The Year of Living Danishly (15 page)

The Danish branch of The Everyday Sexism Project launched in 2013 and has been recording the daily contributions from women in Denmark keen to share their experiences of sexism online – from inappropriate behaviour to gender-stereotyping and sexist ads. I ask Sanne whether there's been the same amount of trolling and abusive tweets directed at women who speak out about inequality as there has been in the UK, to which she laughs.

‘Twitter is much smaller in Denmark so there aren't so many psychopaths on there yet – only clever, tech-savvy, media types. Which is nice. Normally when I get insulted on Twitter over here it's more patronising than threatening, though I don't know which I'd prefer…'

‘Sorry?'

‘Everyone can
see
that a rape threat is over the line and you can press charges – you can't do anything about someone patronising you in 140 characters.'

Good point.

I get in touch with Sara Ferreira from Everyday Sexism Denmark to ask her what the response has been so far.

‘Our members describe it as a relief,' says Sara, ‘to acknowledge that sexism is still a powerful force even in a country like Denmark, where the level of gender-equality from the outside seems enviable. We're not blind – we know that women elsewhere are much worse off than here. But still, women have only been able to vote in Denmark for the past hundred years. Not long ago, we were second-rate citizens. We have to stay alert and be aware not to fall into old patterns. It's a big problem when young women – and men – don't have the historical perspective and mistakenly think that they're “free” to do what they want, without seeing the structural and cultural forces that are still at work.'

One of the key structural problems coming to the fore is gender segregation by stealth. In spite of my not-at-all scientific survey of boys and girls in Denmark, it turns out that schoolkids are getting different careers guidance depending on their sex. At the moment, more boys get pushed towards engineering (79 per cent of Denmark's engineers are currently male according to the Danish Society of Engineers) with girls being encouraged towards the humanities.

I talk to Manu, the equality and church minister I quizzed about religion, and ask for his take on this. He's surprisingly candid, accepting that it's a problem and telling me that it's something he plans to address.

‘My daughter had a careers talk at her school,' Manu says, ‘and afterwards I asked if she'd talked about engineering as an option as I thought it might be something she'd enjoy. She said she hadn't – and that she didn't even know what it was! Schools careers counsellors really need to educate girls and boys about what options they have – as do we as parents – to break out of gender stereotypes.'

The appointment of a woman to the top job in Danish politics has helped with this, Manu tells me. Helle Thorning-Schmidt came to power in 2011, overcoming her detractors and some pretty scathing press. The newspaper
Politiken
wrote that she was, ‘too well-dressed for the Social Democrats, too fresh to become the head of the country and too cool to win people's hearts' – a criticism you can't quite imagine being levelled at a male politician. She was swiftly awarded the nickname ‘Gucci Helle' for her love of designer clothes and has also been attacked by her own party for her good looks. Helle maintained a dignified silence for some time before taking down one particularly odious heckler at a ministerial meeting with the line: ‘We can't all look like shit.' I love the Danish PM.

‘It's been important, having Helle as a role model,' says Manu. ‘Just like me being the first brown minister [Manu's parents are from India] will hopefully help other migrants to see that a career in politics in Denmark is a possibility for them, having Helle in the top job gives young girls someone to look up to. We could always tell girls that they could rise to the top in politics, but until they could see it happening, it didn't always seem real. To know as a Danish girl that you can get to the very top is a strong message.'

This strikes a chord with me. Growing up the only child of a single mother with Queen Elizabeth II on the throne and Margaret Thatcher as prime minister, I took it for granted that women ruled the world. I remember expressing disbelief when I read about a male prime minister in a library book, aged ten, so sure was I that this was a uniquely female role, not even open to men. Growing up in a female-centric bubble of delusion was a distinct advantage – it never occurred to me that I couldn't do absolutely anything. Now, with Helle running the country and Queen Margrethe on the throne, thousands of little Danish girls will be experiencing the same sense that everything is open to them. I feel a thrill just thinking about this.

