Whiteness and Bodies Out of Place: A Critical Discussion of Early Childhood Educators’ Regulatory Language Practice in a Danish Context

Introduction

Critical discussion on colonialism and normative whiteness in Nordic education has burgeoned (e.g., Eriksen & Jore, 2023; Helakorpi, 2020; Fylkesnes, 2019). This article argues for Danish Early Childhood Education and Care (ECEC) institutions as critical sites in reproducing colonial power structures that foreground normative whiteness through the ideal of Danish language proficiency.

In Denmark and the other Nordic countries, a persistent self-image of innocence, often referred to as Nordic exceptionalism (Loftsdóttir & Jensen, 2012), fails to acknowledge the extent of Nordic involvement in colonialism. Nordic exceptionalism promotes the Nordic welfare states as inclusive and free from the burdens of racism. It is blind to the normative whiteness produced as an effect of Eurocentric colonialism (Loftsdóttir & Jensen, 2012). Contributing to Nordic exceptionalism in a Danish context is the fact that Denmark’s colonial complicity can be considered relatively small-scale compared to other European colonial empires and that the Danish state divested itself relatively early of its colonies in Asia (in 1845) and the South Atlantic (in 1917; Jensen, 2018). Yet, Denmark’s colonial complicity also involves the North Atlantic. For example, the Danish culture and language were imposed on the people of Kalaallit Nunaat (Greenland) because of what was said to be an unselfish urge to ‘modernise’ Greenland in the 1950s and 1960s (Jensen, 2018).

The racial logics of superordination and subordination created during colonialism continue to shape Danish welfare work with its imagined Other (Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022). Research has shown how the racial logics produced become prevalent during national economic crises (Keskinen et al., 2016), limiting universal welfare to certain kinds of citizens (Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022). The Danish state has gone from inviting ‘guestworkers’ from former Yugoslavia, Turkey, and Pakistan to relieve the Danish labour shortage in the1960s (Vertelyté & Staunæs, 2021) to tightening its asylum policy in response to the large influx of refugees in 2015 and 2016 (Etzold, 2017). Immigrants with non-Western backgrounds are positioned as an economic threat to the welfare state (Jensen et al., 2017). Danish public debates and right-wing parties’ rhetoric on immigration, integration and nationhood tend to be dominated by ‘us and them’ categories, making cultural and social integration, a firm state policy from the late 1960s onwards, a question of cultural sameness and the Other’s cultural capacity ‘to harmonize their values with Danish values’ (Jensen et al., 2017, p. 62). After the 9/11 attacks in the United States, having a Muslim background invokes a marker of difference ostensibly culturally incompatible with Danish values and Danishness (Vertelyté & Staunæs, 2021).

In Denmark and other Nordic countries, researchers have noted how ideas of nationhood, for example, Danishness, are tied to whiteness (Fylkesnes, 2019; Hummelstedt, 2022; Skadegård & Jensen, 2018). Whiteness is not reduced to phenotypical markers, but is broadly understood as a norm and a structural power position entailing the right to determine who is a true citizen contra a marginal one (Ahmed, 2007; Garner, 2014). Danish educational research (e.g., Vertelyté, 2022; Yang, 2021; Khawaja, 2015) has pointed to how race, ethnicity, origin, and language, rooted in ideals of whiteness, influence children and adolescents with racial-ethnic minoritised¹ backgrounds. The sense of belonging in educational settings for these children and young people is exposed to the notion of the Other, ‘to subjectivities of inadequacy, needing help and being tolerated’ (Helakorpi, 2020, p. 95). The – often referred to as – bilingual children are positioned as a source of concern and ‘an object of and a specific problem for education’ (Buchardt, 2019, p. 283).

