Ode to Bet van Beeren | A great advocate for the freedoms and rights of the gay and lesbian community in Amsterdam

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Dear tough Bet,

I am writing you this letter to honor you as an Amsterdam Stoer Wijffie, I may say 'tough bitch'.

And I mean 'bitch' in a very positive way! Just the name you were given at birth Bet a great first name, short, powerful and lesbian-like. And your last name did not lie either, van Beeren (sounds like bears in Dutch) and that 'van'  is not important, but Beren is really right. You never saw any bears on the road and if there were, you tore through them on your motorcycle in your tough leather jacket, hood on your head, possibly with a new love on the back, so that they drove off the road. Lovely and then in those days! And then we are talking about 1927 when you bought t' Mandje (the basket) from your cousin Toon Engelen and changed the name immediately. From Amstelstroom to t' Mandje and you came up with that idea because your mother brought you food every day in a small basket. And that's kind of how it feels there, like a little basket where you can score a drink with all kinds of friends. And you turned that into a gay and lesbian pub, a super place for people who didn't want to hide their orientation. The pub became an important symbol in gay history for Amsterdam. But everyone was welcome, sailors, prostitutes, artists, and ordinary citizens, in short, everyone! Going back to your background for a moment, you came from a family with 14 children and early on you knew you were attracted to women. Really very brave in those days. You never concealed it either, it is what it is. I saw a picture of you as a little girl in one of those stripy dresses and indeed such a lovely dress did not suit you. You look a little displaced. Not that you didn't look sweet, certainly, but the tough side predominated even then. And you were not afraid of the devil!

You were already known on the Zeedijk before you bought the 't Mandje, where you sold bokkum (smoked herring) and got the nickname, Betje Bokkum. You already knew the neighborhood very well.

In t'Mandje people had mutual respect for each other and if someone didn't follow the rules, yours of course, he or she, regardless of who it was and what position you held in daily life, was thrown out at head and butt. There was no kissing or flirting at the bar or anywhere else, and two days a year dancing was allowed, on Queens and Liberation Day. Then the billiard table was taken apart and pushed aside and a dance floor was laid out. You could dance with whoever you wanted, men with each other, women with each other, it didn't really matter, it was all possible!

You had your own habits, many male visitors had their necktie cut off and hung on the ceiling as a souvenir. Souvenirs hung and stood everywhere in the café, they could be business cards, dentures or shoes. You also disappeared from time to time when you were in a bad mood with the excuse: I'm going to get a pack of cigarettes. Then you went on an adventure and didn't come back for a few weeks. That was how you were Bet and you could allow yourself to be who you were and also to be loved in your environment. Don't touch our Bet!

The last years of your life you didn't feel much like being in the bar anymore and left a lot to your 21 years younger sister Greet. You settled at the corner of the bar and that was a fine place as far as you were concerned.  

You died at the age of 65 on July 16, 1967 and you were laid to rest for two days on the billiard table in your beloved bar. That way everyone could say goodbye to you.

My memories of t'Mandje go back to a number of years ago. I was then a hat/bag designer, now a photographer, and participated in a hat show at the Oba. There I met Luna Lunettes, a well-known lady in the LGBTQ+ world. She loved hats and for a small show she was going to give in t 'Mandje, she asked me to borrow some hats. Fine of course and that's how I ended up there the first time. The second time I attended a performance by someone who worked with animals, snakes, crocodiles. He's in jail now, was a bit of a wrong and naughty character. I still have a picture where I'm standing with one of those big snakes around my neck. Would never do it again, really can't! Later I performed there myself, I participated in a jazz workshop, we rehearsed upstairs and later performed downstairs. Really great fun to be so close to the audience and to sing.    

t' Mandje was closed for 26 years because your sister Greet could not make decisions, open or not open! But during the 1998 Gay Games she opened the cafe for another week, partly as a tribute to you and the games.

Fortunately it still exists thanks to both of you tough ladies who belonged and belong very much to Amsterdam and did their part to gay and lesbian world in a difficult time. Unfortunately in it a long struggle, especially at this time where aggression against these groups still exists and increases. Both strong women belong to Amsterdam and its gay world. Hence my tribute in the first place to you Bet and t'Mandje! But also Greet did her best, was popular and had a big following. You are great cool girls and belong to Amsterdam's history!