As a dual-degree B.S. in psychology and B.A. in strategic communications major at the University of Minnesota, I’ve always liked to be busy. To have an ever-revolving set of activities and resumé contributions. In high school, this energy had a purpose: college admissions. Everything I did, no matter how much joy and pride it brought me, also came with the secondary intention of making myself look more impressive—to colleges, to my peers, to large dinner parties of my parents’ colleagues. In my first year of college, I lacked both purpose and opportunity. I had nothing to prove and no means to try anyway. In this stagnancy, I lost part of myself, the part that had felt so much joy in these activities—a rooted sense of identity and interest within them.
After my first year of college, an overall fruitful but embarrassingly difficult time, I transferred schools and embraced the risks of starting over. I began to join friends in their activities, letting go of seeming impressive and accepting the reality of beginner status. From bouldering, wheel-throwing, DJing, and working in fashion production to two research labs and a campus job. I had intended and even promised I would quit some activities, but with every new thing I did, I began to feel like I knew just a little bit more about myself.
On my twentieth birthday, as I sat with one of my closest friends, Ella, at a dim sum spot in North Minneapolis, I shared a new goal with her. In my twenties, I was determined to become a ‘Renaissance man.’ The idea of becoming a master of none deeply resonated with me as, while growing older, the pressure to specialize has increased. This goal is an active rejection of that pressure. I want to not just ‘be good’ at one thing but instead use this time to accumulate knowledge, experience, and skills across all mediums of my interests. I want to say yes to experiences that, despite their uncertainty, offer the opportunity to expand and strengthen my definition of myself.
After saying yes to many new things on campus and successfully letting myself be bad at them, I decided to do something bigger for myself: come to Copenhagen. With no business experience, I put myself out there and applied to the Innovation and Entrepreneurship course and its practicum. Knowing my peers would come from top-ranked business schools across the nation; I prepared myself to be once again placed in the role of beginner, a challenge even more daunting when re-established within an academic context.
Now, a week into my journey in Copenhagen, I feel a profound sense of belonging. I was fortunate to be placed with two roommates, Sarah and Hayden, who are also part of the practicum. They have not only shared their insights but also fostered a deep sense of togetherness. None of us are on this journey alone.
and exploring outside of our Kollegium (Bottom)
And really, no one in Copenhagen ever seems to be alone. The city, which comes with hundreds of articles about Nordic “cold,” is constantly filled with little moments of warmth you see more casually and more openly than most anywhere I’ve ever been. Friends holding hands between bikes, professors toting fruits and pastries to classes, cafés hosting a seemingly endless series of unexpected reunions, and docks constantly full of sun-seeking Danes and foreigners alike. This sense of community and connection permeates every aspect of life in Copenhagen, creating an environment that feels remarkably inclusive and supportive. The togetherness extends to moments alone as well, fostering a strong sense of trust and security that provides a relaxed comfort in exploring and getting lost—a comfort that is hard to find as a young woman.
Here, my goal seems so naturally conducive to the lifestyle of the city, which prioritizes the cultivation of the human spirit in its structure, its design, and its culture. Being here has felt overwhelmingly right, as though by some strange and convoluted destiny, I was meant to be here now. In many ways, being in Copenhagen has made me question my twenty-something aspirations. I’ve begun to wonder if perhaps, without realizing it, my desire to become a ‘Renaissance man’ was really always a desire to become a Dane; exploring, trusting, loving, and carrying myself with the same joy and ease that seems to define the spirit of this city.
Assorted photos from my first week in Copenhagen
