One might consider this a guide. I consider it a testament to humanity’s enduring fascination with its own baser impulses, meticulously cataloged. Don't expect a sugar-coated tour.
De Wallen
De Wallen, a name that rolls off the tongue with a certain historical weight, stands as the most prominent and widely recognized red-light district within the intricate urban tapestry of Amsterdam. It is not merely a collection of streets, but rather a dense, labyrinthine network of narrow alleys and canals, where, behind approximately 300 distinct one-room cabins, prostitutes offer their sexual services. These unassuming windows, often bathed in a characteristic crimson glow or the more ethereal shimmer of blacklight, have become the quintessential image of Amsterdam's permissive approach to sex work. Indeed, this unique form of window prostitution remains the most visible and iconic manifestation of the city's red-light district.
This specific quarter, De Wallen, does not exist in isolation. It forms a crucial part of what is collectively known as the Rosse Buurt, or "red-light areas," of Amsterdam, alongside the adjacent districts of Singelgebied and Ruysdaelkade (part of De Pijp). Of these, De Wallen claims the distinction of being both the oldest and the most extensive. Its notoriety, naturally, has cemented its status as one of the city's primary tourist attractions, drawing in crowds who come to gawk, to judge, or perhaps, to partake. However, not all hours are equally accessible; from Thursday through Sunday, access to De Wallen becomes restricted at 1:00 am, with the numerous bars and restaurants within its confines ceasing operations by 2:00 am, and the brothels themselves drawing their curtains at 3:00 am. [1]
Beyond the illuminated windows, the area boasts a diverse array of establishments catering to various forms of adult entertainment and leisure. Visitors will find a selection of sex shops, various sex theatres offering live performances, and discreet peep shows. For those seeking a more curated, albeit still explicit, experience, there is a dedicated sex museum. Contrasting sharply with these, or perhaps complementing them, are a cannabis museum and a multitude of coffeeshops where the sale and consumption of cannabis are openly permitted, adding another layer to the district's complex identity.
History
The very genesis of De Wallen is inextricably linked to the geographical and commercial development of Amsterdam. The city's two foundational waterways, the Rokin and Damrak, trace the original, meandering course of the river Amstel. These two vital arteries converge at Dam Square, a site of profound historical significance that marks the precise location where a bridge was first constructed across the river in 1270. This early infrastructure was more than just a crossing; it incorporated doors, ingeniously designed to dam the river at specific intervals, primarily to prevent the perennial threat of flooding. The subsequent transformation of the Damrak into a bustling harbor naturally drew in maritime traffic, traders, and, inevitably, a transient population. It was in this fertile ground, surrounding the newly formed harbor, that the first stirrings of a red-light district began to appear, almost as an organic consequence of human activity. The distinctive "walled canals" that characterize the area eventually gave rise to its evocative names: De Wallen and Walletjes, meaning "little walls." [citation needed]
Historically, the magnetic pull of the harbor ensured that this district became a nexus for both burgeoning prostitution and diverse migrant populations, features for which it remains renowned even today. [2] The confluence of these elements shaped its character, embedding it deeply into the city's social fabric.
