The History Behind Doors in Europe

We’ve taken for granted the way doors represent our values, opinions, and status. Today, most of us probably don’t think twice about why we even use doors or what and why people try to hide behind them. 

Lately, I’ve decided to become more than just a tourist and get curious about the history behind ordinary objects I see as I travel.

Doors are my latest investigative obsession. Once you appreciate them for more than the aesthetically pleasing backdrops they give to Instagram photos, you realize how much more there is to learn about yourself and human nature.

The modern door comes from ancient Egypt, where the most sophisticated locks we still use were invented. This is the clearest example of how and why my curiosity for doors runs deeper than architectural interests.

It took me staring at the Gates of Paradise, one of the oldest doors in Europe, to ask the questions that pushed me down the rabbit hole towards learning more about my African heritage.

Sadly, that’s usually how the story goes. Like the adage says, until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter. Even as a proud African, I realized that it usually takes seeing a Western cultural monument for me to investigate and realize its significance often comes from Afro-, Indo-, or Arabian origin. 

For example, before the Gates of Paradise, a symbol of the Catholic Church constructed in 15th century Italy, the San people of Southern Africa were engraving religious iconography on the entrances of their homes during the Stone Age. In other words, the practice of using symbols on doors to express the authority and beliefs of those inside them was adopted from African tradition by one of Europe’s strongest empires.

The Power Brokers

Over time, those with enough money and influence in Europe could use doors like currency, buying the level of loyalty and social ranking they wanted. Doors were often exchanged between churches and government houses, representing how these two political parties in ancient and Renaissance Europe switched dominance over one another. 

Lots of people take photos in front of the Baptistery of Florence’s famous Gates of Paradise without knowing that back in the day, they were basically the first investment in influencer marketing. The doors were built using funding from the Medici family, one of the richest dynasties in need of a rebrand after multiple plagues almost obliterated their net worth. Once they regrouped, they dominated both the Roman government and the Catholic Church, with four popes reigning from the late 1400s to the early 1600s. One of them was Pope Leo X, the one who excommunicated the Martin Luther in 1521 (more on that in a bit). His successor, Pope Clement VII, paid big bucks to renovate the Laurentian Library, hiring the famous painter Michelangelo to design the library entrance and solidifying his family’s reputation as leaders of the culture. 

As doors switched hands from governments to the Church, so did the embellishments on them and within the spaces they enclosed. Therefore, the symbols carved into the doors told you who was calling the shots behind them. Clement needed to buy back the Laurentine Library after his forefather, Cosimo de' Medici, lost it to the Roman republic after being exiled. The geometric patterns on the library’s floors, called the “Medici panel”, act as labels showing this transfer of control. Conservators today and back then work hard to preserve the look and quality of these sites because of the influential people they represent. Which is probably why ordinary people realized they could also use these doors to bring attention to the issues affecting them, but often ignored by people in power. 

The Disruptors

If you’ve ever had someone show up at your home unannounced, you understand one of the primary functions of doors—setting boundaries. Power brokers like the monarchy and the Catholic Church clergy would use doors and a variety of other methods to keep people of “ordinary” status out of sight, and out of mind.

In this context, Martin Luther and protestors like him make more sense. Crossing that threshold between you and the powers that be was a bold act of defiance. That act led Martin Luther’s 95 Theses to go viral after he (according to legend) posted his grievances against the Catholic Church on the doors of Castle Church in Germany. So many reprints of his theses were made and distributed that church leaders demanded sanctions against him only weeks later.

There were also understated ways doors were used to broadcast revolutionary ideas. For the Quakers of 17th century Britain, the design (or lack thereof) for their meetinghouses was supposed to clearly communicate their protest against capitalism. Placing plain wooden planks as doors was a deliberate way for Quakers to differentiate themselves from the rest of society, who were often framing their doors with stone and topping them with decorated fanlights. Resisting conformity or the temptation to accumulate and show off wealth also played a huge role in the other ways Quakers disrupted British culture. Refusing to greet so-called “social superiors” with deference and speaking out against the slave trade that was making them rich got the Quakers jailed or harassed to the point of leaving Europe for freedom in the American colonies.

The Oppressed

By the end of my trip, I realized doors represent the promising and harmful parts of our history and future. I saw more clearly how easy it is for us to use the same tool to express liberating and destructive mindsets by the time I reached Lagos, Portugal.

I mentioned initially that the doors we use today were invented in Africa. Eventually, another continent (Europe) would adopt this invention and soon use it to oppress the people from its place of origin.

The Mercado de Escravos, or Slave Market of Lagos, is the clearest example of this. If you visit the Algarve you can still see the gates that trapped up to 5.8 million African people sold to Portuguese or other European buyers. In a nearby pit, dead bodies of Africans who didn’t survive their capture would pile up, left without a proper burial or considerate thought by their captors.

Here, I saw how doors physically and symbolically shut people out of society, stripping away their humanity and agency. 

As different as they were in privilege and ideology, people like the Medicis, Martin Luther, or the Quakers had this in common: in Europe, they had the freedom to use doors for self-advocacy and expression. That wasn’t an option for my ancestors. 

These people, from the land that created our current concept of doors, would look at them in defeat. The world outside these doors considered them lesser beings because they were behind them. The African people forced behind the gates in Lagos had their true selves and stories misrepresented by those who put them there. 

All the doors I explored, from Mercado de Escravos to the Gates of Paradise, ultimately revealed the dangers of gatekeeping. Since I started collecting these stories, I’ve thought about being a more intentional traveler, considering how I can do sightseeing with a purpose. One of my recommendations is to join groups like the African Lisbon Walking Tour or read books like Black Africans in Renaissance Europe to push your thinking outside of the box when visiting tourist attractions in Europe. I gravitated toward these options due to my identity as an African. Still, there are so many more resources and excursions that I encourage you to seek out, that will help you unlock the connections between Europe and the regions that enriched its historical landscape.