At home with difference
Nicol Foulkes
Copenhagen
Some say that the middle child suffers from identity issues and with finding their place in the order of things – their sense of belonging. Another more positive way of looking at it could be that the middle child is curious as he or she is always looking four ways – their own way; down at the younger siblings’ view; up at the older siblings’ view; and then at everyone else’s view. No doubt there are many other ways of looking at it. I am of course a middle child. I am also a child of parents who emigrated from the Caribbean to England in their teenage years. Rather, my father was sent by his mother and made the adventurous boat journey alone from Jamaica when he was fourteen years of age. My mum’s mother emigrated from Jamaica alone at first and then went back to fetch my mum and her two brothers. They also made the trip to England by boat, stopping at many different countries along the way. My parent’s mothers wanted them to have better opportunities, a better life, and luckily for them being part of the Commonwealth meant that they could move to England with no official problems during the 1960s. In fact, there are unofficial records of black people living in England since the 12th century. It wasn’t until after World War II, when their labour was needed to help rebuild Britain that larger communities started to develop.
My parents met in London, married and moved from the capital city, where there was a very large black community, to a town called Southend-on-Sea in the county of Essex in 1973 when I was one year old. We were one of the first families with Afro-Caribbean origins to move to Southend, which is about a one-hour drive from London. My parents were young, good looking, sociable and in work so we were very well received. I am glad they moved out of London. Growing up in England during the 70s and 80s with a different skin colour was an issue. But if you are one of the ‘few’ as we were in Southend rather than one of the ‘many’ then racism doesn’t tend to surface as harshly. Southend, being far less racially charged than London, gave my brother, sister and me the space to explore, develop and enjoy other elements of our identity that had nothing to do with skin colour. Thankfully my parents raised us to be proud of who we are, considerate of others and stand up for ourselves, and what we believe in, so we had a good start in life. All three of us were successful in school and went on to university, but we are wildly different siblings. One other thing we have in common is that we all have ethnically, religiously and culturally diverse group of friends.
Different places
My globetrotting started when I was eighteen. After finishing my A-Levels I decided that I would spend 6 months in Germany before starting university. With very little money and a thirty-kilo suitcase I arrived in Cologne to start a six-month ‘praktik’ at the human resource department of Ford Motor Company, Niehl. It was a fantastic experience on so many levels: first time living away from home; first time making ‘foreign’ friends (German and Turkish); first full-time job; first journey of discovery alone abroad. I loved it, and maybe love it even more in hindsight. After finishing my BSc. in German and European Studies at the University of Surrey, I moved to Berlin where I lived and worked and had a lot of fun for almost two years. The next stop was Cape Town, just for one month and then Copenhagen, where I continued to enjoy life, work and went to school for 16 hours a week to learn Danish. After one year I was still restless and so embarked upon a one-year world tour, just me and my backpack, which took me to Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, Venezuela and South East Asia. After that trip I tried my hand at London, but found it far too overwhelming and returned to my comfort zone in Copenhagen after just 5 months. I have some serenity here that I have not experienced anywhere else – maybe it is Copenhagen; maybe it is my age.
When I got back, I set myself the goal of staying put for at least three years, and I achieved it - I am still here. My time has been spent working with the English language (teaching, language checking and travel writing), working with children (teaching and social work) and furthering my education. I completed my Masters in European Social Policy Analysis at Roskilde University in 2004 and was fortunate during that time to spend 5 months at Turku University, which was my first encounter with Finland. I must say Turku suited me very well. As well as having an extremely rich academic experience, I met some wonderful people and enjoyed the beautiful nature in and around Turku. I kept contact, both on a professional and personal level, with my Finnish colleagues and three years after finishing the Masters I was presented with an opportunity to apply for a PhD studentship through LabourNet (the Finnish Graduate School on Labour and Welfare Studies) at the University of Tampere and was successful in the application.
The topic for my PhD thesis has been inspired by a combination of experiences from my working, and academic life, and my personal interest in difference. When teaching English at a language school in Copenhagen popular with the corporate world, I encountered several families who were preparing to move abroad as a result of the husband’s job. I usually taught the wives and/or the children for a few months before their departure and became quite curious as to what the motivations were for the families to make the decision to move from the safety and security of Denmark to places like India, China and Vietnam. Why were women prepared to put their careers on hold often at that critical stage in the work life cycle in order to become a housewife? This seemed like a decidedly un-Danish thing to do. From the social policy perspective, I was curious as to how the family’s social rights were affected by the move, and to what extent that differed from country to country. From a migration perspective, I wondered how they ‘managed’ their temporary status in the destination country. And from an identity perspective, I wondered how this experience of spending time in a developing country might change their outlook on life. These were the foundations for my PhD research, which is currently being funded by the Academy of Finland under the Future of Work and Well Being 2008-2011 program. We global Europeans are multiplying and most definitely warrant some investigation … and I would rather do the investigating than be investigated!
