Before coming to Copenhagen, I had an idyllic image of Danish society: fantastic gastronomy, little income disparity, and genuinely happy people. Perhaps these characteristics are true, but certainly not for all Danes. Those living like I first described could be found on any given weekend in Copenhagen’s Meatpacking District, which for the most part is a posh cluster of high-end art galleries, superb restaurants, and unique creative businesses.
Last Wednesday, a group of my fellow students and I met with a woman who described the neighborhood that includes the Meatpacking District as having multiple parallels: on the one hand, you can be wined and dined on one side of a wall, while on the other side drug abusers are self-medicating with any and all drugs. The woman worked for Reden, a sort of shelter for Danish prostitutes who are addicted to drugs. According to the woman, about 30 to 40 sex workers visit Reden each day in between their meetings with clients whom they pick up on the street. Many of the women are addicted to cocaine, which they would like to take 15 to 20 hits of a day. Most will die in their 40s, some by overdose or other health issues and others at the hands of their clients. In fact, since this past summer, two sex workers who frequented Reden have been murdered. Their cases remain under investigation.
My visit to Reden was sobering. Even though I had known about drug abusers in Copenhagen, it was surprising to hear the stories of dozens of Danish women. My opinions about Danish society, in which everyone is happy, secure, and equal, were severely challenged. This got me thinking about why I think the way I do about the Danes, even this late into the semester. Perhaps it is because women like those who frequent Reden are not made visible. They work on the street corners close to the Meatpacking District, which is primarily known for its poshness. People often discuss its restaurants, clubs, galleries, and other luxuries. It’s easy to not mention the other parallel that exists in the neighborhood.
I certainly feel as though I crossed into several parallel universes while in the Meatpacking District that Wednesday. Following my visit to Reden, I visited Khora, a virtual reality production house that is just a three-minute walk from Reden. I was there on a class trip with about 20 other students, most of whom were probably unaware of Reden and their proximity to it. My fellow students and I had the privilege to immerse ourselves in various other realities; some of us found ourselves in a post-apocalyptic world, while others were in a deep-sea water cage watching sharks and other marine life. Some even were transported to an alien planet where they fought monsters. We were living like we thought the Danes lived: happy, equal, and secure enough to have such a unique and fun experience on a Wednesday afternoon.
I now know that many Danes do not live this way. While I’ve had an amazing time studying abroad in Denmark, I think it is problematic to say that the Danes are the happiest people in the world, a title granted to the Danes by the United Nations. This narrative is flattening; those who are unhappy, including the women who frequent Reden, are erased. I’m sure that this phenomenon extends beyond the Meatpacking District, but the stories of those who are unhappy remain untold. Instead, the Danes are labeled as the world’s happiest people, while those who are not enjoying themselves in Denmark are further stigmatized.
The Meatpacking District is truly made up of multiple parallels. On the one hand, you can find yourself in the stereotypical Danish world, full of great food, smiling people, and unique experiences, like the one I had in Khora. On the other hand, you can be confronted with some of the least happy people you may ever see. Both of these parallels deserve equal attention. They are both realities of Danish society, and they should be recognized as such.