"After the outlawing of some right-wing parties, I thought, why belong to a party?" she says. "The groups I joined were angrier than the NPD. I trained a lot of people and gave lectures on how the German secret police operate."
The scene was linked by ideology, but there was growing eclecticism. Privenau marketed her talks to groups such as Blood and Honor, Hammer, a biker gang known as Bones, and a newer "dark wave" movement characterized by satanic and gothic fascinations. Some of these factions had their own music, dance styles, art and fashion, but they all favored movies such as "Braveheart" in which heroes fought for their land against daunting odds.
For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday May 03, 2006 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 2 National Desk 0 inches; 30 words Type of Material: Correction
Neo-Nazis in Germany: In Saturday's Column One about a woman's attempts to escape the world of German neo-Nazis, the name of late right-wing leader Michael Kuehnen was misspelled as Kuehen.
Her furor and radicalism began to have consequences for her children. Her eldest daughter was expelled from a private school for mouthing her mother's beliefs in class. Privenau's demeanor was further softened when she trained to become a physical therapist to better care for her son, who is disabled. She spent more time away from the scene, wearing different clothes, masking her past.
Privenau decided to leave the only world she'd known since she was a girl. "I tried to drag my husband out," she says, "but he saw my reversal as a betrayal."
She adds, "They hate me because I, as a German mother, took five children from their right-wing scene."
On his Web page, Markus Privenau equates his wife with a spy who has to "hate [her] own past in order to be able to look into a mirror. Now the traitor has been pushed so far [she] is willing to publicly empty the excrement bucket over her former comrades."
A close friend, who feared reprisals from right-wing groups and asked not to be named, says Tanja Privenau may never slip the grip of her neo-Nazi past.
"It's a closed system. You can't just leave as you want. These people are not disgusting. They are nice and likable, educated and well-read, at least the ones I've met. But I have realized how conspiratorial they are. If you associate with them, it's hard to keep your independence. You cannot just say 'Bye, bye.' "
With curving streets and neighborhoods rebuilt from war grit, Dresden is a good place to disappear for an afternoon. Privenau orders hot chocolate, checks the faces entering the restaurant.
She has so many stories. Year by year unravels. Tanja the street fighter, the organizer, the writer, the ideologist, and then Tanja the wife, the mother, the defector with the tattoo of the Viking hiding beneath her sweater. She is having the image removed, but has run out of money, and it hangs on like a faint stain.
Her cellphone rings. A man tells her another hiding place is ready. The waiter brings the check. Privenau walks toward the train station with a new address in her pocket.
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Times staff writers Petra Falkenberg and Christian Retzlaff in Berlin contributed to this report.