Different questions
The question Where are you from? is not a simple one for people like me to answer: born in England, a different skin colour, living in Denmark and studying in Finland. I no longer have an instinctive response, but rather a process of thoughts: my immediate thought is What difference do they want to know about? In mathematics the concept of difference is clear: the difference between eleven and seventeen is six. If only difference among human beings were so easily understood and, more importantly, accepted. In coming up with my answer there are three further steps in my thought process: First of all I consider the country we are located in when the question is asked. Then I make an evaluation and conclusion (be it right or wrong) as to whether the person is asking where I was born, where I grew up, where I live, or what my ethnic origins are. Finally I respond with an answer to one of the aforementioned, often qualified by an answer to one or two of the others. This must sound like a drawn out process, but I have been doing it for many years now so it is pretty much second nature to me.
If the question is being asked by someone who is English, they are usually asking about where I grew up; then my response is born in London, grew up in Essex (and live in Copenhagen). This is usually followed up with banter about Essex girls (in the rest of Europe, the jokes are often about blonde girls) and my ‘hometown’ Southend-on-Sea. Brits are usually quite direct if they want to know about my cultural heritage or skin colour and simply ask where my parents are from. Finns, when they ask where I am from, are usually asking what country I have come from, i.e. where I live, so I respond with live in Copenhagen and am from England. I love the Finns for their need-to-know basis for conversation. I have good friends who have never asked me where my parents are from. When I lived in Germany, the experience was similar to that of Finland: my heritage was not a common topic of conversation. Danes are a little tricky: most want to know about my skin colour, but many want to know what part of England (or even the US) I am from. So, in Denmark I usually respond with from Essex in England and then I wait for them to ask about my skin colour if that is their interest. At some point early on in the ensuing discussion I usually also have to mention that I have not lived in England full-time for about 12 years as many people start referring to TV programs and other decidedly British stuff. When I was in Australia I responded with from Essex in England and was often confronted with “No, where are you really from?” which made me laugh at first and then horrified me when I would reply that my parents are Jamaican and the proceeding conversation would be about reggae music, Bob Marley and the sun, sea and sand of the Caribbean, which I have only visited twice for a total of 4 weeks. What is even more horrifying is that I have similar conversations with highly educated and well-travelled people in Denmark as well. This conversation was more of a surprise to me in Denmark because I couldn’t understand how people could be so uninformed in Western Europe, a relatively small area of land with a multitude of diverse cultures, languages and histories where the vast majority of people have good access to education, media and travel. I cannot say so much about my Finnish experiences because I do not speak Finnish and am only ever in academic environments when I am there. But, I can say that I have never had that conversation.
Different perspectives
Having lived here in Copenhagen now for almost a decade, I realize that many Danes have such an enormous sense of pride and strong affiliation to their national identity that it may be difficult to comprehend that not everyone is as patriotic or nationalistic, and that we don’t actually need to be. Here, it is almost expected that I express the same feelings of affiliation to a place, be it Jamaica or England (but not Denmark) no matter how long I have lived here for, which leads us to another common question: “So, do you think you are going to stay here?” Imagine being asked that question every single time you meet a new person – that is the reality of being foreign in Copenhagen.
It is possible that a Dane will tell you that my reasonings are a load of rubbish, but I shall now share some of my theories, based solely on my experiences. First and foremost Danes, until recently, have been born into an extremely homogenous society. The geographical area is small and quite uniform with a lot of flat countryside and a lot of agriculture, small forests, long coastline and few city regions. The main distinction between people here is from or not from the Copenhagen area. The other Nordic countries are more diverse with approximately the same size population spread over a vaster area with different landscapes and diverse industries, resulting in more diverse lifestyles and even different languages. To my mind, it must be natural for difference to be of interest if one has grown up with such homogeneity. Problems arise however when difference becomes the overriding, dominant discourse and is used as a basis for judgement. Sadly, this is often the case in Denmark. In the Danish media when an incident occurs involving someone with an ethnic background that is not 100% Danish, they are commonly referred to as having a ‘foreign’ appearance (a Danish synonym for different colour skin). The use of the word ‘incident’ is intentional - when it is an ‘event’ that difference is barely given a mention.
As has been well advertised in recent years, Danes are some of ‘the happiest people in the world’. I nickname the World Happiness Survey the Nothing to Complain About Survey, as if you have ever lived in Denmark you would know that on a day-to-day basis, Danes are not considered to be the happiest bunch by foreigners who live here. They do on the other hand have the capacity when speaking to foreigners and journalists to be proud of, and fully appreciate, the fact that they are fortunate to have more opportunities open to them than most people in the world and live in a relatively safe, secure, well-functioning environment. Life as a foreigner is a different story: the windows of opportunity are few compared to many other European countries, but the attraction is that the lower level of that window is very high. High basic incomes, good welfare and social provisions, good access to education, more sense of equality between the sexes and a moderate climate altogether make for an attractive place to stay, in spite of the racial insensitivity and tension.