As society evolved, so too did its attempts to regulate, or at least control, this burgeoning trade. From late medieval times onward, efforts were made to restrict the practice. Married men and priests, for instance, were explicitly forbidden from entering these areas, a futile exercise in moral gatekeeping. A significant shift occurred in 1578, during the tumultuous period of the Dutch Revolt against Spanish rule, when a new Protestant city board was established. Under this new moral regime, fornication was officially deemed a punishable offense. Consequently, sex workers found themselves banned from public spaces and forced underground. They often operated under the aegis of a madam, who provided essential services such as room and board, a measure of protection, and invaluable advice in a precarious profession. These madams and their girls would frequently venture out under the cover of night, visiting pubs and inns to solicit clients, a clandestine dance of commerce and desire. Despite the official prohibition, these hidden parlors remained, existing in a state of illegal but generally tolerated ambiguity. The trade, though small-scale, dispersed itself across the city, finding havens in areas such as De Haarlemmerdijk, De Houttuinen, Zeedijk, and, of course, around the ever-present harbor. [citation needed]
The 18th century witnessed a subtle evolution in the mechanics of the trade. Affluent gentlemen, seeking discreet encounters, would frequent gambling houses located on De Gelderskade and Zeedijk. From these establishments, the women would then accompany their clients back to the parlors from which they originated. However, these parlors were often far from luxurious, hardly befitting a "gentleman of means." A practical solution emerged: the gambling houses began to offer lodging for the women themselves. This arrangement, a shrewd business move, proved mutually beneficial, even tacitly approved by the authorities, who found it easier to manage a centralized, if still technically illicit, operation. These gambling houses, now effectively operating as sophisticated brothels, began to invest heavily in opulent furnishings, transforming into lavish establishments that could employ up to 30 women. Legendary brothels of this era included De Pijl in Pijlstraat, De Fonteyn in Nieuwmarkt, and the infamous Madame Therese on the Prinsengracht. For those whose pockets were not deep enough to afford entry to such opulent houses, women could still be found around Oudekerksplein, where unofficial policies of tolerance persisted, even though prostitution remained technically illegal. [citation needed]
A pivotal moment arrived in 1811 when the ban on prostitution was officially lifted. During this Napoleonic era, the primary clientele for the prostitutes in De Wallen were the soldiers of the French Imperial Naval Corps. [3] With legalization came regulation, including the introduction of compulsory health checks, a measure primarily aimed at protecting soldiers from the ravages of venereal diseases. Sex workers were issued a red card, serving as their official permit to work. Should they be found infected, this card would be revoked until they could demonstrate a disease-free status. In an age before reliable antibiotics, treatments for diseases like syphilis were desperate and often dangerous, including the harrowing practice of mercury baths, which merely aimed to alleviate symptoms rather than cure the underlying affliction. [citation needed]
The early 20th century saw a resurgence of moralistic fervor, with religious organizations launching concerted campaigns to eradicate prostitution entirely. This culminated in 1911 with the passage of a law that specifically outlawed brothels and pimping, though prostitution itself remained legal. Predictably, this merely drove the industry back underground, where it was once again tolerated so long as it remained discreet and did not cause public disturbance. With the closure of many formal parlors in De Wallen, some women migrated to the district of De Pijp. By 1935, estimates suggested the existence of around 150 disguised parlors, operating under the guises of massage services, pedicures, manicures, and various beauty treatments. Sex workers continued to ply their trade around the Oudekerksplein, but with a crucial difference: instead of openly soliciting, as they do today, they would stand behind closed curtains, peering through a small crack, searching for potential customers. To be seen standing openly in a doorway was an invitation for arrest, a testament to the ever-shifting boundaries of official tolerance. [citation needed]
Location
The geographical footprint of De Wallen encompasses an area of approximately 6,500 square metres (a modest 1.6 acres), a surprisingly compact space for such a renowned district. Its boundaries are precisely delineated: to the north, it is limited by the Niezel; to the east, by the sea dike and Nieuwmarkt; to the south, by Sint Jansstraat; and to the west, by the Warmoesstraat. Within these confines, the specific streets where prostitution actively takes place include: Barndesteeg, Bethlehemsteeg, Bloedstraat, Boomsteeg (which has since been closed), Dollebegijnensteeg, Enge Kerksteeg, Goldbergersteeg, Gordijnensteeg, Molensteeg, Monnikenstraat, Oudekerksplein, Oudekennissteeg, Oudezijds Achterburgwal, Oudezijds Voorburgwal, Sint Annendwarsstraat, Sint Annenstraat, Stoofsteeg, and Trompettersteeg. Each name whispers a fragment of history, a silent witness to countless transactions. [citation_needed]
