Ode to Francisca | Free Black woman

This text was translated using AI and may contain errors. If you have suggestions or comments, please contact us at info.ode@amsterdammuseum.nl.

Dear Francisca,

Do not be alarmed when reading this letter - I am writing to you from the future, the year 2024 to be precise. Amsterdam will celebrate its 750th anniversary next year, with all its 931,748 inhabitants, including a significant number of Afro-Amsterdammers. The black community is no longer limited to the area around Jodenbreestraat, but has found its home in various neighbourhoods and newly reclaimed parts, such as Zuidoost and Noord.

Amsterdam is my hometown, the city that gave me freedom and security. I cherish the realisation that this freedom is not to be taken for granted, nor is my presence as a black African woman. You, and the countless women who followed in your footsteps, paved this path for me.

This letter is a tribute, to a pioneer among Afro-Amsterdammers who helped shape the DNA of our beloved city. You may be thinking: why to me? The answer is short: your story intrigues me, despite - or: perhaps precisely because of - the embarrassing lack of information about your life. I am very curious about who you were, how you found your way to Amsterdam and how you managed to make a living here. How many years were you granted? What is your surname?

Dear Francisca, don't be disappointed when I tell you that the history books have concealed your name. The future residents of our city will rarely come across traces of your existence, those of your community... and that in a city that has kept every sliver of history as a footnote, that has put everything in writing. The echoes of your stories hang over the murky waters of the canal. The history of Amsterdam was selectively recorded by the rulers of the time - they left us with fragments, unsolved riddles and blank pages in the great book of our city.

Of your existence, we knew sadly little until recently. Anyone who wants to discover your story must descend into the dark, dusty cellars of the archives. There, like patient archaeologists, historians lay the pieces of your life side by side to sketch a modest silhouette of your person.

It is a portrait of you as a cornerstone of the community, a woman who carries others on her strong shoulders and as a true matchmaker who unites hearts. From documents stored away for centuries, they conclude that in 1632 you led a modest existence as a free woman in a basement flat in the middle of a small enclave of black Amsterdammers near Jodenbreestraat.

The scarce information historian Dienke Hondius and city archivist Mark Ponte manage to draw from notarial records reveals that you were part of a community that went through life independently and fearlessly, willing to stand up for themselves and each other when the situation called for it.

The archives reveal an image of a leader, a woman who played a crucial role in community building. Ponte confirms it: ‘A woman who actively sought out black men and women - coming into town - and welcomed them into her home.’ You probably worked in the ministry, as a free woman, but still in a society that had to get used to your presence.

Indeed, in the archives, researchers find unmistakable signs of anti-black sentiment, discrimination and exclusion of Africans between 1627 and ‘47... while the ships of the Dutch VOC and WIC were preparing for their gruesome voyages and laying the foundations for their criminal slavery.

The Amsterdam of your future, of my present, still struggles with the racist system you suffered under. It is still the city that holds freedom, heroism, determination and mercy, but it is also the city built on the prosperity of slavery and systematic exploitation.

De tragiek en magie van Amsterdam zijn twee kanten van dezelfde medaille. De golven van de historische grachten dragen de pijn, vreugde en het verdriet van een stad die enerzijds aan de toekomst bouwt en anderzijds rust op het bloed, het zweet en de tranen van de mensen die geen stem hadden. Dat geschiedenis soms ondraaglijk kan zijn is een feit, maar diezelfde geschiedenis wordt gevormd door mensen zoals jij, Francisca – mensen die alles geven. Jouw verhaal, hoewel grotendeels verzwegen, is verweven in dit complexe weefsel van Amsterdams verleden. 

Jij hebt, wellicht onbewust, een onuitwisbare indruk achtergelaten op het fundament van onze stad. Jouw moed, jouw volharding in het vormen van een gemeenschap heeft de weg voor de latere generaties geplaveid. 

De schrijvers, dichters en kunstenaars van míjn tijd zoeken haastig, en soms wanhopig, naar de verborgen verhalen van weleer. Ze zoeken naar bewijs dat onze aanwezigheid dieper reikt dan de moderne geschiedenis, naar bevestiging dat we zeggenschap mogen hebben over het verleden en de toekomst, dat ‘I Amsterdam’ niet slechts een marketingslogan is, maar een historisch bewezen feit. Wie zichzelf niet herkent in de verhalen van het verleden, zal slechts met moeite de contouren van de toekomst invullen. We gebruiken onze verbeelding om verbinding met jou te maken, om je geest terug te halen en voor inspiratie in te zetten. 

Lieve Francisca, je nalatenschap leeft voort in de veerkracht van de gemeenschap die je hielp vorm te geven, in de straten die je bewandelde, en in de harten van hen die nu, eeuwen later, je verhaal proberen te reconstrueren. Je hebt alles gegeven, en daarmee heb je de lijnen van onze gedeelde geschiedenis mede bepaald. 

Shukran 

Ayaan