‘It's almost taken for granted that men and women are equal here,' says Manu, applying a slick of lip balm and looking every inch the modern metrosexual. ‘It's part of our DNA. Being a woman in Denmark means good opportunities and not having to choose between a family and a career.' Which is reassuring. But the ‘taken for granted' part might be starting to cause a few problems, because the system's not working for everyone.

A study published by the EU agency for Fundamental Rights in 2014 found that Denmark was top of the list when it came to violence against women with 52 per cent of Danish women surveyed saying they'd been victims of physical or sexual violence – well above the EU average of (a still horrific) 33 per cent.

‘The numbers in the report are shocking,' accepts Manu when I bring this up, but he's keen to point out the fact that Denmark's Scandinavian neighbours, also praised for their gender equality, scored highly as well. In Finland, 47 per cent of women said that they'd been victims of violence and the figure was 46 per cent in Sweden. By contrast, women in Poland reported the lowest levels at 19 per cent, with the UK at 44 per cent. ‘This could indicate some structural and cultural explanations,' says Manu. ‘Danish women are very active on the labour market. This is positive but unfortunately it can also make women more vulnerable. The silence surrounding violence against women in Denmark is also much less than it used to be. Violence is no longer a private matter. Danish women will no longer keep quiet, which might be different in countries where violence is still hidden and shameful.'

Despite Manu's assertion that speaking out about domestic violence is no longer taboo in Denmark, there was a conspicuous silence in the Danish press when the report came out. The only person to go on record and comment publically was Karin Helweg-Larsen of Denmark's National Observatory on Violence Against Women. She was quoted in most of the country's major media describing the report as inaccurate, saying that it was unhelpful to compare liberated Danish women to those from Croatia, Bulgaria or Southern Europe, where, she suggested, violence may be normalised.

I call Karin and ask her to expand on this and she explains: ‘It's unusual to compare trans-national data on violence as definitions alter from country to country. Violence against women isn't tolerated
at all
here, and since the 2000s there have been anti-violence campaigns to make sure domestic violence isn't thought of as a private problem anymore. We've worked hard to change people's minds and perceptions so that everyone understands that violence is something that won't be tolerated under any circumstances. And the campaigns have worked – criminal statistics show that violence is going down.' The Danish government's own figures show that 26,000 women aged between sixteen and 74 years old report having been exposed to violence from a former or current partner – a decline from 42,000 when the figures were last recorded in 2000.

But does such a vehement denial of the EU report's findings really help women in Denmark? Might this not allow Danes to rest on their laurels and think, smugly, ‘
oh, it's OK, there's not really a domestic violence problem here'
?

‘No,' Karin insists, ‘it was important for me to dispute these figures because if we accept them, then it's too easy for the rest of Europe, like Croatia for instance, to say, “well, there's no point in even having a national action plan for gender equality or to reduce domestic violence because it's not working in Denmark or Scandinavia”
.'
It's unlikely Karin will be holidaying in Croatia any time soon, but she may have a point.

‘It's dangerous to use this EU data for politics,' Karin goes on, ‘to, say, reduce funding for shelters for battered women. Instead, we need to take responsibility and be advocates for improvement.'

This is something that all the women I speak to in Denmark agree on. But there's another theory as to why Danes reported such high levels of violence. As Sanne puts it: ‘There is a lot of violence
in general
in Denmark.'

This comes as a surprise, having never witnessed any sort of aggression since I moved here. But this, Sanne explains, is because I'm not a Danish youth tearing up the town of a Saturday night.

‘Men get punched in the face on a night out,' Sanne tells me. ‘There are fights – and if you try to stop a fight, you get hit too. We just punch each other more. And we drink a lot. Because there's this idea that we're all equal, maybe some men think, “
oh well, it's probably not so bad to hit a woman
”. There isn't this idea that women are the weaker sex in Denmark. We hit everyone. I got in fights growing up in Jutland – females too would just hit each other.'

