Being Foreign in a Country That Doesn't Know How to Deal With Foreigners

The Danish relationship with Everything Not Danish can at times be strained, to say the least. We all blame the weirdo right-wingers for saying absurd and maybe even racist things, but somehow seem to miss that it's not just the weirdo politicians. It's all of us, and a lot (too much) of the time. The latest thing around Aarhus appears to be that Eastern Europeans aren't let into nightclubs, solely on the basis of being Lithuanian, Bulgarian or whatever. Some of the people affected are furious, while others pull the ”it's private property so who cares and I'll just go somewhere else” argument, (even though there are some convincing arguments that it might be illegal. I don't know the giurispudence, but I'm fairly sure this particular way of discriminating guests won't hold in court.) But this is just the latest example of often tiny things that make people feel not welcome. How does it feel to be foreign in a country that does not know how to deal with foreigners and would rather have them go away so as not to think about them?

Vagina Dentata

Over at the local art museum, Aros, there's a particular piece of art that continues to intrigue me. Consumer's Guide to Safe Sex by Thomas Bruun (1988) is actually just a box. It has on its front a picture of the female intimate parts, cut out from, presumably, a porn magazine. It carries instructions on how to use the paper and a round hole cut where the vulva would be, with some very graphic language at that. Also, in my opinion, rather objectifying, but I'll get back to that. The hole in the paper fits a hole in the entire box, thus constructing a sex machine into which you may insert your penis (be you in the possession of a such). So to speak. For if curiosity overwhelms you and you look into the hole meant for the penis, you see – a mouse trap. If you use the machine: Snap. Ouchy. The machine bites back. A Vagina Dentata.

Når i Danmark de dig tiltale

Sidste sommer skrev jeg et længere indlæg om, hvordan jeg oplevede street harassment i Spanien. Kort opsummeret for ikke spansk-læsende brokkede jeg mig langt væk over ikke at kunne læse en bog på stranden i fred, uden at den ene og den anden mandsperson spurgte til mit helbred, min alder, min civilstatus eller kommenterede andre menneskers bryststørrelse. Jeg erklærede også en intention om for fremtiden at give svar på tiltale, og fortælle d'herrer, hvad jeg mener om deres opførsel (også de damer når nødvendigt). Et halvt års tid og et nyt land senere finder jeg øjeblikket inde at vende tilbage til emnet og undersøge, om jeg har fulgt mit eget fortsæt, og om konteksten gør en forskel, for både kommentarer og reaktioner.

Language as exclusionary practice

The language you speak defines who will understand you. So you speak the language you think serves better to make yourself understood in any given context. Seems like a no-brainer, right? But sometimes you probably also choose a language in order to not be understood, by whoever is the excluded one in the group. It's the dynamics of this that I would like to dig into today.

Global Citizen

About a month ago this picture popped up in my facebook newsfeed. It was posted by Occupy Wall St and reposted by a friend, and it went viral, as these things do. It is, as you can probably see, a draft for a passport for a global citizen, a citizen of the world rather than of any particular state or nation. Now, I do understand what they're trying to say, and I appreciate the effort, but the picture left me thinking. What is actually being said? And what would be the implications? Is it even possible to speak of global citizenship?

If you see a stranger on a bus...

Just another silent onlooker

Already upon entering the bus, they catch my attention. It's Saturday night, Halloween celebration day, and people are out partying. I left my party early and am taking the first night bus, it's barely 1 am. They're bent over her bag, obviously drunk, and she screams to him about finding 'it'. (Turns out she's referring to his bus-ticket.) I enter the bus, pick my seat and start looking for my mp3-player and my half-eaten snack.

They finally enter the bus, he loudly thanks the driver and informs that he's the nicest guy they met today. They discuss about which seats to pick, and she sits down and yells at him to come and sit next to her.

