For just five euros, some women on Berlin’s Kurfürstenstraße were reportedly accepting sexual encounters while struggling with severe drug addiction. Their desperation unfolded beneath expensive apartments in one of the German capital’s most troubled neighborhoods.
By 2026, this part of Berlin had become a startling collision of wealth and poverty. Luxury residences stood beside homelessness, open drug consumption, prostitution, and the increasingly difficult struggle to protect vulnerable people.
The neighborhood, known locally as the Kurfürstenkiez, lies near the boundary between Schöneberg and Tiergarten. Its central location places it relatively close to major landmarks, fashionable developments, and some of Berlin’s most desirable addresses.
Yet the streets present a starkly different reality from the polished property advertisements promoting nearby apartments. Residents regularly encounter drug users, sex workers, dealers, and people experiencing homelessness immediately outside their buildings.
For more than two decades, Gerhard Schönborn has worked with vulnerable women in the neighborhood. He leads Neustart, a Christian organization operating a support café intended to offer practical assistance and human connection.
Schönborn has witnessed the district change considerably. Although prostitution has existed in the area for generations, he describes a worsening combination of dangerous drugs, severe addiction, unpredictable behavior, and increasingly desperate living conditions.
The café offers something many women cannot find elsewhere: a place to rest, speak with someone, and receive assistance. For people living amid exploitation and instability, even basic kindness can become extraordinarily important.
Schönborn regards the facility as something resembling a living room for women who spend much of their lives on the street. Staff members listen to their difficulties and attempt to identify opportunities for support.
The organization’s ultimate ambition is to help women leave street prostitution and escape addiction. Schönborn acknowledges, however, that achieving these goals is extremely difficult, particularly when women face profound financial and psychological pressures.
Over the years, he has known numerous women who subsequently died. Some consumed substances without understanding their composition, exposing themselves to dangerous consequences while attempting to survive the demands of their daily circumstances.
The effects of long-term drug use are visible throughout the neighborhood. During the investigation, Schönborn noticed a woman with serious wounds on her legs, injuries he associated with repeated injections.
The woman had approached the café, but it was not yet open. Schönborn believed she would return to the familiar cycle of earning money through prostitution, buying drugs, and consuming them.
He remembered seeing the same woman suffering during withdrawal. She had been crying in desperation, unable to tolerate the physical and psychological distress caused by her dependence on addictive substances.
Such encounters reveal the human suffering behind the district’s reputation. The women are not simply figures in a debate about public disorder; many are individuals facing addiction, poverty, illness, and exploitation.
Schönborn also described the extraordinary age range of women working on the street. Decades earlier, minors had reportedly been present, while older women, including some in their seventies or eighties, could still be encountered.
Their circumstances often reflect prolonged vulnerability. Some struggle with serious health problems or personal hygiene, yet remain exposed to customers, street violence, and the relentless pressure to earn enough money to survive.
Near Frobenstraße, the concentration of sex workers, customers, and suspected dealers becomes particularly visible. Street activity takes place beside newer cafés and residential buildings, creating daily tensions between different groups occupying the same space.
One resident agreed to describe his experiences but requested anonymity before publication. He feared that publicly criticizing criminal activity near his home could expose him and his family to retaliation.
His building was relatively new, and he had initially believed redevelopment would gradually transform the neighborhood. Instead, he found that the conditions outside remained distressing despite the area’s increasingly expensive housing.
Inside the building, residents had discovered evidence of activities spilling over from the street. Condoms and drug paraphernalia appeared in shared areas, including spaces intended for bicycles and other belongings.
Working from home made the situation especially difficult for the resident. Through open windows, he could hear customers negotiating prices and arguments unfolding beneath apartments marketed as desirable urban homes.
His greatest concern involved his daughter. She had noticed unfamiliar people gathering beneath their windows, while drug consumption near children’s play areas made ordinary family routines feel increasingly unsettling.
The neighborhood includes schools, daycare facilities, playgrounds, and numerous families with young children. Parents described monitoring their surroundings carefully and avoiding routes where they feared encountering dangerous objects or confrontations.
For the anonymous resident, even allowing children to visit nearby shops independently seemed difficult. Although he could see some outdoor areas from his apartment, the journey through surrounding streets remained a concern.
Another family faced a similar dilemma. Hendrik and Arne Felke had moved into a spacious rented apartment on Kurfürstenstraße approximately ten years earlier, attracted by the location, layout, and affordable rental price.
