April 22nd, 2026
I’ve been dreaming about Denmark.
Years ago, I took a DNA test and it confirmed a lot of what I knew: Norwegian (what up lefse), German (natürluch), a little Irish (obvs), and British. But it also revealed that I had strong Danish genes, which is delightful to me: LEGO and I share a bloodline (and I could be a possible heir).
For a class project, I’m doing research on Denmark. It’s a remarkable country. As we continue our slide into warmongering authoritarianism, a country consumed by the shadows it refuses to deal with like a toddler throwing tantrums instead of growing up, I can’t stop pining for Denmark.
They’re proud environmentalists; they’re a country of cyclists, and prioritize exercise and green living by design. 41% of their energy is cultivated by the wind. Danish people pay a lot in taxes, but most are happy to; education and health care are free and they have a high level of social security. Denmark is considered one of the least corrupt countries in the world. They appointed the world’s first woman prime minister, back in 1924; they were the first country to allow same-sex partnerships in the 80’s like it’s no big deal, because it’s not. They’re tech-fluent, but human-oriented. Work-life balance is essential to the Danes, as is the concept of trust. They call themselves a realm; that’s just cool.
Living in America at this moment in time means learning about Denmark feels like reading science fiction.
What I find so odd and jarring is that much of what we want for ourselves isn’t found in fairy tales or comic book pages; they are just realities for other citizens across the globe. Ask some smart people why we can’t have universal health care in America and they will use some impressively smart language to say absolutely nothing at all. I think that’s what I’m tired of: the apathy and resignation powered by self-perceived intelligence and supposed realism, a total lack of American imagination.
I think I dream of Denmark because the American dream is dead.
We said we were the greatest, that we fought for and believed more than any other country in progress and justice and equality and freedom. But we are, in reality, as the kids say: mid. We’re not even mid-mid. We’re lower-mid, at best. If the cost of health care doesn’t wipe us off the board, a government-sanctioned clown militia will.
Earth Day has me wishing for a Denmark visit even more. Fun fact: every single Minnesota Republican voted to let foreign entities desecrate our cherished Boundary Waters. That is a level of sick usually reserved for Captain Planet’s cartoon villains. It’s a secular kind of evil and inhumane.
I’m tired of feeling broken in a broken country. And I do know that moving won’t fix any problems; we still exist on this planet together, regardless of distance. But, at the root of my Denmark fever, I think I just want to live in a place that cares: about its environment, about its animals, about its people and our hearts and dreams. That was the whole point of Earth Day, anyway: a single reminder that we are a single being on one single planet.
The Den 