Further within this intricate network, between Sint Jansstraat and Sint Annenstraat, and running parallel to them, are the alleys of Leidekkerssteeg, Gooijersteeg, Blaauwlakensteeg, and Zwartlakensteeg. At one point, at least three of these alleys also featured red light windows, a detail now largely obscured by time and brick. These windows, however, were systematically closed in the 1970s. Today, these particular alleys are physically blocked by locked gates, though a keen eye might still discern the faint architectural scars of bricked-over windows, silent reminders of past lives and purposes. Similarly, in the 1990s, Slapersteeg met the same fate, its access now permanently sealed by a gate. [citation needed]
The landscape of De Wallen is not static; it has undergone periods of significant transformation. In the 1990s, for instance, portions of Sint Annenstraat and Sint Annendwarsstraat were subjected to demolition, reshaping parts of the district. Following this period of urban renewal, the rooms located in Goldbergersteeg were opened, indicating a continuous, if sometimes disruptive, adaptation to changing circumstances and regulations. [citation needed]
Sex work
Prostitution in the Netherlands occupies a peculiar legal grey area: it is legal, with the notable exception of street prostitution, which is universally prohibited. However, the legal framework is far from straightforward. While the trade itself is not illegal, specific work permits (often colloquially referred to as "green cards" in other contexts, though not officially titled such for this profession) are not issued for prostitution. This regulatory quirk effectively limits legal participation in the trade almost exclusively to citizens of the European Union or foreign nationals who hold permanent residency status. A non-EU citizen might, under very specific circumstances, be able to work legally in the Netherlands without a work permit—for example, if they are the spouse of a local citizen—but these are rare exceptions rather than the rule, creating a complex web of eligibility. Furthermore, in a move to ostensibly protect workers, the legal working age for a prostitute in the Netherlands was raised from 18 to 21 in January 2013. [4]
The health and safety protocols within the industry are equally nuanced. There is no compulsory requirement for sex workers to undergo mandatory sexually transmitted disease (STD) or HIV testing across the Netherlands. While some brothels and clubs, in a display of self-regulation or perhaps savvy marketing, do arrange for their sex workers to be screened on a regular basis, there are no overarching formal guidelines or government mandates for such practices. Brothel owners and those who lease out rooms, however, frequently demand health certificates, such as the SERVSAFE test, as a prerequisite for employment or room rental, imposing their own standards where state regulation is absent. [5]
In an attempt to counter the often negative public perception and media scrutiny surrounding De Wallen, Mariska Majoor, the visionary founder of the Prostitution Information Center (PIC), orchestrated two "open days" in February 2006 and March 2007. These events, a calculated PR move, allowed curious visitors unprecedented access to some of the window brothels and peep shows, offering a glimpse behind the red curtains and providing information about the working conditions within the district. [6] [7] Majoor's influence extended beyond mere transparency; she was also instrumental in the installation of the world's first monument dedicated to sex workers. [8] This bronze statue, a poignant and often overlooked symbol, was unveiled on the Oudekerksplein, positioned directly in front of the historic Oude Kerk, during the open day in March 2007. It depicts a woman standing resolutely in a doorway, a silent, enduring tribute to a profession often shrouded in judgment. [8]
Red lights and blue lights
The iconic red light, a universally recognized symbol of the trade, is not the sole illuminator of De Wallen's windows. While cisgender women sex workers traditionally use red lights to signal their availability from their windows, a distinct visual code has evolved to aid customer differentiation. Transgender women sex workers, in a practical and subtle demarcation, employ blue lights to illuminate their windows. This seemingly minor detail serves a crucial purpose: it helps customers quickly and clearly distinguish between the services offered. Within De Wallen, the street known as Bloedstraat is particularly notable for its concentration of transgender women working under these distinctive blue lights. [9]
The landscape of male prostitution, however, remains far more opaque and regulated. The police routinely close down several male brothels each year, making it exceedingly difficult to accurately ascertain how many continue to operate within the country's legal and illicit shadows. Presently, there is only one officially recognized and legal brothel catering to male clients, known simply as "Club 21." [10] A stark contrast to the overt visibility of the female-dominated window trade.
