Early Wounds - The Drum That Wasn't Allowed
I remember it as far back as my memory allows - the sting of being told our culture didn’t exist. In school, when we brought Inuit drums into class, they didn’t spark pride. They sparked scolding. Teachers - some of them Greenlanders themselves - told us, “That doesn’t exist. Stop it.” Even the school inspector, the highest official at our school, insisted we couldn’t do that. He too was a Greenlander. And still, he denied it.
We used to wonder - why this shame around our roots?
Ridicule - When Being Seen Was a Crime
When one of Greenland’s first rock bands found recognition in Europe, they weren’t celebrated back home. They were ridiculed. As if showing pride in being Inuit meant betraying some invisible code of silence. Even now, I include traditional native drums - including Inuit drum dance - in my music. I’ve done so in track after track for decades. And still, in 2025, people ask, “What is that sound? I thought you were part of Denmark?” or “You’ve been Danes for hundreds of years. Why this now?”
This mindset strips us of our heritage. It denies us the right to reconnect, to remember. We’re expected to be silent - rootless, polite, “modern” Europeans behind four decorated walls, working 8 to 17, with no cultural memory allowed. That erasure is a wound - and it goes deep.
Theater - A Search That Turned Sour
As a musician and a theater lover, I always sought more. I tried to understand. But even when some of us wanted to explore Tuukkaq Theater in Denmark - supposedly a celebration of Inuit expression - we encountered yet another harsh truth: that behind the smiling faces were hidden stories. People covering for abuse. Denying the reality of a teacher who harmed more than he helped. No one wants to talk about it. But we remember.
This pattern - this selective memory - repeats itself in too many places. Some people who shout loudest about preserving Inuit culture are the same ones who belittled it, denied it, or worse - exploited it when convenient. That’s a truth we’ve lived with for generations.
Identity - I Am Still Inuit (Greenlandic Inuk)
And still today, some dare to say, “You’re not Inuit.”
But let me be clear: I speak the language. I know the songs. I carry the stories. I am Inuit - even after 40 years abroad. And I won’t apologize for it.
To those who say we should keep quiet about the past - that we should let go and “move on” - I say this: We’ve seen what lies behind forced smiles. We know what it means to be erased, to be tolerated but never embraced.
Loss and Hypocrisy - What Happened to Karl
And to those who only honor our artists when they’re no longer around to speak - like my late friend Karl Sivertsen - we see you too. After he passed away outside Nyborg, suddenly his music was good enough for radio. Not because they finally understood him - but because they wanted to be seen “doing the right thing.” It wasn’t about art. It was about attention, money, and shallow respect.
We Are Not Going Away
Greenland, we must do better. Stop denying your own culture. Stop sidelining those who hold onto it. And stop using death as a PR moment to fix what you ignored in life.
I don’t need your validation. I never did. But I won’t be quiet - not now, not ever. I’m still here. And I’m still Inuk (Inuit).