This article argues for the need to look beyond Nordic exceptionalism and takes on Aníbal Quijano’s (2000) notion of coloniality of power (henceforth coloniality). Coloniality draws attention to how historical, political and racial logics constituting colonialism influence contemporary social power relations (Eriksen & Jore, 2023; Quijano, 2000). In this article, coloniality is a backdrop to understanding how Denmark’s colonial complicity in the South and North Atlantic and Asia (Jensen, 2018) continues to reproduce social power relations embedded in ideals of Danishness (i.e., whiteness). These social power relations influence welfare institutions (Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022), including everyday pedagogical practices in ECEC institutions.

The article draws on postcolonial theorist Frantz Fanon’s (1952/2021, 1967) understanding of language as an effective colonial tool for political and cultural domination and Sara Ahmed’s (2007) understanding of how colonialism makes the world white, affecting bodies and social spaces like ECEC centres. Based on observations from ethnographic fieldwork in a Danish ECEC centre, the article asks: How can the ECEC educators’ regulatory language practice directed at three racial-ethnic minoritised children be understood as normative whiteness, and how does this practice affect the children’s positions as legitimate participants in the ECEC centre?

Theoretical perspectives

I approached the ECEC centre as a place for children (Gulløv, 2017) where pedagogical practices, cultural relations and processes of belonging are continuously constituted, negotiated and maintained. Research conducted by Danish anthropologists Laura Gilliam and Eva Gulløv (2017) examines the role of ECEC centres as educational institutions of the nation-state inscribed in historical, social, pedagogical and political conditions. These conditions include the racial logics of superordination and subordination created during colonialism, which are here understood through the lens of coloniality (Quijano, 2000). The concept of coloniality derives from a decolonial perspective and was first introduced by Quijano. He argues that Eurocentrism was universalised during colonialism and continues to shape societies globally through economic and political structures, imposing European cultural norms and values as normative and superior (Eriksen & Jore, 2023; Quijano, 2000). Drawing on Fanon (1952/2021), who emphasised language as an effective colonial tool for cultural and political domination, this article sheds light on how Eurocentrism extends to language ideologies and hierarchies politically linked to the ideals of integration, producing powerful visions of Danishness and national belonging also in ECEC centres.

Critical whiteness scholars, such as Ruth Frankenberg (1993) and Richard Dyer (1997), shift the focus from the racialised or colonised Other, analysing how whiteness is normalised within historical, political, legal, economic, and social structures. These structures, Frankenberg (1993) argues, are usually ‘unmarked and unnamed’ (p. 1), but work to (re)constitute the white norm as superior and a symbol of civilisation (Fylkesnes, 2019). From a postcolonial perspective, whiteness should be approached as a historicised construction (Loftsdóttir & Jensen, 2012). Referencing the influential work of Fanon, Ahmed (2007), whose research lies at the intersection of feminist, queer, race, and postcolonial studies, argues that histories of colonialism make the world ‘white’ (p. 153). According to Ahmed (2007), the repetition of historical, social, pedagogical, political and discursive [white] decisions made over time constitutes the ‘what’ that spaces take shape after. Thus, approaching the ECEC centre as a white space highlights how its institutional space is knitted into power relations produced through and by colonialism. These power relations are closely linked to notions of Danishness and ideals of whiteness, making the ECEC centre space ‘ready’ (Ahmed, 2007, pp. 153–154) for certain kinds of bodies.

Within feminist theory, bodies are considered differentiated rather than simply a given (as ‘nature’) (Ahmed, 2000, p. 40). To gain insight into how racial-ethnic minoritised children’s bodies are differentiated by whiteness, the article takes on the concept of racialisation, which illuminates processes through which phenotypical, cultural and language differences become significant matters of differentiation (Vertelyté, 2022). Approaching language differences as a significant matter of differentiation in ECEC centres relates to questions of whose children’s voices are being heard, silenced, considered (il)legitimate or turned into objects of surveillance (Vertelyté, 2022).