He addresses some other bus passengers, first in Danish, but switches to English when he realises they're foreigners. Begins complaining about her, how she talks to him. How would random bus guy react if his girlfriend gave him orders? (Bus guy would do as told.) And if she said so and so? (Still the same.) And so on, making more and more detailed questions. Someone behind me says, “you're not getting any sympathy, cut it out.” He ignores this.

Finally he sits next to her, wishing the other couple and me a good night. Shortly afterwards a friend of the foreign couple enters the bus, and they discuss exams and other everyday events. Within minutes he's back. Is he interrupting? No no.. he isn't. And he begins talking, mostly offending* her, and once in a while she offends him, too, asking him to come and sit down. She asks for cigarettes, he offends her, informs her she can't smoke inside the bus. She asks for them again, he gives in, throw them at her, saying, “you can have your fucking cigarettes.” Goes on discussing with the foreigners, exchanging life stories, trying to convince the friend to start thai boxing. The foreign couple are aware that I'm following the scene, but say nothing.

Passierschein A 38 – una formalita' burocratica

Prima di tutto – ciao! Benvenuti al mio primo post in italiano. Vi prego di avere pazienza con la mia grammatica sicuramente non sempre del tutto perfetta, mentre affronto la sfida di esprimermi anche in questa lingua.

Comunque. Oggi vi vorrei parlare della burocrazia. Sapete, quella cosa dove si deve andare da un ufficio all'altro, poi all'altro e all'altro, per avere tutti tipi di documenti compilati e firmati e poi portati in un altro posto, e ci si mette tutto il giorno, e spesso non e' mai completamente chiaro quale sarebbe lo scopo di tutto questo.

Per cominciare vorrei condividere con voi questa perla che ho recentemente riscoperto su youtube: “Asterix e le 12 fatiche”, una delle quali e' una “formalita' burocratica”, cioe' avere il lasciapassare A 38.

Vi prego di guardare la clip (il video e' in inglese, siccome nella versione italiana avevano tagliato questa prova nel mezzo. Ma siete cosmopoliti, ce la farete! ;)) e poi seguirmi in un'esplorazione della burocrazia e, cosa piu' interessante, di come la gente reagisce ad essa. Come ne parliamo, e come reagiamo alle sfide burocratiche? E' questo un rispecchio di come reagiamo alla societa' in altri contesti?

Cerchero' di fare un confronto tra la Danimarca (quel paese delle meraviglie) e l'Italia, famigerata per la sua burocrazia. Portero' anche esempi di altri posti, nei casi dove questi si mostrassero interessanti.

Carta de una danesa a sus conciudadanos

El 19 de Marzo hubo huelga general en España, organizada por los sindicatos españoles más grandes y unas cuantas otras organizaciones más pequeñas. El motivo era una reforma laboral que hará aún más fácil para los empresarios despedir a la gente sin compensación, y hará el mercado laboral aún más inseguro para la juventud española, que ya está viviendo con un desempleo de entre el 40 y 50%.

Lo que sigue a continuación es una reflexión sobre qué ha hecho salir cientos de miles de personas a las calles de Barcelona, sobre porqué esto ni se podría imaginar en Dinamarca, sobre el papel de los sindicatos en la sociedad y sobre qué significado tienen ahora y cual deberían tener en el futuro.

De danske fagforeninger set fra Spanien

Den 29. marts var der generalstrejke i Spanien, arrangeret af de største spanske fagforeninger samt en lang række mindre organisationer. Anledningen var en arbejdsmarkedsreform som vil gøre det (endnu) nemmere for arbejdsgiverne at fyre folk uden at rekompensere dem, og gøre arbejdsmarkedet (endnu mere) usikkert for spanske unge, som i forvejen lider under en arbejdsløshedsprocent på mellem 40-50%.

Nedenstående er en refleksion over, hvad der fik flere hundredetusinde mennesker på gaden alene i Barcelona, over hvorfor dette ikke er til at forestille sig i Danmark, over fagforeningernes rolle i samfundet, og over, hvilken betydning de har og bør have fremover.