At first, they accepted the area’s longstanding street prostitution as part of urban life. Without children, they found it relatively easy to overlook disturbances and concentrate on their own daily routines.
Becoming parents transformed that perspective. The couple began noticing drug consumption, shouting, and potentially dangerous situations that previously seemed easier to ignore. Their concerns increasingly centered on their children’s safety and well-being.
Their experience reflected a broader conflict between the neighborhood’s established street scene and families who wanted to raise children there. Both groups occupied the same streets, but their daily needs frequently collided.
Schönborn explained that the drugs consumed by people in the district had also changed. Heroin remained present, but fentanyl, crack cocaine, and crystal meth had become important concerns for outreach workers.
He believed these substances were contributing to more rapid physical deterioration and unpredictable behavior. Unlike opioid dependence, certain stimulant addictions cannot be addressed through the same established medication substitution approaches.
Even Neustart’s workers had experienced threatening situations. Schönborn described occasions when distressed visitors threw objects, spat at employees, or acted aggressively, creating risks for staff attempting to provide assistance.
The organization responded by replacing breakable dishes with lighter melamine alternatives. It was a modest practical measure, but one that illustrated how an ordinary support café had adapted to increasingly difficult conditions.
Despite those dangers, Schönborn emphasized that his workers continued helping women because they understood their struggle to survive. Providing support sometimes meant accepting discomfort and uncertainty rather than abandoning people in crisis.
Another important refuge exists nearby at the Twelve Apostles Church. The church has served the neighborhood for generations, welcoming people seeking shelter, companionship, spiritual guidance, or simply a peaceful place to rest.
Volunteer Oliver Dahms described the church’s longstanding relationship with the surrounding red-light district. Sex workers and people experiencing homelessness had traditionally found moments of safety inside its doors.
But he also described increasing challenges involving visitors under the influence of drugs. Some appeared disoriented or behaved unpredictably, leaving volunteers uncertain about how to respond without risking their own safety.
Dahms recalled a disturbing encounter with a young man whose behavior became erratic inside the church. The volunteer was shocked by the situation and struggled to manage it while keeping others safe.
The changing atmosphere affected even the church’s pastor, Burkhard Bornemann. He was widely known in the neighborhood for his pastoral work and willingness to engage with people experiencing hardship.
According to a volunteer, Bornemann had once been struck by a man on Kurfürstenstraße without warning. The incident illustrated how violence could reach even individuals dedicated to supporting vulnerable members of the community.
The church had previously operated a dedicated support service for sex workers in its basement. That program eventually ended because conditions had become too difficult for volunteers to manage safely.
Bornemann struggled with the emotional consequences of these changes. He wanted to remain approachable, yet increasingly unpredictable encounters made ordinary gestures of friendliness feel potentially risky.
For someone whose work depended on personal connection, that transformation was especially painful. The pastor described the sadness of feeling compelled to avoid interactions rather than freely offering assistance to strangers.
Meanwhile, the streets continued attracting women facing severe financial hardship. Outreach workers reported that many came from Hungary, Romania, and Bulgaria, including impoverished communities where employment opportunities could be limited.
Some, according to the documentary, had been brought to Germany through misleading promises. Their circumstances raised concerns about exploitation, particularly when poverty, language barriers, and dependence on other people restricted their choices.
Residents described frequent arguments, visible intoxication, and occasional fights. Several said they avoided certain streets at night, believing the neighborhood had become increasingly difficult and unpleasant to navigate.
Parents pushing strollers also described taking precautions. They worried about broken glass, discarded drug equipment, unpredictable confrontations, and people whose behavior suggested serious intoxication.
One family discovered that the problems were not confined to public streets. Their underground parking garage sometimes attracted people seeking temporary shelter or secluded spaces, despite being part of a private residential development.
Access to these garages could be difficult to control because vehicle entrances remained open briefly after residents entered or exited. Such openings created opportunities for unauthorized visitors to enter the buildings.
In another area, a daycare playground had received an additional fence. The measure was intended to prevent discarded needles and other potentially hazardous objects from reaching spaces used by children.
These visible precautions reflected the anxieties experienced by residents. Instead of treating surrounding streets as ordinary parts of family life, parents increasingly regarded certain locations as places requiring constant vigilance.
The neighborhood also experienced fires and suspected criminal activity. At one point, the documentary showed a vehicle that had reportedly been burned, adding to the sense of deterioration described by residents.