Cannabis coffeeshops
Interspersed among the red-lit windows and historic architecture of De Wallen, and indeed throughout the Netherlands, are the distinctive cannabis coffeeshops. These establishments operate under a unique licensing system that permits them to openly sell cannabis and a range of soft drinks. Some even extend their offerings to include small, packaged food items, or, more adventurously, entire meals subtly infused with cannabis. It's important to note the specific regulations: the sale of tobacco on its own is explicitly prohibited within coffeeshops. However, many cleverly circumvent this by offering pre-rolled joints that contain a blend of cannabis and tobacco. Crucially, the sale or consumption of alcoholic beverages is strictly forbidden inside these establishments, maintaining a clear distinction from traditional bars. [11]
The history of these unique establishments is one of gradual evolution and negotiation with the law. Before the formal onset of coffeeshop licensing, some pioneers began openly selling cannabis in the 1970s. This early period was marked by constant friction with law enforcement and local councils, leading to frequent closures and raids. However, a significant turning point arrived in 1976 when the government of the Netherlands initiated steps to decriminalize the use and possession of cannabis. This legislative shift meant that possession of up to 30 grams (approximately 1 ounce) of cannabis was reclassified from a criminal offense to a misdemeanor, a move that fundamentally altered the landscape for these nascent businesses. [12]
This shift gave rise to the now-famous gedoogbeleid, or tolerance policy, which formalized the existence of coffeeshop licensing. Under this policy, coffeeshops were permitted to operate so long as they adhered to strict rules, primarily the absolute prohibition of selling hard drugs. Interestingly, a geographical restriction was also imposed: coffeeshops were not allowed to operate in certain cities located near the borders with Germany and Belgium. This was based on the concern that an increase in soft drug use in these border regions might inadvertently lead to a rise in associated crime, a rather optimistic view of cause and effect. [citation needed]
Despite the tolerance policy, the government of the Netherlands has faced continuous pressure from various Western countries to curb the proliferation and visibility of coffeeshops. This international scrutiny has resulted in a consistent pattern of closures for establishments found flouting the rules, coupled with a steadfast refusal to issue new licenses to aspiring operators. This conservative approach has been in effect since 1995, indicating a long-term strategy of containment rather than expansion. In the 1990s, recognizing the existential threat posed by these pressures, coffeeshop owners organized themselves into a union, the Bond van cannabis Detaillisten (BCD), specifically established to represent the collective interests of coffeeshops under constant duress from local councils. [citation needed]
A more recent policy, indicative of the ongoing efforts to manage and potentially reduce the presence of these establishments, mandated the closure of 26 coffeeshops specifically within the De Wallen area. This directive was implemented between September 1, 2012, and August 31, 2015, further altering the commercial fabric of the district. [13]
Abuses, human rights and tourism nuisance
The romanticized facade of De Wallen often crumbles under the harsh light of reality, revealing a darker underbelly plagued by significant human rights abuses and the corrosive presence of organized crime. A report from the UN Office on Drugs and Crime starkly identified the Netherlands as a top destination for victims of human trafficking, a grim counterpoint to its image of liberal freedom. [14] [15]
Job Cohen, the former mayor of Amsterdam, articulated this stark truth with unvarnished clarity: "We've realized this is no longer about small-scale entrepreneurs, but those big crime organizations are involved here in trafficking women, drugs, killings, and other criminal activities." [16] This acknowledgment from such a high office underscored the profound shift in the district's operational dynamics, from individual enterprise to institutionalized exploitation.