I ask The Viking whether his experience of growing up in Jutland also involved using his fists a fair bit and he answers in the affirmative: ‘There were always fights. There was usually alcohol involved, but yeah, there's hitting.' So where does this impulse comes from?

‘No one's quite sure,' Sanne tells me. ‘It's been against the law to smack kids here for twenty years, but we do have quite a violent culture,' she admits. ‘We are
Vikings
. I'd be really interested to see if they did a study looking at whether we Danes are just more violent in general. Otherwise, I think it's difficult to compare violence towards women in Denmark with other countries. Violence towards women is horrible, but violence towards men is too. So if violence towards men is also worse in Denmark compared to other countries, then we need to work on the macho Viking culture.'

There aren't any studies looking specifically into whether Scandinavians are more violent than the rest of Europe (yet), but the Danish government's own figures suggest that violence against men isn't uncommon. The most recent report shows that 8,000 men between the ages of 16 and 74 have been victims of physical violence, a number that's increased by 25 per cent since 2005.

‘No matter what, violence is a gender problem,' says Sanne, ‘because the root is the macho culture. The aggression is rooted in a very specific idea of manliness. And when this idea is combined with the overall sexist idea that what men do is
right
, sadly some women are going to copy that behaviour.'

This glimpse of the darker side of life in Denmark has made me feel a little lost. Instead of living in ‘Denmark: the country of equality, perfect pastries, an enviable work-life balance and a generous welfare state', I've found myself living in ‘Denmark: just as troubled as everywhere else in the world and possibly peopled by above-average aggressive types'.

I've been around the block enough to know that even paradise has its flaws – but this seems like a fairly big one and I don't know quite how to get over it. It's like finding out that a lovely great aunt is a massive racist – the nice bits of them can never make up for the offensively crappy parts.

I ask Sara how she handles it and she points to the great strides that Everyday Sexism has taken: ‘A sense of community and empowerment makes you feel stronger and less alone. Structural and cultural inequality is still very much an issue in Denmark – it just may not be as obvious as in other countries. But fortunately, as we have experienced, there are lots of women and men of all ages who want to challenge this.'

Sanne too is optimistic about the future of women here: ‘It's like we may finally be getting a long-overdue new wave of feminism here. Denmark just needs to get its balls back – or rather, its ovaries – and make some changes to stay ahead in terms of gender equality.' She's noticing more and more men at her stand-up shows who identify themselves as pro-woman. ‘I'm also meeting a lot of feminist guys at shows in Copenhagen and Aarhus, and Odense and Herning when I perform.' So is Sanne a happy Dane, despite all the gender-equality work that still needs to be done? ‘I'd say I'm an eight out of ten,' she tells me. And Sara? ‘I'm probably eight, too,' she tells me. OK then.

I can't forgive the racist great aunt, or forget what I've learned this month. But if Sara and Sanne can stay positive, then I suppose I can too. I sign up to Denmark's Everyday Sexism Project and resolve to do what I can to help, writing about as many injustices as I come across and telling any Danes I hear being rude about women drivers to desist. Immediately.

‘Are you OK?' Lego Man asks, carefully, once I'm back home. He rubs at the stubble on his jaw the way he does when he's anxious, aware that this month has really got to me.

‘I think so,' I tell him.

‘Are we still on?'

‘Sorry?'

‘Are we still doing it, our year of living Danishly?'

I look at him, wide turquoise eyes looking up at me from underneath a crinkled forehead, wrinkles disturbed by a Harry Potter-esque scar between his eyebrows that he got from a scouting accident. (Other injuries sustained in service of Baden-Powell include a partially sawn-off finger, broken teeth and a dislocated shoulder. My poor in-laws lived in fear of the phone calls from A&E to say, ‘We've got your son here. Again.') Now, I reach out and stroke his arm in the direction of the white-blond hairs on it, the way one might a cat. And I tell him I'm not about to pull the plug on our adventure just yet.