The cost of living in the district nevertheless remained extraordinary. Schönborn pointed toward newly developed apartments, including properties reportedly valued at approximately 1.4 million euros for around 100 square meters.
That economic contrast was difficult to overlook. People occupying expensive apartments lived only a short distance from women who sometimes struggled to obtain enough money for basic necessities or another dose of drugs.
Residents also complained about thefts involving shared storage spaces, mailboxes, bicycles, and vehicles. Some believed their buildings had become convenient targets for people exploiting weaknesses in residential security.
One resident, Oliver Ottens, described confronting suspected thieves with a neighbor after hearing unusual noises from an underground garage. They discovered individuals apparently attempting to remove wheels from an expensive Audi.
Ottens and his neighbor approached while recording the situation, hoping to capture identifying evidence. The confrontation quickly became dangerous when one suspect appeared to be carrying pepper spray.
The residents retreated as the suspects escaped in another vehicle. Police arrived shortly afterward, finding tools and other evidence that the suspected thieves had reportedly left behind.
Although the confrontation could have ended badly, Ottens expressed frustration with recurring thefts. His experience illustrated why some residents felt increasingly compelled to defend their property themselves.
For the women working on the street, however, the problems were fundamentally different. Their immediate concerns frequently involved obtaining food, avoiding violence, managing addiction, and finding enough income to survive.
During the documentary, two women agreed to speak inside a room used for prostitution. They described the unpleasant and dangerous circumstances of their work, including encounters with customers whose behavior or hygiene caused distress.
The women also discussed exploitation by pimps. According to their accounts, some men collected payments from sex workers each day while spending their earnings on expensive belongings and personal luxuries.
One woman described the painful reality of working because she lacked money for food and ordinary living expenses. The circumstances she described were marked by desperation rather than financial freedom.
The documentary identified one interviewee as a 52-year-old Czech woman who could not read or write. Her limited employment opportunities had contributed to her dependence on prostitution as a means of survival.
Both women were using crystal meth. They explained that drug consumption had become intertwined with their ability to continue working, leaving them trapped in circumstances that were increasingly difficult to escape.
Their testimony exposed a vicious cycle. Addiction created an urgent need for money, while the emotional and physical demands of prostitution reinforced their dependence on substances used to endure the work.
Another important figure in the district was nurse Angelika Müller, who worked with Frauentreff Olga, a women’s support organization serving people involved in street prostitution and drug use.
Müller had spent approximately three decades assisting women in the area. She regularly traveled through the neighborhood distributing condoms, clean syringes, and other supplies intended to reduce health risks.
Her work focused on preventing infections and offering practical assistance without judgment. For women unable or unwilling to leave the streets immediately, these interventions could still provide vital protection.
At Olga, women could also receive medical attention and access a comparatively safe environment. The organization provided a place where workers could establish relationships with individuals who might otherwise avoid formal institutions.
Müller described the appalling economic conditions faced by some heavily addicted women. When suffering from withdrawal, they could reportedly accept as little as five euros for a sexual encounter.
That amount illustrated the extreme power imbalance between desperate women and the people willing to exploit their circumstances. The nurse emphasized the immense pressure underlying decisions made in such vulnerable conditions.
Some women openly acknowledged the damage caused by years of substance use. One visitor described repeated injections and expressed appreciation for the assistance she received from the Olga organization.
For people experiencing prolonged addiction, continuing relationships with outreach workers can be particularly valuable. Familiar staff may provide medical information, basic supplies, and a sense that someone still recognizes their humanity.
Yet not everyone living nearby welcomed the facility. One resident argued that Olga attracted drug-related activity and prostitution into areas already struggling with public disorder.
He believed the presence of the center contributed to problems around nearby residential buildings. From his perspective, the community required stronger restrictions and more effective protection for families.
Müller and her colleagues offered a different interpretation. They argued that removing support services would not eliminate addiction or exploitation, but could leave vulnerable women facing even greater dangers.
Their disagreement revealed a central question confronting the neighborhood. Should authorities prioritize removing visible street prostitution, or should they strengthen services addressing the underlying poverty, addiction, and exploitation?
For one family, the decision became painfully personal. Hendrik and Arne Felke had maintained strong connections to the local church, where they had celebrated important milestones in their lives together.
Their young daughter was baptized at the Twelve Apostles Church, surrounded by family and friends. The occasion reflected their continuing affection for the community despite the troubling circumstances outside.
The couple had also married at the church, making their connection deeply emotional. Yet after considering their children’s future, they concluded that remaining on Kurfürstenstraße was no longer their preferred choice.