In response to these pervasive issues, groups of sex workers themselves have actively campaigned to raise awareness of their rights and advocate for safer working conditions. The Prostitution Information Centre (PIC), established in the 1990s, stands as a prominent prostitute-led organization. It offers informative tours of the area, a bold move towards demystification, and provides crucial information concerning safety protocols and the fundamental rights of individuals involved in the sex trade. [17] While sex workers operating within formal brothels are currently required to register, a proposal to extend this mandatory registration to escorts and kamer (room) workers has met with considerable opposition from certain sex worker groups. Their concern is palpable: such a mandate, they argue, could inadvertently empower pimps over the workers themselves and exacerbate the stigma already associated with the profession. Jan Fisher of De Rode Draad (The Red Thread), a prominent sex worker rights organization, articulated this fear: "The ones who want to work know how devastating the stigma could be, and will be. They will try to work outside this system and they'll be vulnerable when they're detected by the police and tax office, and the ones who are trafficked may be forced by their pimps to register so they have a kind of legal status." [19] [20] This highlights the inherent tension between regulation intended for protection and its potential for unintended, harmful consequences.
In a poignant gesture of recognition and solidarity, a statue named "Belle" was unveiled on the Oudekerksplein in 2007. Its inscription, "Respect sex workers all over the world," serves as a global plea for dignity and understanding in a profession too often demonized. [21]
Reports suggest that a significant proportion, approximately 75%, of Amsterdam's prostitutes originate from Eastern Europe, Africa, and Asia, according to an analysis produced by a former prostitute intimately familiar with the intricacies of the sex trade. [16] [22] This demographic reality underscores the complex interplay of economic necessity, migration, and exploitation that defines much of the industry.
The legal rights of sex workers are further complicated by nationality. Citizens of the 27 member states of the European Union possess the legal right to employment in the Netherlands in any work sector, including sex work, under the provisions of the European Single Market (internal market). However, citizens from other countries face a much stricter regime: they must already hold a valid residence permit (a visitor visa is insufficient) to legally work in the sex trade, as specific work permits are not issued for these jobs. [23] Research conducted by TAMPEP into the origins of migrant sex workers in the Netherlands indicates that 60% of those employed in the sector are foreign-born, with the largest proportion (43%) hailing from other European countries. [24] This figure represents a notable decrease from the 70% migrant sex workers recorded in 2006, a trend the report attributes primarily to the high internal mobility facilitated by the EU.
In 2004, the authorities in Amsterdam commissioned a critical piece of research into the pervasive issues of pimping and human trafficking within the city. The Willem Plompe institution undertook this task, with researchers led by Professor Frank Bovenkerk. [25] Their findings were unsettling: they revealed that women under the direct control of a pimp could, with alarming ease, be placed into work within legal brothels, often with the brothel owners themselves being fully aware of the women's compromised situations. The very structure of window prostitution, the study concluded, inadvertently facilitated pimps' direct control over the women, a chilling indictment of a system designed, in theory, for safety and autonomy. [26]
Amidst this complex web of commerce and exploitation, a Christian aid organization known as the 'Scharlaken Koord' (Scarlet Cord) has established a unique 'pal'-program. This initiative aims to assist prostitutes in building new social networks, offering a lifeline of community and support to those who often find themselves isolated and vulnerable. [27]
In September 2007, the city council of Amsterdam, at the determined urging of then-mayor Job Cohen, initiated a significant crackdown. Driven by serious concerns about trafficking and pimping within the district, the council compelled Charlie Geerts, a prominent property owner, to close 51 prostitution windows, a move that effectively reduced the total number of windows in De Wallen by a third. The Amsterdam authorities subsequently purchased 18 properties from Geerts, signaling a broader strategic objective: to redevelop parts of the area, introducing fashion designers and other upscale businesses, thereby attempting to gentrify and sanitize a district long defined by its illicit trade. [28]
This decision, however, was not met with universal approval. Mariska Majoor of the Prostitution Information Center and representatives from the sex worker rights group De Rode Draad vehemently decried the move. They argued that such closures would do little to reduce crime and would, in fact, merely lead to increased rents for the remaining windows and fiercer competition among sex workers, pushing vulnerabilities further underground. [28] [29]
