I visited the Red Light District twice during my two-week stay in Amsterdam. The first time I went with two other Asian girls. We felt a little uncomfortable at what we encountered there and left after fifteen minutes of stay. I found myself unsatisfied after the first visit, which was too brief and superficial. The second time I went by myself, with the purpose of personally observing and experiencing the unique culture of prostitution and sex in the so-called “city of sin.”
The name of Red Light District may evoke some stereotyped images of men sneaking obscenely into hidden dark rooms around the corner, or women in sexy ensembles with heavy makeup strutting down the streets in platform heels. However, unlike what many people think, Amsterdam’s Red Light District, or De Wallen as the area is known to locals, is nothing like that.
Here you will find people of any kind, all ages and both gender. There are millions of visitors coming here each year. Group of friends or couples, mostly foreigners, can be seen walking down the streets along the canal. They often have curious looks and coy smiles on their faces. I even saw kids sitting on the stairs besides a sex shop, fondling a yellow cat and telling their mummy how cute the cat was.
(Photo: in front of the Museum of Prostitution.)
But here you will certainly also find boisterous groups of men smoking and ogling at prostitutes, who stand inside glass windows along the streets and show off their bodies with inviting, seductive smiles. Some lone men look serious at first. But when they glance at a window prostitute, they will lean forward with one corner of their lips slowly and slyly raised.
The first time I went to De Wallen, my friends and I were approached by a few men. One of them was a middle-aged, crippled short man in black suit. The man spoke English with a slight Italian accent. He walked deliriously toward us, spat on the ground and declared in a hoarse voice: “I love these women!” We also came across a man who opened a door and poked his head into one of the rooms to flirt with a transgender prostitute. The prostitute angrily asked him to go away since he refused to pay. Suddenly, a tall man approached us from behind in the small alley. “Hey, hey.” He whispered, while quickening his pace. We didn’t dare turn our heads and hurried back to the main street.
It was around nine, but the summer sky had not darkened yet.
As the night gets darker, more and more prostitutes appear behind the glass windows. You will see all of them confidently showing themselves from their best sides — licking lips, wiggling hips, stroking hair or tapping the glass with their lipsticks.
In front of peep shows or sex theaters — most of them share the name Casa Rosso, the lines get longer and longer. You will hear languages from all over the world while standing in line. Some speak nervously about whether they should leave or stay, while others joke excitingly about what they expect to see in the sex show.
When it gets completely dark, the gaudy red neon lights illuminate everything in sight. De Wallen now completes its moonlight transformation, from a quiet neighborhood with typical 14th century architecture, to the most boisterous district in Amsterdam at night — the both famously and notoriously known district of prostitution and sex.
It was also in the Red Light District that I learned about the importance of the demystification of sex, as well as the individualities of sex and love, despite of the word lovemaking.
I realized that, lovemaking can but doesn’t have to involve making love.
“History of the RED LIGHT DISTRICT and the culture of PROSTITUTION”
I want to pause here before going on to recount my experiences of visiting sex shops and watching sex shows. First, I want to give you a brief history of prostitutes’ working conditions in the Netherlands, and hopefully answer some secret questions that you may have in mind.
Ever since De Wallen was built in the 14th century, it has been well-known for the women inhabiting its streets. Since Amsterdam has been a trading city with a large port, sailors roamed De Wallen and sought for enjoyment. Prostitution was legal at the time, but officially visiting a prostitute was not.
When Amsterdam became Protestant at the end of the 16th century, prostitution was forbidden. But in daily life the industry still flourished, especially during the Dutch Golden Age in the 17th century, when a lot of sailors returned from their lonesome journeys to the East Indies. About a thousand women were making good money by selling physical delights for a living in Amsterdam at that time. However, sexual diseases, like gonorrhea and syphilis, were rampant.
Despite of a short-lived wave of strict morality and protest against loose sexual morals at the start of the 18th century, the profession continued to evolve. Napoleon’s occupation of the Netherlands from 1795 initiated a new phase for the Red Light District. He introduced legalized prostitution in which a prostitute had to report to the police for medical check-up. The ones with disease were prohibited from work and provided with free treatment. The policy continued even after the French left in 1813.
At the end of the 19th century, religious movements advocated against prostitution and led to bans on brothels issued by the city council. But prostitution was still not forbidden and soon flourished again. The one change was that women were no longer allowed to entice their clients standing on the streets. Instead, they had to work from behind the window. This turned out to be the beginning of window prostitution as can be seen today.
In the 1950s, five women who worked as prostitutes were brutally murdered. The public media then called for legalization of prostitution. People became aware that prostitutes were too often forced by so-called “lover boys”(human traffickers) and worked against their own will.
A few decades later, prostitution finally became a legal and official profession in 2000. Prostitutes must follow rules and pay income tax just like people in any other profession.
(Photo: commemoration of the murdered prostitutes inside the Museum of Prostitution.)
