Foreigners taking Greenlanders’ jobs

I was at a cafemik this week – coffee and cake at a friend’s house, to celebrate a birthday. There were a lot of people and my husband and I sat down with a group, some of whom we knew, some we didn’t. I got chatting to a woman I hadn’t met before. She asked me about my background, what my work was. And I told her.

“Oh, foreigners coming in and taking Greenlanders’ jobs!” she said.

Did she really just say that? I thought. But the conversation had moved on, leaving me open mouthed. I glanced at her husband, sitting next to her, a Danish man holding their young daughter, and I wondered why he didn’t fit into the category of foreigners who were apparently unwelcome. Seeing me looking at him, he asked,

“How long are you staying?”

I frowned slightly at the train of thought that was developing here, that we were foreigners who had just flown in, perhaps for a year or two of fun and then we would leave again, taking advantage of the Greenlandic system and jobs along the way.

“I don’t know,” I replied, because I don’t.

“When did you arrive?” he continued, annoyingly.

“Five years ago,” I replied.

“Oh!” he said, eyebrows raised, suddenly surprised that his assumptions didn’t fit.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

“Three years,” he said, slightly off guard now.

Nationalism is usually fairly exclusionary behaviour. We belong here. You don’t. And there is plenty of nationalism, of various flavours and degrees of vehemency in Greenland. But when you live in a country with only fifty-six thousand inhabitants, being too exclusionary can quickly make one rather isolated. Legally, if one is born in Greenland but not to Greenlandic parents, one is not Greenlandic. But unfortunately there are people who draw even sharper lines around what it is to be Greenlandic, to belong. For some, it means speaking Greenlandic, which is rather harsh given that there are many Greenlanders, including those born here, who don’t have a strong grasp of their national language.

I don’t ever expect to be regarded as a Greenlander and that doesn’t bother me. Even my son, who has spent half his young life here, will never be regarded as Greenlandic. That’s ok. But what I do want is for people to approach others – including me – with an open mind, regardless of what language they speak or where they were born. I didn’t take a job from a Greenlander. When I applied there were no Greenlandic applicants, as is often the case for specialist positions. But, as in other professions, we are slowly employing and building the ranks of qualified Greenlanders. I work for government. I am a public servant. And I regard myself as such. And while we may not always get things right, our intention – my intention – is unwavering to serve the Greenlandic public.

Fortunately, there are also those in Greenland who see this, and who see the opportunity of using people like me to improve things for Greenlanders. Last year, I was at an international trade show, promoting foreign investment in Greenland. The week was packed with speeches, meetings, networking, presentations. On the final evening, our Greenlandic delegation met for a wrap-up dinner, together with a group of Greenlandic politicians also attending the trade show. As I hung my jacket in the restaurant cloak room, one of the politicians asked me where I was from, what was my background, how did I come to be living in Greenland. After our brief chat, he gave me a broad smile and said,

“Thank you for coming to Greenland. We appreciate it.”

And I appreciate being here.