The momentum of these reforms continued into January 2008, when the city council announced further plans to close the Rosso live sex theatre and the Banana bar strip club, both prominent establishments within the area. [30] Predictably, local business owners, sensing an existential threat to their livelihoods, coalesced to form the group "Platform 1012" (named after the district's zipcode), specifically to oppose the ongoing efforts of the Amsterdam government. [31] Ultimately, the extensive actions taken by the city government culminated in the high-profile closure of the infamous Yab Yum brothel, a symbol of the city's changing stance. [32]
By the end of 2008, Mayor Job Cohen escalated the reform agenda, announcing ambitious plans to close half of the city's 400 prostitution windows, citing suspected criminal gang activity as the primary driver. This broad initiative also targeted a portion of the city's 70 cannabis cafes and sex clubs for closure. Mayor Cohen articulated the city's rationale: "It is not that we want to get rid of our red-light district. We want to reduce it. Things have become unbalanced and if we do not act we will never regain control." [22] In 2009, the Dutch justice ministry further solidified these intentions, announcing plans to permanently close 320 prostitution "windows" across Amsterdam. [33]
Karina Schaapman, a former Amsterdam prostitute who transitioned into a role as a city councilor, offered a particularly scathing critique that resonated with a deeper, more cynical truth. While acknowledging that "There are people who are really proud of the red light district as a tourist attraction. It's supposed to be such a wonderful, cheery place that shows just what a free city we are," she countered with a stark reality: "But I think it's a cesspit. There's a lot of serious criminality. There's a lot of exploitation of women, and a lot of social distress. That's nothing to be proud of." [34] Her words cut through the romanticized veneer, exposing the raw, uncomfortable truths.
However, not all voices echoed this sentiment. In 2013, Metje Blaak, who had worked in the sex trade for 25 years before finding a new path in filmmaking, offered a counter-argument, suggesting that closing legal brothels would merely force women onto the streets, into less regulated and therefore more dangerous environments. "In the window is safe, open. You can see your clients. You can see everything," she contended, highlighting a perceived, if relative, measure of safety within the established system. [35]
2019
More than a decade after former Mayor Asscher's initial efforts to reshape the Red Light District, July 2019 marked a new chapter with the announcement of a distinctly different approach by the new mayor, Femke Halsema. [36] [37] [38] [39] [40]
Mayor Halsema's administration proposed a range of options, designed to engage residents, sex workers, business owners, and all other stakeholders in a comprehensive dialogue about the district's future. A detailed report, aptly titled "The Future of Window Prostitution in Amsterdam," meticulously outlined four potential changes that would be given serious consideration. Mayor Halsema's statement encapsulated the gravity of the situation: "We must dare to think big – also about ending prostitution in the Red Light District," she declared. "Unacceptable situations have arisen, and the council is ready to consider far-reaching solutions." [41] This marked a significant departure, hinting at a potential paradigm shift rather than mere incremental adjustments.
The very existence of the Red Light District has, from its inception, been a magnet for controversy. The internal debates surrounding its future are multifaceted and often contradictory. On one side are those who advocate for increased inclusion and the greater integration of LGBTQ+ influence into the district, believing this would foster an environment that promotes safe sex work for all types of people and all gender identities. This perspective seeks to broaden the district's embrace, making it a more equitable and secure space. On the other side, there are those who argue for the outright abolition of sex work, viewing it as inherently exploitative. This camp often posits that the existence of legal sex work is a fundamental driver behind Amsterdam's escalating issues with sex trafficking. A 2019 article, highlighting the intractable nature of this problem, underscored the profound lack of accurate data: "no one is aware just how many women are in the industry, and it is described as a 'dark number'." The article further emphasized the distressing reality that many of these women are operating against their will: "Some researchers say 4,000, others say 8,000. Some say 10% are trafficked, others say 90%. Even with that lowest figure, 400 girls are selling sex against their will." [42] Such glaring discrepancies and the undeniable presence of forced labor raise profound ethical questions about the wisdom of attempting to integrate diverse populations into an industry that, for so many, remains shrouded in darkness and coercion. It suggests that perhaps, some problems are not meant to be solved by merely adjusting the lighting.