According to data recorded at the Museum of Prostitution, most of prostitutes work 4 to 6 days a week, 10 hours a day. A single visit by a customer lasts between 6 and 15 minutes on average. Successful prostitutes can entertain up to 16 customers during the 10-hour shift per day. The starting price for a short visit is 50 euros. But it may go up to several thousand euros depending on the activities. About 70% of sex workers in the Netherlands are married or have committed relationships.
In 2007, Amsterdam initiated “Project 1012,” named after the postal code of De Wallen. The objective is to further decriminalize prostitution by concentrating it on a limited area and banning criminal elements from the profession. In the meantime, the women themselves have also become more outspoken by founding Proud — a lobby group for all that are, or have been, working in erotic services in the Netherlands. As for the men — there are no gigolos, or male prostitutes, in the Red Light District except for transgenders.
“My experience of visiting the RED LIGHT DISTRICT ——sex shops, peep shows, sex shows”
The final legalization corresponds to my impression of the prostitution and sex industry here. People who worked in this profession act confidently and professionally during work. They exude pride, both in their bodies and their work.
Their sense of pride permeates the atmosphere of the whole Red Light District. I felt like I could do anything sexual here without feeling ashamed of myself. People naturally become open-minded as soon as they set foot in the district.
I casually walked into sex shops that lined the main streets and glanced at those various funky sex toys. Next to me were middle-aged couples, moms and daughters, or curious lone travelers like myself. A slim young girl with ponytail was purchasing a penis-shaped dildo near the entrance.
I also went to watch a live peep show in the “Sex Palace” theater. Inside were a dozen of cabins forming a big circle. The red neon lights, tinted with some purple and emerald shades, added to the erotic smell of the air.
People stood in line outside of the door of each cabin. There were a lot of tourists, especially couples. In front me were a Chinese couple and their friend. They all wore rimless glasses and long sleeved shirts. They were smiling nervously and discussing whether they should go one by one or all together.
In fact, on the wall there was a piece of paper outlining the instructions. Only one person is allowed at a time — except for couples, who can enter together. After entering the cabin and locking the door, you will pay at the coin machine inside. The price is two euros for two minutes.
On a big screen, it was shown that the girl performing live tonight was No. 4. I looked around and saw that outside of cabin 4 there was a particularly long line. I thought that the girl would be performing live only in cabin 4 and, therefore, also joined that line.
When it was my turn, I walked into the small cabin and locked the door. It was so small that I could hardly turn. The floor was wet and sticky. As soon as I put in the coin, the small opaque glass in front of me turned transparent.
A tall and slim white girl appeared before my eyes. Wearing only a black lace g-string, she was dancing on a black round cushion rotating on the floor. The music was playing softly on the background. She rhythmically twisted and rolled about, moving her long legs like a scissor, fondled her body and the thin strip of underwear. Her mouth also opened and closed tenderly with the beat of music.
Mixed with the erotic expression was this charismatic calmness on her face somewhat mismatched to her age.
Only then did I realize that all the cabins circled around the performer and shared the same view of the same live performance. 4 was only the number of the performer. People who got in the longest line were probably also curious first-time visitors like me.
I could even see people in other cabins through the slightly fogged glass windows. They were pressing their faces against the glass with eyes wide open. There were quite a few young couples watching together. They smiled at each other once in a while and then kept watching attentively. The window soon turned opaque again after two minutes.
I walked out for fresh air and tried to distance my emotional self from what I saw.
I tried to be an objective observer, reporter and rationalist without any preconception, so that my experience could directly influence my consciousness without any interference from emotions or prejudices.
I again wandered aimlessly on the street until I saw a long line in front of a sex theater — the iconic Casa Rosso. It was the world’s first theater to show live sex on stage.
I accidentally made eye contact with a sturdy man wearing suit and hair gel. He waved at me and asked in accented English: “Come in?” It was around 9:30pm. I joined the line. A young couple with British accent also joined the line immediately after me.
The man in suit came to us one by one to collect money. It was 46 euros for an hour, even though technically you could stay in there for as long as you want. Standing by myself, I was a little nervous. I probably looked too serious when he asked me for money, so he didn’t give me the free penis-shaped yellow lollipop that he gave to the British girl behind me. “Here’s your penis.” He said cheekily to that girl. I was a little salty about that.
Suddenly the girl behind me screamed. Then I realized that a stream of unknown liquid had fallen from somewhere above and splashed against the ground, as well as some innocent passengers. Some of it splashed on me as well. I felt disgusted and tried not to think about what it was.
I finally got in the theater at around 10. A hobo-looking old man with ragged clothes, long and dirty nails, as well as gray and unruly long hair was directing people in the very front. Only later did I find out that he was the owner of many big sex theaters in Amsterdam. His name is Jan Otten.
It was dark inside. The crimson light pervaded the whole ambiance. There were rows of chairs on a slope in front of a central stage, just like in any other theater. All seats were crammed tightly that it was often impossible to get into a row of seats without making everyone stand up. I walked down to the fourth row and sat down near the aisle.
On the stage, under the spotlight, a man and a woman were fully doing it. They performed on a rotating cushioned circle, in a variety of postures and styles.
