A century later, in 2015,  I was volunteering in an asylum seekers’ center. In the facility reserved for vulnerable women – the only part of the center that had a lock. I didn’t speak the language of those women. But nevertheless I was keenly aware of the competition between the women, when they spent time in the recreation room.

The women used their beauty as an asset, but at this same time this kind of behaviour was frowned upon. Jealousy and recognition alternatingly took the front row. My observations in that asylum center were what led me to make the play Marieke, Marieke. Because not a lot has changed in a hundred years.