Not your average Dane

A truly global life, a refreshingly grounded perspective.

Photographs: Sidsel Hollingsworth

Text: Ophelia Wu

Spending time with Sidsel Hollingsworth is genuinely refreshing. On a sunny afternoon, we found ourselves on a rooftop in Copenhagen, enjoying a drink and some bites. Time slipped away faster than either of us expected, not because we were watching the clock, but because we were deep in conversation without pause or pretence. It wasn’t a surface polite conversation at all.

From Gen Z’s disposable income to her fascinating upbringing, we moved effortlessly through topics such as Danish schools, parenting styles, and the local dating scene. It wasn’t just easy because we had things in common. What stood out was the depth of her perspective. Sidsel isn’t just well-travelled or globally curious, her worldview is lived-in, textured and generous. It lands deeper.

Not your average Dane

At first glance, Sidsel Hollingsworth might appear the picture of a typical Dane: tall, blonde, fluent in Danish and living in Copenhagen. But her life has been anything but conventional. While her older sister was born in Tokyo, Sidsel was born in Kobe, Japan, and raised across continents. Only recently has she spent more years in Denmark than abroad. Even then, the idea of truly being "home" still feels uncertain.

"I look Danish, I sound Danish," she says. "But I don't always feel it."

Her early life reflected her parents’ curiosity about the world. The family moved between Japan, Denmark and Australia. She spent her early childhood in Japan, her primary school years in Adelaide, then returned to Yokohama. As a teenager, she chose to return to Denmark for boarding school, longing for the Denmark she remembered from her summers. Life in Yokohama, even at an international school, felt limiting and restrictive. She had outgrown it. By her early teens, she had lived in several cities and countries. Returning to the place that was supposed to feel familiar brought new challenges.

The struggle is real

Sidsel had heard that Danish schools were relaxed, and homework was rare. At one point, she considered a boarding school in Scotland, partly because a friend was going. But her parents, who remained in Japan, gave her the choice of returning to Japan, going to Australia or moving to Denmark. She chose Denmark and enrolled at Herlufsholm Boarding School.

Having grown up with uniforms and structure, a formal school environment didn’t intimidate her. "The first year, I struggled so much. I spoke fluent Danish, but not academic Danish," she explains. "Maths, oral exams, reading comprehension. The phrasing was all so different from what I knew." The language barrier made even familiar subjects feel distant.

She later moved into the International Baccalaureate (IB) programme, which felt like a lifeline. "I just needed it to be in English," she says. She joined the school’s first IB cohort, alongside other Danes who had grown up abroad. With her mother having taught in the IB system, Sidsel and her classmates sometimes guided their teachers. "We were almost showing them how to get through the programme."

Her educational journey remained non-linear. While many peers followed a straight path from gymnasium to university to career, Sidsel took a more instinctive approach. She studied multimedia design at KEA and, despite initially resisting, later enrolled at CBS. "I hated the idea of CBS at the time," she says. Still, she completed a bachelor’s in Business and Communication, which she saw as a more creative version of CBS. Yet Danish academic life remained a challenge. "It was always in both English and Danish, and that made it hard. I’m just not an academic," she says. "And in Denmark, if you don't have a master's degree, it can feel like you'll never get anywhere." In true Sidsel manner, she created her own “master’s degree” combining her years in those programmes.

"I look Danish, I sound Danish, she says. But I don't always feel it."

Finding her place here and abroad

Like many Danes, Sidsel spent her gap year working as a piccolina. Through her network, she landed her first job in advertising, where she finally felt she could breathe. She worked on international accounts with colleagues from across Europe. "Every morning felt like I was stepping out of Denmark and into a more global space," she says. "Most of my colleagues weren't Danish, and that's when I felt most at ease." That comfort in multicultural spaces became a pattern. Although Danish by birth, she feels more aligned with those who live or think beyond borders.

It was in advertising that she met her partner, who is half English and half German. He had grown up in England and Germany, studied in Scotland and dated a Dane before. He loved Copenhagen but, as a foreigner, wasn’t entangled in its cultural codes. Like Sidsel, he was open to exploring life elsewhere. They spent months backpacking through Asia, connecting with people and places. Eventually, they settled in Australia.

While her partner found work quickly through global contacts, Sidsel felt burnt out after years in advertising. She had taken her yoga mat on their travels and began practising regularly in Australia. What began as self-care evolved into something more. "I think I needed to get my soul back," she laughs. Yoga offered grounding, structure and a way to connect outside corporate life. Over time, it became a creative outlet. "Teaching yoga is problem-solving. You work with people, design experiences, and hold space for them. It's creative work in its own right," she says. For Sidsel, it felt like coming home in a different way.