After a lengthy search, they found a house in Spandau, on Berlin’s outskirts. The move promised a different environment where they hoped their children could experience greater independence and security.
Leaving brought conflicting emotions. They valued their apartment, relationships, and memories, but believed that protecting their family required acknowledging the difficulties they encountered in the neighborhood.
Their departure illustrated how the local crisis affected not only vulnerable street populations but also longstanding residents. Some families continued building lives there, while others decided that the pressures had become excessive.
Then another major development threatened the district’s support network. Neustart learned that its lease on Kurfürstenstraße would not be renewed, forcing the organization to leave its established café.
The news was difficult for Schönborn, who understood how much women depended on familiar surroundings and trusted workers. Losing the location meant disrupting an important point of contact within the street scene.
Neustart eventually found alternative premises in Schöneberg. The organization planned to continue offering assistance, with greater emphasis on women who remained able to engage in counseling and other support services.
Schönborn acknowledged that conditions had become exceptionally difficult for volunteers. Relocating offered an opportunity to reorganize operations, although he remained concerned about the women still living on Kurfürstenstraße.
Despite leaving the café, Neustart intended to continue street outreach. The organization did not want to abandon the neighborhood entirely, even as maintaining meaningful contact with its most vulnerable women became harder.
The situation at Olga was even more precarious. Its lease had also been terminated, and unlike Neustart, the organization had not secured another suitable location when the documentary was filmed.
The same landlord was involved in both lease decisions. According to the report, worsening conditions around Kurfürstenstraße had contributed to the unwillingness to continue accommodating the support organizations.
For Müller, the possible loss of Olga represented a devastating threat. The organization had provided assistance for almost four decades, helping women who often lacked reliable access to medical and social services.
She feared that removing the facility would leave some individuals without essential care. Women struggling with addiction, homelessness, and serious health problems could face even greater dangers without its outreach workers.
Müller was particularly worried about people who might die if medical assistance and practical support disappeared. Her concerns extended beyond sex workers to residents who would also experience the consequences of deteriorating conditions.
Meanwhile, some neighbors continued demanding stronger restrictions. One anonymous resident advocated a designated prohibition zone that would ban street prostitution in the immediate area.
He characterized the local prostitution scene as exploitation of women facing desperate circumstances. From his perspective, preventing street transactions would be a necessary response to conditions he considered fundamentally abusive.
Olga’s outreach workers disagreed with the proposed solution. They warned that prohibiting prostitution in one location could merely push vulnerable women elsewhere without addressing the underlying causes of their exploitation.
Their competing arguments revealed how difficult the situation had become. Residents wanted safer streets, while outreach workers feared that aggressive displacement would make the most vulnerable women harder to reach.
The documentary’s final filming day provided another disturbing illustration of neighborhood disorder. Emergency services responded after a man under the influence of drugs set garbage containers on fire.
According to the report, the man attempted to push a burning container toward a supermarket. Employees intervened and prevented the situation from escalating further, while smoke once again spread through the street.
The incident reinforced the concerns of residents already frightened by drug consumption, theft, and violence. Yet it also demonstrated the extent of the untreated substance dependence and social instability surrounding the district.
For Schönborn and other helpers, these visible emergencies represented symptoms of deeper problems. They believed political leaders needed to confront the circumstances rather than merely respond to individual disturbances.
The documentary ended with serious uncertainty about the future of Kurfürstenstraße. Families were relocating, outreach organizations were losing their premises, and vulnerable women remained exposed to addiction, poverty, and exploitation.
No single solution emerged from the conflicting perspectives. Residents demanded safety, women needed protection and practical alternatives, and support workers struggled to maintain services under increasingly difficult circumstances.
The neighborhood’s extraordinary contrasts remained impossible to ignore. Expensive apartments stood beside desperate poverty, while people living only meters apart experienced radically different realities and competing fears about the future.
For women trapped in cycles of dependency, displacement could mean losing contact with the few people offering consistent assistance. For parents, continued disorder could mean sacrificing their sense of security.
The challenge facing Berlin was therefore larger than street prostitution alone. It involved addiction treatment, housing, public safety, exploitation, social assistance, and the responsibility of government institutions to address overlapping problems.
As the report concluded, Kurfürstenstraße remained a neighborhood under intense strain. Its future depended on whether authorities could protect residents while preserving meaningful assistance for those most at risk of being forgotten.
