Arriving in Denmark: On Changing and Being Changed 24. November 2025
Today I read a Facebook post that made me thoughtful — and yes, even a bit provoked. A young German woman worked hard and poured her heart into running a stand at a Danish Christmas market, only to experience rejection. That hurts, no question about it. Nobody should feel ignored or diminished, especially not in a setting that's supposed to be about coziness and community.
And yet, as I was reading, a thought came to me — one I also commented on:
If you come to Denmark to change Denmark, you're in the wrong place. If you come here ready to change yourself, then you're in the right place.
That sounds harsh, but it's not meant unkindly.
Denmark is culturally different. More reserved, more traditional, more cautious with the new. People here need time before they open up — whether in personal contact or in things like clothing and design. Bright and loud is often perceived as "foreign," not automatically as exciting or inspiring.
I was recently in Flensburg, taking a stroll through the city, and discovered a clothing store that exploded with color. I rushed in, thrilled by colorful knit hats, skirts, coats — everything blazing bright. The saleswoman proudly explained to me that this was "typical Scandinavian fashion," designed by a family from Sylt with Danish roots. I had to laugh — not meanly, but in surprise.
Because the image many Germans have of Scandinavia is often more colorful than the reality here in Denmark actually is. In my region up north, most people wear dark colors, especially in winter. Even in summer, I sometimes feel like a peacock in my colorful dresses.
And yet: I buy such things. I love them. I like wearing them.
But I try not to sell them to anyone.
Not out of fear, but because I've learned that fashion and tradition are closely intertwined here. Danes sometimes admire something new, even say: "That looks nice." But that's far from meaning they'll buy it or adopt it. It simply doesn't fit their culture.
What many underestimate is the role of language. If you speak to someone in Danish and then immediately ask whether you couldn't rather speak another language, it comes across quickly as backing down. Not arrogant, but insecure. And insecurity is often met with distance in Denmark. Many people here have a need for you to at least try to really speak their language. When they then offer to switch themselves, that's different. Then it feels right for both sides.
So I believe: It's not about someone sewing in bright colors or coming from another country. It's about how you present yourself.
Whoever comes here expecting to be accepted immediately, just as they are, will be disappointed. Arriving in Denmark means first listening, observing, learning, and understanding how people here tick. Not to give up yourself, but to arrive on equal footing. And only then does space open up for what is uniquely yours to find its place.
But it's equally important for me to say: I'm sorry, but this kind of subtle or open prejudice against foreigners exists unfortunately everywhere when there are "too many." No matter which nationality. And you can't start blaming the Ukrainians for it. Many Danes now simply think there are too many Germans.
Behind this often lies not hostility, but fear. Fear of change, of losing their own traditions, of the feeling that one day they might become strangers in their own country.
And as an immigrant, you unfortunately can't expect every local to like all immigrants. Human coexistence rarely works that way. Also, even though I've often heard that many Germans don't see themselves as migrants, they are anyway. All of us who moved here are migrants. Period.
That doesn't mean rejection is right. But it means it's part of the reality you have to deal with when you move to another country.
Maybe the decisive question isn't: "Why do I feel foreign here?" or "Why don't they like me?"
But rather: "Am I ready to really commit — even when it gets uncomfortable?"
Denmark isn't a country for quick arrivals. It often doesn't make things easy for you. But whoever perseveres, who takes the time and finds a place here not by demanding it, but by discovering it, eventually realizes: the reserve was just a test. Behind it lies a depth and warmth that superficial friendliness could never have.