Everything was really out there. But their movement was purely mechanical. You can even tap your feet to the beat of their body clashing. There was nothing sexy or impassioned in their eyes. They seemed fully aware that they were only performing on a stage.
The audience was a mix crowd of young and old couples, male and female singles, small tourist groups or staff-looking men. All of them were looking straight at the performers attentively. A few manager-looking men in suit, whose slick back hair reminded somehow of Marlon Brando in The Godfather, were ogling from the first row while slowly sipping cocktails in cheap plastic cups.
There were several performances rotating throughout the night. Man and woman. Woman and woman. A single woman pole dancing. (My friends later told me that they sometimes also ask for volunteers to go up to the stage. But I missed that part.)
My favorite one is the girl smoking cigar with first her mouth and then her vagina.
She was wearing a silver apple watch on her left wrist, which contrasted greatly with her white porcelain-like skin. Before doing anything else, she just sat down naked on the floor with both legs bended beside her hip. She looked straight ahead, slowly lit the thick cigar between her slim fingers and raised it to her slightly parted lips. She remained motionless and expressionless.
For a few second, her face behind the rising white smoke became as mysterious as Mona Lisa’s smile.
All of the performers were very talented and left the stage to rapturous applauses.
When a show was finished and the red curtains were dropping, the performers waved goodbye to the audience. Every single one of them looked straight ahead, while being fully naked, and waved with a confident and light-hearted smile. They looked like young actors thriving in their careers, proudly presenting their capabilities of mastering the stage.
The show was full of humor and good vibes. Everything was light and delightful. There was nothing heavy or unpleasant, at least to me. Even the bathroom was clean.
My first thought after leaving was, this is somewhere I would like to come again with my future boyfriend.
“SEX as an individual concept——the loveless sex”
Visiting the Red Light District by myself was a completely new kind of experience for me, and it absolutely blew my mind. It pushed me to reflect upon my past prejudice against sex. It pushed me to think about how to face topics related to sex with a more positive, objective, mature, and open-minded attitude.
In most cultures, sex is mystified and banished from normal conversations. People blush at the mere mentioning of it. Some parents and children may never touch the subject. It is deemed extremely inappropriate for a formal talk, and too awkward for a casual talk between average friends. Even when sex-related gossips was furtively discussed in private, people tend to sneer at those who became the main subjects of the discussion.
In some situations, people are curious, but hypocritical in front of sex.
One important cause of the mystification of sex is related to the way people look at the relationship between sex and love. In my native culture, sex is always being bound and evaluated together with love.
In fact, a friend of mine had asked me a question a few months ago — “which is more important to you, sex or love?” And I simply failed to understand the question. There had always been an instilled belief in my mind that, sex is supposed to be an act of love— one that should be performed only by two intimate persons who love each other. And I love someone in that way, I would naturally want to have sex with him as well. I couldn’t understand how sex could be considered separately from love.
“If sex is performed without love, then it becomes merely lustful and shameful.” I had then answered with contempt.
Only after my visit to Red Light District, did I understand that sex should be considered an individual concept, one that stands on its own. My old belief — of the necessary union of sex and love — restrains sexual act to one of its various forms and burdens it with a moral connotation.
The socially constructed immorality, imposed upon the “loveless” form of sex, imprints a negative connotation onto hookups, sex shows, sex toys and many other topics. It causes the mystification and banishment of sex from everyday conversations.
Of course, sex can be a spontaneous expression of love. But it really doesn’t have to be. It doesn’t entail a moral obligation to be bound up with love, unless there is a mutual acknowledgement of such an obligation in marriages or relationships. Many people consider the separation of sex and love a necessarily guilty or immoral act, like I did before my trip to Amsterdam. But is it really fair to do that regardless of the context? I don’t think so.
As long as it is a consensual act based on honesty, self-responsibility and self-conscious will, sex should be treated frankly, fairly and healthily in all of its forms — be it lustful or modest, wild or tame, playful or prudish, passionate or apathetic, energetic or languid, emotional or emotionless, loving or loveless.
The form in which sex takes place is a personal choice, not a moral one.
The legalization of prostitution is a way of demystifying sex in society and protecting sex workers, but it is a very contentious one. On one hand, if sex work is not going to disappear soon, prostitution in the black market and human trafficking can be curbed if brothels and sex workers were legitimized, licensed, medically inspected and taxed.
On the other hand, it can cause severe consequences. It is possible that the legalization of sex industry would in fact increase trafficking flows by raising demand and provide a fabricated legitimacy for organized crime. It also constructs and propagates, if without proper guidance and education among the public, a stereotyped image of women’s bodies as commodities to be bought and sold.
No matter what methods are being used to demystify sex in the society, it is important for people to realize that sex should not be used as a moral weapon against sex workers, or sex itself.
Sex exists in many forms. It really should not be morally bound and evaluated together with love regardless of the context. People should view sex with more positivity, openness, and honesty, as well as consider each individual act of sex within its own unique context.
Lovemaking can but doesn’t have to involve making love.
