faced harassment under Francoism and helped contextualize the broader struggle for LGBTQ+ rights.
In this dialogue, the possibility of compiling a written account on homosexuality under the Franco regime emerged. The project would explore the topic not through academic or historiographical orthodoxy alone, but through perspectives from LGBTQ+ movements and editorial work. A foreword for the event came from a notable writer, highlighting the ongoing relevance of these memories in contemporary discussions.
Reflecting on the early 2000s, the conversation touched on the fear that still surrounded social, family, and work lives. Access to sensitive archival material, such as prison records, was crucial for understanding how persecution operated. The focus was not only on names in the records, but on the letters expressing the mechanisms of persecution—how laws and social norms framed and reinforced the discrimination of LGBTQ+ people, both legally and socially.
Terms used in legal files—describing acts as obscene, immoral, or perverse—illustrate how the regime criminalized sexuality. Although some norms from the Social Hazard Act were ratified in 1970, they were not effectively repealed until 1995, a delay tied to competing priorities during the transition to democracy. The post-dictatorship era saw both stigmatization linked to HIV and the emergence of organized movements that pressed for equal rights, all evolving over three decades of democratic governance.
Morality of an immoral regime
The regime’s most fundamental failings—widespread plunder and a lack of food, shelter, or work—often found justification in terms of public necessity, while sexual conduct was branded immoral. The narrative of the dictatorship, which intertwined National-Catholicism with state power, framed homosexuality as an enemy, then a crime, then a threat. Yet the control of sexuality was met with resistance; people devised inventive ways to live and connect, even under repression. The book referenced in this discourse documents a number of gathering spots across Madrid, including cinemas, stations, and various social venues, where clandestine communities found spaces to meet and survive.
Communities from rural to urban hubs
Migrants moving to major cities formed networks of social life, creating codes and spaces that gave birth to a distinct LGBTQ+ culture. Florists, hairdressers, tailors, and other small businesses became anchors of resistance and community. These venues allowed individuals to express themselves openly and to sustain networks that helped the broader movement gain visibility. This mutual support helped the LGBTQ+ community gain a foothold on the streets during the late 1960s.
Hidden loves
Persecution did not disappear but evolved with the regime. The early emphasis on Catholic influence extended into a period of openness to international exchange, yet the stigma surrounding homosexuality persisted. The writings of a notable ideologue from the era reflected the prevailing belief that homosexuality endangered family life and private property. Later, foreign visitors and tourism brought new dynamics. Enclaves such as coastal towns offered more room for open expression, even as official bans lingered and secrecy remained essential for personal survival.
Imagining life as a gay person under Franco is a powerful reminder
The private sphere remained fragile, and sharing personal experiences was often tied to political belonging. The broader historical context shows a generation negotiating identity in a landscape altered by exile, imprisonment, and social exclusion. References to earlier era limits were scarce, and testimonies from lesbians, in particular, gained visibility only later as cultural and political shifts opened space for them to speak out and be recognized as part of the movement for equal rights.
Women and resistance
While male homosexual narratives dominate some sources, the experiences of lesbian women are also documented. The regime’s view of women often reduced to reproductive roles, yet women demonstrated substantial resilience and organizational skill in clandestine networks. A key observation is that the regime’s attention to public scandals rarely targeted women in the same way, even when laws aimed at social control were in force. The enduring impact of those years has kept the memory of lesbian experiences central to contemporary discussions of LGBTQ+ history in the country. As the movement for rights advanced, historical voices emphasized that the fight for equality was shared across generations and genders.
In reflecting on the broader struggle, the memory of activists and supporters remains a touchstone. The call to defend rights—an enduring motto—echoes through the testimonies and the literature that recounts these decades. It reminds readers that progress was earned through persistent effort, solidarity, and the willingness to confront a difficult past, ensuring that civil liberties are safeguarded for future generations.