From a postcolonial perspective, emphasising Danish language proficiency as superior becomes a vehicle of the oppressing power in that it maintains lingual ideologies and racialised relations of domination rooted in colonial values (Fanon, 1952/2021, 1967; Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022). Fanon (1952/2021) argued that to speak is to take on the culture implied by the spoken language and be estranged from one’s culture of origin. Thus, the role of colonial language can lead to subjugation and feelings of inadequacy (Fanon, 1952/2021). From a postcolonial perspective, Kjartan Belseth (2021) asserts that ECEC institutions can be colonising arenas for children who speak what are considered minority languages. Belseth (2021) found that children, with their bodily and non-verbal reactions, can challenge the colonising power held by educators to privilege some languages over others. These postcolonial perspectives on language and Ahmed’s work on whiteness, space and bodies allow for an analytical discussion of how racial-ethnic minoritised children navigate the white normativity of educators’ regulatory language practice, through bodily responses and how regulatory language practices affect children’s positions as legitimate participants in ECEC centres.

Methodological considerations

This article is based on 92 hours of critical ethnographic-inspired fieldwork (Madison, 2020) conducted in a Danish ECEC centre during the first three months of 2022. Critical ethnography explicitly questions institutionalised systems perpetuating injustices (Madison, 2020). Conducting participant observations (Fangen, 2010), my observational point of reference was not whiteness. Instead, I was curious to learn how differences related to social categories (e.g., gender, age, disability, and race) were constituted in everyday pedagogical practices and embedded in relations of power and hegemonic norms. Thus, my observational gaze was guided by questions, such as ‘Which normative understandings seem to be negotiated by the educators?’ and ‘What regulating practices of which children are occurring?’

My presence in the field was inspired by the fieldwork method deep hanging out (Staunæs, 2003, p. 62). On average, I spent five hours per day in the ECEC centre, where hanging out allowed me to see, sense and participate in the locally situated practices, providing insight into what was and wasn’t said and done. I acquired insight into which of the children’s actions invoked specific looks and remarks and from whom. I conducted in-the-field conversations with the educators as part of the participant observations. These conversations were initiated by me or by the educators, who were curious to learn what I had observed. Though short and spontaneous, these conversations resembled research interviews as they contributed to situated knowledge about everyday pedagogical practices (Kvale & Brinkmann, 2014). Altogether, the observations and conversations sharpened my analytical attention to the often overlooked social, legitimised and institutionalised forms of participation hooked into societal structures. My field notes consisted of in-the-moment jottings and headnotes taken during the observations, including verbatim quotes and my feelings, reactions and reflections (Emerson et al., 2011). All field notes were elaborated on and systematised daily in a field journal before I left the ECEC centre.

Inside the ECEC centre: The three children’s use of the Turkish language and the educators’ regulation

The ECEC centre was relatively newly built in a suburban area previously associated with families of racial-ethnic minoritised backgrounds and challenged socio-economic statuses. The construction of a large state enterprise nearby had attracted workers and middle-class families to the area. Inside the ECEC centre, a common room was furnished with a reading corner and a home corner, and it had doors leading to smaller group rooms used for age-divided activities in the morning and for free play during the rest of the day.

Though 15 countries were represented by the 32 enrolled children, most of them had a white majority background. The three children in focus all had Turkish backgrounds and were the second largest group of children. The rest of the children were born in or had parents from the Faroe Islands, Greenland, Iceland, Poland, Romania, India, the Philippines, Somalia, Lebanon, Iran, and Afghanistan. Of the seven educators working in the ECEC centre, five had a Danish white majority background. Two had a Danish minority background: one spoke Danish with an accent and another had dark-complexioned skin.

On one of my first days of fieldwork, Petra, an educator with a Danish white majority background, told me that the ECEC staff aim to include children from all cultures and support their play across cultural and lingual differences. She explained, ‘That is why there is a rule in the ECEC centre that the children [with Turkish backgrounds] must speak Danish during mealtimes and when they play if non-Turkish-speaking children are participating’ (field note).

