Gerda Sonnevelt
Gerda Sonnevelt worked at Hoogovens for 45 years and was a strong advocate for women in the workplace.
She was fifteen when she started. Through neighbours, she entered the company — first in cleaning, later working with drivers. It was large-scale, dynamic work; she loved the activity. “Everything was in motion,” she says. “Something was always happening.” But it was also a man’s world — she felt that immediately.
Through the union, she took courses and learned to stand her ground. She had no formal qualifications, but she had curiosity. “I knew nothing, but I learned quickly,” she says. She read reports, practised speaking, observed others. When she ran for the works council, it was unusual: twenty-six men, one woman. “You had to prove yourself — and then prove it again. But I refused to be pushed aside.”
Together with other women, she founded a women’s group, later the Women’s Affairs committee. They wanted to address not just their position, but broader issues: training, career opportunities, safety. Topics that did not naturally reach the agenda. The line between humour and humiliation was thin, and she learned to name it. “Men know exactly where the line is,” she says.
“But without policy, everything remains optional.”
Most women at Hoogovens worked in cleaning, catering, or office roles. Technical jobs were for men. That changed slowly, partly due to internal pressure. Training programmes, discussions, small breakthroughs — but never without struggle.
At home, she raised her son alone. She remembers meetings that ran late into the evening, while he waited at home. Sometimes she would stand up mid-meeting. “Sorry, I’m leaving. My child is alone.” It was unusual — but she did it anyway.
After years in the works council, she moved to the Training & Development department, where she gave courses to workers and managers: communication, teamwork, conversation skills. She taught people how to speak openly without fear of consequences. “Change only happens when there is safety,” she often said.
But safety remained fragile. Fear was a constant factor — not of losing one’s job, but of being labelled difficult. Those who spoke up risked losing opportunities. “So you kept quiet,” she says. “And it’s still like that.
People have become afraid — afraid to stand out. That makes the company smaller, more constrained.”
The pride of the past has faded. People used to say, proudly: I work at Hoogovens. Now it is rarely said aloud. “People are not ashamed,” she says, “but they know: it’s not what it used to be. Too many cuts, too little trust. People are no longer invested in.”
Gerda grew up in a world where soot and steel were normal.
Windowsills black, laundry dried indoors. She knew no different. Later, as awareness of health grew, she realised what that air meant for people. “A lot has improved,” she says, “but in hindsight never enough. The core has not been addressed: the coke plants, the coal, the dirty air.”
She follows the green steel plans with scepticism. “Nice words, but it’s become remarkably quiet,” she says. “There is always consultation, always policy — but the core remains untouched. Meanwhile, people get sick, people die.”
She does not expect closure anytime soon. Thousands still work there, with families, mortgages, entire lives built around it. “They know exactly how that works,” she says. “Everything is interconnected.”
She looks back with quiet pride, but also doubt. “A lot has happened,” she says.
“But some things just don’t change. Not really.”