Two major events happened in 2001, which marked a turning point in Denmark’s history: the attacks in the US on 11 September, and the parliamentary elections on 20 November. The right-wing Danish People’s Party received more votes than ever and became a part of the coalition government lead by the centre-right Venstre. This was the first time since 1924 that the Social Democrats had not won the most seats. The advent of 9/11 meant an increased focus on Muslim communities around the world and Denmark was no exception. Since 2001, Denmark’s reputation for being tolerant, open and laid back has taken a 180-degree turn and the country has become infamous for its xenophobic tendencies. Having lived here now for almost 10 years I feel content using the term xenophobia rather than racism, yet have understanding for those who learn about Denmark from the media and interpret the naïve, somewhat self-righteous rhetoric as that of racism.
A good example of this is the frequent use of the term ‘second generation immigrant’ – a term that I had never heard used so liberally, or ever been referred to as before I arrived in Denmark. I strongly dislike the phrase and aside from that, lexically it makes no sense whatsoever: how can one be an immigrant if one is born in the country? And, calling anybody ‘second’ anything is not a positive start. Unfortunately, categorizing or departmentalizing people seems to be a growing trend in Europe, and individuals are seemingly keen to distinguish themselves from others, rather than seek out their common traits.
Different identities
During a recent trip to India, I took an unexpected journey into my own identity. I attended a course in methodology at an institute in Bangalore that was organised by a Nordic institution. We were a small group of six women: two from Swedish universities (both Swedes) and four from Finnish universities (three Finns and one Brit living in Denmark).
There was one incident in particular that made me realize just how offensive I found it when someone refuses to acknowledge part of my identity. When participating in an international event, in my humble opinion, conversations and exchanging ideas and information are so much more transparent if there is some recognition, acceptance and understanding for and of people’s backgrounds. As foreigners to India, our hosts and fellow students were keen to get a clear picture of where we all came from. We had a visit from a representative from the Nordic institution who was keen to give the impression that we were all from Sweden and Finland, so much so that on one occasion when writing notes about us on the board for the lecturer’s information, she left the space next to me blank rather than writing that I was British. It seemed that for her it was important to promote our ‘Nordicness’. It would have been easy to write ‘British (Finland/Denmark), but it was even easier to leave the space blank, and I spent the rest of the lecture feeling agitated and angry. It is difficult to describe the thoughts that went through my head, as I knew that this representative was merely confused as to what to write, yet on the other hand I thought to myself that maybe they should specify next time that they only want Swedish students from Swedish universities, Finns from Finnish universities and so on. Maybe they will make that restriction in the future, to the detriment of international students like me.
Within the group, I must confess to missing having a ‘fellow’ Dane (not a Brit). It was a strange situation because all the other participants had to speak English as a second language for most of the day, so understandably they wanted to speak their native language some of the time when chit-chatting. Then I was on an island – I would also have like to be able to switch languages on occasion, and there was sometimes a sense of exclusion, although I do not believe that that was intentional on their part … most of the time!
What I didn’t mention before is that my mother’s father was Indian. All I know is that his surname was Singh, which means that it is highly likely that he came from Punjab. My reasons for wanting to explore India have been purely academic and social – never to seek out my roots. If I am honest, I was not too fond of my grandfather, my mother had never been to or ever spoken about India, and so I had no relation to the place except for my bloodline … or so I thought. It turns out that this trip filled in a few gaps I had about my mother’s and my own identity.
There is a side to my mother’s character that has always been a mystery to us all - my brother, sister, father and to some extent my mother herself too. She was very beautiful, very kind, very good with children, and very sensitive. I hear you thinking ‘I know people like that’, but as I said, there was something else about her way of being that I cannot describe with words. I encountered so many women in India with that je ne sais quoi, and on one occasion it reduced me to tears. It was not something that I expected to be confronted with, and neither was I willing or able to share with strangers, so I cried to myself and for my mum who left this world without experiencing, or even having the inclination to experience India.
Another revelation was about my physical appearance. I am a giant compared to most Indian women, but my skin colour, facial features, hair, flat hands and feet are more to do with my Indian mix than I realised. I remember prior to my visit to Jamaica a few years ago being very curious to find out how it would feel to lots of people around who have similar features to me. I was sorely disappointed when I arrived to find that I looked almost equally foreign there as I do in Denmark! Ha ha! In India on the other hand, in spite of my bigger build and Western style of dressing, I felt an affinity to the women and some familiarity with the men. In many ways the Indian conservatism, manners and sometimes confusing politeness are somewhat similar to the UK so the culture was not as foreign as I was expecting it to be.
Being different
All said and done, I absolutely love being a foreigner. I always have been one and I always will be wherever I live or travel. I was fortunate to be a middle child and that my parents gave me the start in life that allowed me to explore people and places with a calm, inner confidence about who I am and what I represent. It may simply be for that reason that I have not ever regarded difference as negative or something to be afraid of. Being a foreigner in Scandinavia is not much different from being a foreigner anywhere else in these times; the challenges simply change depending on the location. Being a woman here on the other hand is something special and totally unique to Scandinavia.
Read more about Nicol’s doctoral research at www.globaleuropeans.com.