Parenting between cultures and languages

Sidsel became a mother in Australia. Her daughter, born there, is proudly Australian-Danish and still eats Vegemite by the spoon. Although she left Australia at two and a half, she still feels a strong connection. "She doesn't remember much from those early years, but she's heard about it and talks about Australia all the time," says Sidsel. "She feels that connection, and that makes her different. She also has a lot of ideas - she can't be more of an extrovert."

Her son, born later in Denmark, has had a very different childhood. "He's more of a typical Danish child," she explains. "Same house, same childcare, same group of friends, a very homebody." The contrast doesn’t worry her. "Each child finds their own way. Our job is just to give them the tools."

The multilingual couple possess English, Danish, German, Spanish, French and Japanese language skills, but chose English as the family language. At home, language use shifted depending on location. In Australia, Danish was spoken at home, while English was spoken outside. In Denmark, the situation was reversed. The result is a flexible, sometimes chaotic, mix. "We're not consistent anymore," she says. "It's a full jumble sometimes, but it works."

When they first returned to Denmark, her toddler would translate herself when misunderstood, assuming it was a language issue. At the playground, she bonded more quickly with English-speaking children than Danish ones. Today, the children mostly speak Danish to each other, but English slips in, often with an American accent.

When it comes to nature versus nurture, Sidsel believes living abroad has taught her valuable skills. Discipline, structure, and openness to conversation are part of her parenting approach. She teaches her children about working to earn what they want, including toys, and involves them in tasks beyond traditional chores, which are seen as a shared family responsibility.

Navigating relationships with other parents and teachers is a newer challenge she’s still figuring out. Even her parenting style is hard to define. She still cannot decide whether it’s her experience living abroad or her open-mindedness and flexible personality that has shaped her approach.

The fluidity of identity

Sidsel returned to Denmark partly to give her children a sense of stability. "I don't have a childhood home. No address I can point to and say, 'this is where I come from.' I wanted something different for my kids." The family support system in Denmark also made sense.

But reintegration wasn’t easy. Professionally, she felt stuck. Personally, she felt the weight of yet another relocation. The pandemic hit, she had two small children, moved again and went through a divorce.

Even earlier, her and her sister’s return to Denmark had felt different from that of their peers. "We were both in the system, but not really in it." Her sister struggled more, having spent her formative years abroad. "In the 90s, Danes who returned from overseas were often met with suspicion. 'Don't think you're special,' they would say," she recalls. Sidsel, at least, had spent her high school years in Denmark, albeit at a boarding school, which is unusual for most Danes. Still, she managed to build some strong friendships there.

She’s always been good at making friends, but growing up abroad meant she often overcompensated for her lack of familiarity. "It's that survival mode of being the new kid. Trying to break into the system as fast as possible. Everything that a Dane isn't." Is it that coping mechanism that kicked in, or her bubbly character? She isn’t sure, could be both.

Navigating a changing Denmark

"Copenhagen feels more international now, it’s probably a generation thing. There are more yoga studios, more foreigners, more openness. The restaurant scene has changed. You can walk into a café and no one speaks Danish." CBS has also evolved. "Back then, there were 300 American students. Now it's closer to 3,000." Sidsel has seen positive shifts that help her feel more at home, without shrinking herself to fit in. Still, challenges remain. While attitudes have improved, some habits remain. In recruitment, she sees exclusion persist. "I hear stories of people being screened out just because of their names. It fascinates me. How can you know what someone's capable of just from that?" She embraces diversity in mindset, not just ethnicity. "Just because your name isn't Danish like Hensen or Jensen, but let's see what they have to offer." She acknowledges that it’s not only about names, but also about cultural codes, such as coffee chats, jokes, and lunch culture. Fit still matters.

Now single, Sidsel is intentional about who she dates. "If I date a Dane, it has to be someone with an international mindset," she says. "There's a big difference between Danes who have travelled, those who haven't and those who have lived abroad. A weekend in New York doesn't make you worldly." She notices this difference in her friendships as well. Some are more traditionally Danish, others more international. "You can hear it in conversations. Who's open, who's more insular? It's not about right or wrong, just different lenses."

Sidsel’s life is shaped by adaptability, creativity and global awareness. She has lived, worked and parented across cultures, not to assimilate, but to integrate. She brings her whole self forward and embraces the richness of difference. "I'm Danish," she says, "but not in the way people expect." In a country still learning to hold space for difference, Sidsel’s voice is both a mirror and a bridge. She reminds us that identity isn’t fixed. Being Danish today can mean something broader, richer and more inclusive.