When I moved to Denmark to pursue my PhD, I was surprised to discover that my passion for baking cakes clashed with local customs. In my home country, Argentina, I was accustomed to baking cakes for my friends and colleagues on their birthdays or simply as a sweet gesture.
I vividly recall the first time walking into the office with a simple cake for a colleague. My excitement quickly turned to confusion as I was met with surprised looks and puzzled smiles. It wasn’t long before someone kindly enlightened me about my cultural faux pas – in Denmark, it’s customary for the person being celebrated to provide the cake on their birthday! (Three years in the country and I still can’t wrap my head around it – sorry!)
While the culinary realm isn’t the focus here, it serves as a gateway to delve into some of the complexities of being a foreigner pursuing a PhD in Denmark.
Before going further, allow me to introduce myself properly. My name is Victoria Andelsman Alvarez, and I am an Argentinian PhD candidate at the Datafied Living project at the University of Copenhagen. My studies explore the impact of digital parenting on family dynamics, intimacy, routines, and more. Empirically, my dissertation draws from a longitudinal interview study involving parents of children aged 0 to 12 residing in Denmark, interviewed three times over the span of a year.
I began the PhD during the pandemic, facing heightened isolation due to limited social interactions in a new country. Few shared meals, no coffee breaks, and no Friday bars. The sense of being the odd one out was exacerbated by being one of the few internationals in the department. Moreover, Denmark’s distinct separation between professional and private spheres posed a significant challenge. While it may sound like an “expat” cliché to say, the transition from colleagues to friends here in Denmark demands patience and often never fully materializes. To this day, I find myself navigating this delicate balance, frequently miscalculating the appropriate distance, as illustrated above. Fortunately, my colleagues now mostly find it amusing or even endearing, and I’ve learned to use my cultural missteps to guide new international colleagues, preventing them from making the same blunders – or at least easing the sting when they inevitably do.
As a foreign PhD student, I often think of myself as “the stranger”, who straddles the line between distance and proximity to a group – socially distant yet physically close.
As a foreign PhD student, I often think of myself as “the stranger”, who straddles the line between distance and proximity to a group – socially distant yet physically close.
This mirrors my experiences in Denmark, where being an outsider has often meant striving to prove oneself in both academic and cultural settings, leading to internal struggles and guilt. The following excerpt from my field notes illustrates this sentiment so commonly felt among internationals. It recounts a moment where my desperation to find participants led me to agree to an interview in rural Jutland, only to realize the impracticality of traveling there amidst the pandemic. The night before the meeting, I panicked and asked the participant to conduct the interview online.
Nov. 10, 2021: Why did I agree to do something I didn’t feel comfortable doing in the first place? I’m trying my best to value my efforts, to be kinder to myself, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m slacking whenever I take a break. It’s a constant struggle – I feel like I’m being too indulgent with myself while simultaneously being too harsh.
The feeling of being an outsider, in a professional context, has been further accentuated by my social background and childfree status. Being unfamiliar with both Denmark and parenthood, however, has provided me with unique perspectives as a researcher. For example, my foreign background enabled me to critically analyse parenting platforms integrated into the Danish welfare state, revealing cultural nuances that locals might miss. My status as a foreigner empowered me to pose seemingly obvious questions and receive candid responses. As I was perceived as unfamiliar with their practices, parents were more forthcoming in explaining their daily routines and institutional settings in detail.
Regarding my childfree status – I learned that in Denmark, starting a family is a major consideration for people in my demographic, including, to my surprise, fellow PhD students. Therefore, my lack of children caused some discomfort during my fieldwork. As a female researcher in my thirties without children, conducting studies on parenting inevitably raised questions about my credibility as a researcher. Although uncomfortable, being subtly sidelined as an authoritative figure highlighted the societal expectations for women in Denmark to embrace motherhood early on in their professional lives. Moreover, I realized that motherhood holds significant importance as a fundamental aspect of identity, often prioritised over other life pursuits. This revelation surprised me, as I had initially perceived Danes as highly progressive, contrasting with this traditional expectation – an assumption I am still in the process of deconstructing. Had I not been an outsider, I might have overlooked or normalised these things.
As a female researcher in my thirties without children, conducting studies on parenting inevitably raised questions about my credibility as a researcher.
By sharing this narrative, I hope to provide solace and inspiration to fellow scholars encountering similar challenges. While being “the stranger” is hard, it also brings opportunities. My experience of not quite fitting in and embracing the nature of being a “stranger” has not only enriched my research, but also nurtured greater confidence and a willingness to embrace vulnerability.
It is also worth mentioning that things often do improve over time. In my case, the immersion in the social fabric of Danish families facilitated by my study’s longitudinal approach has helped counteract participants’ initial perception of me as unknowledgeable. They have witnessed my growth throughout the project, which has bolstered their confidence in my understanding. As for my personal and social life, I’m pleased to say that I now feel very supported. As I approach the end of my PhD journey, cultural challenges persist, but I’ve found support in a network of colleagues and friends who will happily eat my cakes.
Illustration: Adobe Stock