In May 1945, as the guns fell silent and Nazi occupation ended, the streets of the Netherlands were filled with joyous crowds celebrating liberation. But amid the jubilation, another, darker spectacle unfolded—a brutal reckoning for women labeled as moffenmeiden, or “German girls.” These were Dutch women who had engaged in relationships with German soldiers during the war, and for this, they would pay a humiliating price.
The exhibition “Cut for the Enemy” at the Nederlands Volksbuurtmuseum in Utrecht, which ran from May to August 2016, confronted this painful chapter of Dutch history. It focused on the violent public shaming of these women—rituals of humiliation in which their heads were forcibly shaved, their faces smeared with mud, and their clothes ripped away. Jeering crowds gathered to watch, some laughing, some cheering, others simply staring. In the chaos of a liberated nation, these women became scapegoats for years of suffering under Nazi rule.
But why did this happen? The exhibition posed a haunting question: what drove the crowd’s fury, and how did those who witnessed it feel afterward?
The Netherlands, like much of Europe, had suffered deeply under Nazi occupation. Starvation, executions, forced labor, and widespread betrayal had left deep scars on the national psyche. For many Dutch citizens, the women who had consorted with German soldiers were seen as traitors—symbols of collaboration and shame. Their public punishment became a form of popular justice, a way for the angry and wounded populace to lash out at those they considered symbols of betrayal.
Yet the exhibition also revealed the uncomfortable truth that this mob justice was not just a spontaneous outburst—it was an expression of deeper social tensions. Many of the accused women were young, poor, and often isolated. Some had engaged with German soldiers out of love, others for survival—trading companionship for food or protection in a brutal, occupied world. But to the crowd, such nuances were irrelevant. These women became targets because they were visible, vulnerable, and, most importantly, powerless.
“Cut for the Enemy” highlighted not just the suffering of the moffenmeiden but also the disturbing role of the onlookers. Some who witnessed the shaming participated actively, others stood by in silence, and a few later expressed regret. The exhibition’s photographs and testimonies forced visitors to confront the psychology of the crowd—how ordinary people, in the name of righteousness or revenge, can become agents of cruelty.
The exhibit’s impact lay in its refusal to provide easy answers. It showed that beneath the surface of liberation lay a deep well of anger, fear, and shame. Those who shaved the women’s heads may have believed they were enacting justice, but in reality, they were inflicting another form of violence. And for those who watched, their silence was also a form of complicity.