Thousands of undocumented migrants keep the Netherlands clean. They are indispensable, but also always remained invisible. Until the corona pandemic forced us to notice them. With the opening of the eyes to their vulnerability, does emancipation come?
On Wednesday mornings, the heart of Amsterdam feels deceptively calm. Red velvet curtains are still closed, as are the wok restaurants, coffee shops and the hop-on-hop-off office. Here and there you see a cleaner brushing away the entertainment and shame of the night before. People hop back and forth against the cold on the sidewalk of the Oudezijds Voorburgwal; half cigarettes come out from behind ears to be lit again. You hear Dutch, but also every other possible language.
“Who’s last?” A woman with a gruff voice and nervous movements has come on her feet. A man half-heartedly raises his hand. ‘Then I’ll be next,’ she says in broken English and then positions herself close to the canal-green door.
All eyes are on that same door, number 12. Now that it’s almost ten o’clock, that door could open at any moment. When a woman in a white doctor’s coat appears in the opening to hand out numbers, the group pushes forward. In order…