“The grandmother of my grandmother was enslaved in Suriname” 

Every year the abolition of slavery is commemorated and celebrated during Keti Koti in the Oosterpark. Heritage studies student Lateesha Verweij (25) attends every year with her Surinamese family. “Sometimes people say that it is so long ago. But it is not: if you start counting generations, slavery is still awfully close.” 

What does Keti Koti mean to you?

“I have a large Surinamese family, and it's quite difficult to get them all together, but on Keti Koti we're almost all there. For as long as I can remember, we have been celebrating freedom together and commemorating the end of slavery. For me personally, Keti Koti is also a moment of contemplation. I think it is important to reflect on my ancestors, the resistance, and the fight they put up so that I can live the life I want. There is still much to be done, but it is nothing compared to how they lived back then.”

“My aunt and father have been working for some time to find out where our own ancestors came from. In the online archives you can find a lot since you can now go as far back as 1760. Certain discoveries are shared in our family app, for example, photos of my grandmother's grandmother, who was brought from Nigeria to a plantation in Suriname and enslaved. When slavery was abolished, she was 97. Because she had so many children and had thus produced “good slaves,” she was allowed to stay in a cottage in the yard on the plantation. She was so old she had nowhere to go. A very sad story.” 

How does the history of slavery still affect you today?

“I think in a lot of ways, including with things not directly related to skin color. But think of the whole capitalist system we now live in: it is s a direct result of the VOC mentality, (Dutch East India Company, ed.) as former Prime Minister Jan Peter Balkenende once called it. Our work mentality, the Golden Age; that's how the Netherlands made a lot of money.” 

“The downside is that this happened on the backs of others. During the VOC period, black people were dehumanized and turned into objects. When enslaved people were transported, any sick people were thrown overboard. And I think the feeling of many blacks that they are not allowed to be here and are not considered full human beings stems from the mentality of those days. Racism still exists, and the division between black and white still exists. We are not all people; no, we are white people and black people. When my aunts went to work, my grandmother advised them to straighten their hair or put on a wig: frizzy hair was seen as unprofessional.” 

Lateesha Verwey

You're studying art history. You spoke Wednesday night at the Keti Koti dialogue table organized by the UvA that you are often the only black student there. How does that feel to you?

“I am heavily outnumbered as a student of color. When I started my bachelor's six years ago, out of 70 freshmen, I was the only person of color. I'm used to it because at my high school in Amsterdam-Zuid, out of 1,600 students, black students could be counted on two or three hands.”

“I spoke yesterday at the dialogue table about how during a lecture a (white) professor was discussing a work by Rembrandt in which a Moor was depicted. Discussion ensued as to whether we could still use this term, but it was conducted by four white male part-time students in their 60s. I felt lonely as the only person of color and did not dare say anything. I told this story at the dialogue table and many people present recognized the story, the feeling that when you enter a room you immediately scan it to see if there is someone who looks like you.” 

Why is it so important to see someone who looks like you?

“I think it is a kind of primitive need, an instinct to look for 'allies.' In the case study above, it would have helped if there had been another person of color in the room. Then we could have looked at each other during the discussion and perhaps said something about it more easily. It's all about representation. There is now a movie about the mermaid Ariel, and the reaction of young girls is: look, a princess who looks like me! That feeling of wanting to belong somewhere remains even when you are older. In a lecture hall or other public space you still appeal to visual aspects of people and look for a form of security: having someone there with the same characteristics as you is something that feels safe.” 

As a student of color, what do you find lacking in your Art History program, both personally and in terms of content?

“First of all, more dark-skinned professors and fellow students. I had lectures by a dark-skinned professor who had restored ‘The Girl with the Pearl Earring.’ So cool to see her, I thought: so I can do something like that later. Content-wise, it is also striking that in my undergraduate studies, I had a course called ‘Introduction to Art History,’ but which has now changed to ‘Introduction to Western Art History’ because in the textbook there were two chapters that were not about the Western world: Egyptian and Eastern history. And we skipped exactly these two chapters in the undergraduate program. The emphasis during the course was very much on Western art. This is also a trickle-down effect from colonialism: the focus on qualities of the West, where everything is optimal. With that attitude, other continents fall by the wayside, and that's still very bad.”  

What was it like for you to tell such a personal story during the dialogue table? 

“Very nice. Because I am also an actress, I am used to being in front of a large audience. But it was exciting to tell such a personal story. Halfway through, I did get emotional. I hope I can inspire others and that the new generation of black children will not have to struggle with their skin color like my father did. Thankfully, for me personally it wasn't too bad. I've been involved in theater from a young age. In addition to my academic career, it's nice to be so hands-on, to be able to express my pain and the wrongs in the world today creatively and have my voice heard that way.”