By Kalina Dickinson
When we look at the world around us, we tend to perceive everything as it is in the present moment. Right now, for example, I’m sitting in a coffee shop (Image 1). Glancing around, I see wooden tables and benches, metal school chairs, and marble surfaces. There’s a peculiar red elephant decor with blue eyeshadow and a tall green hat. A vintage-looking green coffee machine hums softly in the background, while the worn wooden floors beneath add to the rustic charm of the space. This is how I experience the coffee shop in its current form.
But if we think about it, this space wasn’t always a coffee shop. Did someone use to live here or own the place? What was their life like? Were they kicked out, or did they leave intentionally? What secrets lie within these walls? What are these dents here that have been painted over? Who crafted the intricate elephant on the wall? How has this wood from the table been repurposed and reshaped?
History surrounds us, even in the most ordinary places, yet it is often overlooked. The city of Utrecht—now 900 years old—is steeped in history, much of which is untold. Just the other day, I had the opportunity to join a city tour called Traces of Slavery—led by the amazing tour guide Frank—which guided us through Central Utrecht’s colonial past.
In the 16th century, Dutch ships were banned from Portuguese ports, prompting the merger of smaller companies into the East India Company (VOC), which soon monopolized trade and colonization. The VOC’s explosive demand for labor led to over a million people being forced into slavery to sustain their productions. While Utrecht had no direct offices of the VOC, many of its residents grew wealthy from their distant investments in plantations, despite never visiting or directly overseeing these operations.
During the tour, we stopped at several historic buildings, many of which, surprisingly, belong to Universiteit Utrecht today. There, Frank shared stories of the people who lived there in the 18th century, many of whom profited from the slave trade (whose names I unfortunately can’t recall accurately, as they were Dutch and difficult for me to grasp or hear). For instance, at Universiteit Utrecht’s building number 13 (Image 2), we learned about a man who moved to the city in 1767 after working at Fort Elmina in Ghana—a notorious dungeon for enslaved people.
He sold around 275 people, amassing what today would be worth 1.2 million euros. Upon returning to Utrecht, he purchased this house, using his fortune to embellish its exterior— now serving as a haunting reminder of the dark history embedded in what is now a university building (Image 3). This area was also once the center of power, home to the wealthy elite; which is striking to consider how the university now occupies these grounds, almost toying with the complex relationship between academia and colonial slavery—two separate institutions.
Another stop was at building 15A, also part of the university. In the 18th century, a man inherited several plantations in Suriname, including eight with over 1,100 enslaved workers. He never set foot on these plantations, instead managing them from afar. Interestingly, these plantations were given pleasant, spa-like names to obscure their brutal reality, a stark contrast to the cruelty that took place there. This raises questions about the Dutch identity and the prevailing idea that slavery only happened “over there” in the colonies, allowing people in the Netherlands to distance themselves from their colonial history. But, the inscriptions on buildings like 13 tell a different story, revealing how deeply entangled many Dutch were, even without being physically present on the plantations.
We also visited House 16, where a woman who worked as admin in the VOC moved to in 1736. Along with her she brought a “servant,” which was explicitly mentioned in the archives. The use of the term “servant,” Frank implied, was to perhaps obscure the fact that the servant was likely enslaved, especially since Dutch law prohibited bringing slaves into the Netherlands under the guise that slavery didn’t exist within the country. However, behind the house is a stable with a living quarter, which was likely where the servant lived, further suggesting her true status as an enslaved person.
Thus, perhaps it’s time to take a closer look at the Dutch national identity—often associated with being white and Christian—and the widespread perception of the Netherlands as a nation without racism, a view held by much of the world. A more critical, historically informed approach to this identity is essential. It’s not just about examining the past, but also challenging those who claim innocence. You can try to wash away the bloodstains of history, but the marks remain. The choice is whether to acknowledge that stain or try to cover it.