Table of Contents
In Nuuk, Greenland, a powerful narrative unfolds as local voices recount the pain of a traumatic past under Danish rule. Amarok Peterson, a 27-year-old native, bears the scars of a dark chapter in Greenland’s history—marked by involuntary sterilizations performed by Danish medical professionals. At just 13 years old, Peterson was one of many Greenlandic girls subjected to this horrifying practice, with a birth control device implanted without consent, forever altering her future.
“The Danes don’t see us as humans,” Peterson expressed, her voice trembling with emotion as she recalled her experiences in an Inuit restaurant overlooking the breathtaking fjords of Nuuk. “They consider us a drain on resources, dismissing our existence while claiming our land, our children, and our lives as their own.” This sentiment resonates deeply among many Greenlanders, who have felt the weight of colonial rule for far too long.
Historical context of forced sterilization
Despite an official apology from the Danish government last year regarding the forced sterilization of Indigenous women, the scars of these practices remain. The forced contraception of Greenlandic women has cast a long shadow over the island’s history, complicated further by Denmark’s military exercises on the territory, which many locals view as a continuous threat rather than protection.
Peterson’s story is not isolated; it reflects the broader pain experienced by many Greenlanders. The Little Danes experiment, which spanned from the 1950s to the 1970s, involved Greenlandic children being taken from their families and sent to Denmark for adoption or institutionalization. These policies aimed at cultural assimilation disrupted families and erased essential aspects of Indigenous identity.
Impact on families and communities
Peterson shared that her own family suffered under these oppressive policies, including her uncle, who was taken away as part of the assimilation efforts. “They wanted us smaller, easier to manage,” she lamented. This historical trauma continues to reverberate throughout Greenland, with many families still grappling with the consequences of these actions.
In December, Denmark announced a compensation package for the victims of forced sterilization, offering around $46,000 to each affected woman. However, Peterson characterized this as an insult, saying, “They think we are worth pennies. They destroyed generations, and now they say, ‘Here — be quiet.’” This sentiment captures the frustration many Greenlanders feel towards a system that has long marginalized their voices.
Current political landscape
As the geopolitical landscape shifts, Greenland’s status has come into focus, especially with renewed interest from the United States. President Trump’s previous statements about purchasing the island have intensified discussions around sovereignty. Yet, many Greenlanders are wary of exchanging one form of colonialism for another, yearning instead for true independence.
“People say ‘Greenland is for Greenlanders,’ but the reality is different,” Peterson stated. “Denmark still decides for us, and we are not given the platform to voice our own opinions.” This power imbalance was highlighted during a recent press conference in Washington, where Danish Foreign Minister Lars Rasmussen dominated the conversation, sidelining the Greenlandic foreign minister.
Economic implications of colonial rule
For many, the struggle for autonomy extends beyond political boundaries into economic realities. Residents like Karen Hammeken Jensen live in outdated government housing, often plagued by issues such as black mold. “These buildings were never modernized; they were built for Inuit and then forgotten,” she remarked. Living conditions remain poor, with high costs of living and low wages creating a cycle of economic hardship.
Greenland’s primary industry, fishing, reflects this imbalance as well. Elias Lunge, a seasoned fisherman, highlighted the disparity between what local fishermen earn and the profits made by corporations. “We fish the cod, but the value is captured elsewhere,” he explained. Despite the rich resources of Greenland, the profits often fail to benefit the local economy.
The human toll of colonialism
“The Danes don’t see us as humans,” Peterson expressed, her voice trembling with emotion as she recalled her experiences in an Inuit restaurant overlooking the breathtaking fjords of Nuuk. “They consider us a drain on resources, dismissing our existence while claiming our land, our children, and our lives as their own.” This sentiment resonates deeply among many Greenlanders, who have felt the weight of colonial rule for far too long.0
“The Danes don’t see us as humans,” Peterson expressed, her voice trembling with emotion as she recalled her experiences in an Inuit restaurant overlooking the breathtaking fjords of Nuuk. “They consider us a drain on resources, dismissing our existence while claiming our land, our children, and our lives as their own.” This sentiment resonates deeply among many Greenlanders, who have felt the weight of colonial rule for far too long.1
“The Danes don’t see us as humans,” Peterson expressed, her voice trembling with emotion as she recalled her experiences in an Inuit restaurant overlooking the breathtaking fjords of Nuuk. “They consider us a drain on resources, dismissing our existence while claiming our land, our children, and our lives as their own.” This sentiment resonates deeply among many Greenlanders, who have felt the weight of colonial rule for far too long.2