It’s hard to shock a city like Amsterdam. But tucked inside a glass case at the Rijksmuseum, an unassuming tube of animal membrane is making a big splash. It is, of course, a condom, but not your average condom.

Made some 200 years ago from sheep appendix, the sheath depicts a scandalous scene: a nun and three clergymen in a suggestive pose, with the French phrase “Voilà mon choix” — “There, that’s my choice” — curling along the side. The phrase is a parody of both celibacy and the Judgment of Paris from Greek mythology, historians say.

Sex in the City

Condoms have a long and storied history. They’ve existed in various forms for thousands of years, with the earliest evidence dating back to ancient Egypt. In Renaissance Europe, they were primarily used to prevent syphilis, often made from linen or animal membranes like sheep intestines. By the 18th and early 19th centuries, condoms remained expensive, reusable items, discreetly sold and morally controversial.

It was only with the invention of vulcanized rubber in 1839 that condoms started to resemble what we know today. Later, latex versions in the 20th century cemented their role in public health, transforming condoms from whispered curiosities into essential tools for safer sex.

This 19th century condom now serves as the centerpiece of a new exhibition titled Safe Sex?, exploring 19th-century sexuality, sex work, and the long, messy history of contraception. Alongside it hang prints and photographs that flicker between prudishness and eroticism—cultural artifacts from an age still wrestling with the same anxieties we know today.

Despite its cheeky message, the object comes from a serious time. In 1830s Europe, syphilis raged, abortion was illegal, and unplanned pregnancies ruined lives. Condoms, while not especially reliable, offered some sliver of control. No one wants to use a sheep’s intestine as a condom, but it’s better than the alternative.

Yet the Catholic Church and much of “proper” society condemned them. In brothels and barbershops, they were traded discreetly under the counter. This condom was also likely a brothel souvenir.

Is This Condom a Work of Art?

Rijksmuseum curator Joyce Zelen told the BBC she spotted the condom at an auction. No one else noticed it so Zelen was happy to get it for the museum. After obtaining it, they inspected it with UV light and established that it had not been used. The condom is in mint condition. “As far as we can tell we are the only art museum with a printed condom,” said Ms Zelen.

The museum said the unusual item “embodies both the lighter and darker sides of sexual health, in an era when the quest for sensual pleasure was fraught with fears of unwanted pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases — especially syphilis.”

“In the 1830s, when this condom was made, the use of condoms was still frowned upon, especially by the church,” said Zelen. “They were mostly sold under the counter at brothels or barber shops, though there are some reports of luxury shops offering bespoke tailoring.”

But would you see it in the same building as a Rembrandt?

So far, the museum says, the public is loving the exhibit. Since the show opened, crowds of all ages have packed the gallery. Sure, it challenges traditional museum boundaries, but it’s not just a curiosity. It merges intimate history with public exhibition, inviting visitors to reflect not just on what we preserve, but why. The image is pixelated in some listings, but in person, it’s impossible to ignore, and it forces people to face the long, often hidden history of sexual practice.

That this condom survives at all is remarkable. That it now occupies space in one of Europe’s most respected museums is a quiet, winking triumph for our often-ignored sexual history.