Ode to de hedendaagse Amsterdamse vrouw | Daughter of Mokum

Dear Daughter of Mokum,

Throughout the centuries you have fought, conquered and inspired. You are the soul of this city, intertwined with its canals and streets. So let me address you, not as a distant admirer, but as a relay runner passing the torch of your story to the next generation.

While your life was most likely not always doom and gloom, you were often the driving force behind the prevailing structure. Your rights were limited; you couldn't vote, you couldn't go to school and, in theory, you weren't allowed to own property or do business. But while your husband was at sea and you were guarding the fort, you kept the books and your children alive. I imagine that in the shadow of imposing canal houses you toiled, laughed, and sometimes cried in silence. But at a time when the world wanted to limit you, you showed all your versatility. You stood beside your husband in the hosiery store, arranged the provisioning of ships, and even ventured into painting. Although the law made you subservient, in practice you proved your indispensability as a business partner. 

As the city grew, so did your determination. You demanded better education and voting rights. Remember how your voice trembled but did not break, when you first stood up in a meeting of the suffragettes? How your heart pounded but your back remained straight, when you became the first female student, hidden behind a curtain, to enter the college benches? You made your way through a forest of “no” and “can't”, like a ship breaking through ice floes.

Amsterdam, the beloved city, did not always love you as you deserved. Sometimes she was even a danger to your own life. She let you wander down dark alleys, stifled your voice in smoky cafes and trampled on your dreams in the Red Light District. But you, unyielding daughter of Mokum, always rose again.

You are the woman who ran an empire from a back room, while the world thought you were just darning stockings. You are the rebellious voice that refused to remain silent, even when silence was safer. You are the mother who taught her children to read by candlelight, knowing that knowledge is power.

Dear daughter of Mokum, your struggle is far from over. As you walk the streets of our beloved city, you still carry a burden you shouldn't. The fear you feel as you walk home at night, the tension you experience in your own home - these are silent witnesses of a society that still needs to learn how to truly protect its daughters.

In doctors' consulting rooms, you are still fighting for understanding and recognition. Your body is still too often misunderstood or ignored by a medical world still struggling to understand the complexities of the female body. Your health, your well-being, deserve better - you deserve better.

And as you make your way through the corporate jungle of the Zuidas or the creative hubs of North, you still bang your head against that persistent glass ceiling. Despite your talent, your commitment, your undeniable contribution to this city, some doors remain closed. The classic gender roles your ancestors tried to break still cast their shadows across your path.

You may sometimes feel powerless, as if you can't make a change in life today. But realize this: you have the power to shape the future. In the values you pass on and in the stories you tell, you plant the seeds of change. Your struggles, your victories, no matter how small they may seem, are the foundations on which the next generation will build. In every girl you inspire, in every boy you teach to respect, you create a better future for Amsterdam.

But know this, Amsterdam Woman: you are not alone. You are every woman who has ever set foot on this ground, who has made her voice heard in this city. From the fishwives at the market to the professors at the university, from the painters in hidden studios to the CEOs in glass towers. Amsterdam is yours, as much as anyone else's. You built her with your sweat, fed her with your blood, nurtured her with your love. And she will hear you, she must hear you, because your voice is the voice of the city itself.

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