This is an opinion published by Parool and written by Kris van der Veen (GroenLinks), Lian Heinhuis (PvdA), Itay Garmy (Volt), Anke Bakker (Partij voor de Dieren), Wout Deterink (VVD), Nilab Ahmadi (De Vonk), Erik Schmit (D66) and Carla Kabamba (Partij voor Morgen).
Amsterdam is a city of freedom and imagination. A city that celebrates its hyper-diversity: with raw edges, and with voices that are loud or hesitant. We cherish, celebrate, and protect that progressive spirit. Next year, Amsterdam will welcome the world for WorldPride: a celebration of freedom that is only credible if we cherish the places where that freedom is lived every day.
But anyone tracking the queer spaces in this city sees how doors are closing more often: from cafés and clubs to community spaces. These are not ordinary hospitality venues, and it is not just about nightlife culture; they are spaces where you dared to exist for the first time. Where you were seen, not questioned. Those are values we cannot do without if we don’t want to lose Amsterdam. And when those spaces disappear, the city becomes quieter in exactly the places where it is most alive.
Since 2010, the landscape of queer nightlife in Amsterdam has changed noticeably. While there were around 40 cafés, bars, and clubs back then, there are now about 25. In the past two years, another six places closed their doors: the traditional pub Amstel Fifty Four, the Caribbean gay bar Reality, Lola the Green Aardvark in East, the lesbian café B’Femme, the fetish bar The Web, and Café Brug34. And while Bar Pamela in Old West tries to stay afloat via a fundraiser, you can see how vulnerable these places are.
A slowly declining trend
These are not signs of disappearance, but of change: the character of queer nightlife is shifting, renewing, and moving. New initiatives are emerging, such as Club Raum, the QueerHub, Bar Bario, and Bar Buka, but they often cannot root firmly, supported as they are by volunteers, temporary energy, and a community that has to rise up again and again whenever a place falters. Whoever places these developments side-by-side over fifteen years does not see a straight line, but a slowly declining trend, with new peaks and losses every time.
We hear you thinking: but many hospitality businesses are having a hard time. And that is true. Entrepreneurs are struggling with rising costs, staff shortages, changing nightlife behavior, rising rents, and permit processes that sometimes last longer than a business can bear. That reality matters. But for many queer places, there is something else: they do not just revolve around revenue, but around a community that finds a home there.
These establishments harbor life stories; they offer safety, comfort, and discovery. They save lives in a time when the queer community struggles above average with suicide, loneliness, addiction, and sexual violence. That is precisely why these places deserve our support, now and in the future: freedom is never to be taken for granted, and certainly not in the places where it is celebrated first and most fiercely.
Safe haven in a "brown pub"
The story of queer Amsterdam did not begin yesterday. One hundred years ago, Bet van Beeren opened her Café ’t Mandje on the Zeedijk: a place that, despite everything that has changed, still exists as a silent witness to what a queer space can mean. In a time when homosexuality was taboo, her traditional brown pub became a safe haven.
And that value remains unchanged: every week, new people still find that first moment of breathing space in cafés like Prik, Saarein, Queen’s Head, de Trut, Spijkerbar, Montmartre, or the NYX. The first space where you don’t have to pretend. Where holding someone’s hand requires no special courage, other than the ecstasy of being in love. Where you tentatively touch or kiss another person and experience that no one looks up. Here, they might not know your name yet, but they do understand you.
Next year, we celebrate WorldPride 2026. We will show the world how progressive and free our city is. And every year, hundreds of people experience their first Pride here: their first Canal Parade, their first protest, their first night without a mask. Those moments of coming home exist by the grace of the places that carry this city.
These places are not an afterthought
That is why we have one clear call to the organizers of WorldPride: give all those colorful Amsterdam queer cafés, clubs, and community centers a central place in the programming. Let them participate, speak, and decide. Use this momentum to strengthen them, because these places are not an afterthought: they are the foundation upon which WorldPride rests.
Without them, there is no freedom, no culture, no history to celebrate, and no future to usher in. Give them the visibility, the stage, and the place they deserve: only then is WorldPride our story.