Sometimes I overheard other children use phrases or words from their first language when they talked to themselves or wanted to make a point during a group activity. However, I never heard the educators ask these children to switch to Danish. Reasons for this might have been that the children were talking to themselves – as no other child in the kindergarten shared their first language – or they spoke in a widely recognised language, such as English. Petra further elaborated, ‘However, I do understand the Turkish children’s need to seek each other’s company when playing because they share the same language’ (field note).

Another educator, Laura, with a Danish white majority background, also seemed to understand the Turkish-speaking children’s use of their shared first language:

At lunchtime, the eldest children sit around a table with Laura. At the end of the table, Hiba converses in Turkish with her friend, a 6-year-old boy named Eshan, who is sitting next to her. Laura says, ‘Hiba, remember to speak Danish.’ ‘I speak Turkish,’ Hiba replies. With a compassionate voice, Laura then asks, ‘Why do you speak Turkish? Is it because some words are difficult in Danish?’ In almost fluent Danish, Hiba confirms, ‘Yes, it is hard to speak Danish.’ Laura responds, ‘I know. That is why we need to practice. Speaking another language is difficult’ (field note).

The previous month I interacted with Hiba in the playground, where she positioned her use of the Turkish language in relation to being a Muslim and to her friendship with Eshan and Berna, a 4-year-old girl:

Hiba looks down at me from the top of the jungle gym and asks my name. Before I can answer, she asks me more questions, including my parents’ names. I answer her question and ask her what her parents are named. Hiba tells me, adding, ‘We are Muslims.’ She explains that being Muslim means you speak Turkish, and adds, ‘Berna also speaks Turkish, and another friend of mine, Eshan, also speaks Turkish’ (field note).

From my observations, I learned that Hiba, Berna and Eshan enjoyed playing together, often behind closed doors, using their shared first language. I sometimes heard them say, ‘No grown-ups allowed’ while closing the door to one of the group rooms. The children also defended their play space against non-Turkish-speaking children by denying other children access to their indoor play zone or by playing in the playground’s isolated corners. In such situations, the children’s actions hindered their social interactions across cultural and lingual differences, as emphasised by the educators. The following observation illustrates how pedagogical attention was paid to the Turkish-speaking children’s language and how it was regulated.

All the children were playing freely inside. Hiba, Berna and Eshan were playing in the home corner communicating in Turkish:

Berna and Eshan are on the floor alternately sitting down and rolling around, while Hiba is busy organising green and red vegetables on a tray. From a distance, Alia, an educator who speaks Danish with an accent, addresses Hiba: ‘Hiba, you have to speak Danish.’ At first, Hiba does not react but continues talking with her friends. Again, from a distance, Alia repeats, ‘Hiba, I mean it. You must speak Danish.’ The three children stop talking, and for a few seconds, their bodies are still. Then, Berna and Eshan withdraw to the furthest end of the home corner, away from where Alia is standing. Meanwhile, Hiba has stopped organising the vegetables and is sitting on a chair. Her body is barely moving, speaking no words. After a short while, she joins Berna and Eshan, and the three children resume their play, still communicating in Turkish. However, once heard loud and clear, their cheerful voices are now nothing more than quiet whispers (field note).

Based on the observations above, I will now analyse and discuss the educators’ regulatory language practice and how it affects Hiba, Berna and Eshan’s positions as legitimate participants in the ECEC centre.

The regulatory language practice as normative whiteness

The rule that the children must speak Danish during mealtimes and play when non-Turkish-speaking children are participating, together with the educators’ language regulation of Hiba, Berna and Eshan, can be understood as a practice stemming from the everyday pedagogical emphasis on inclusion. Thus, the educators’ attempt to create an inclusive environment is based on the belief that if everyone speaks the same language (Danish), all children can understand what is being said and participate in social and verbal interactions. Such an understanding aligns with what Gulløv (2017) found to be part of the civilising practices of Danish ECEC institutions: encouraging children to listen to each other while taking turns verbalising their sentiments. Though there is no direct correlation between political ambition and institutional practice, the educators’ foregrounding of the Danish language can also be understood as a pedagogical practice closely linked to the politicised equation between integration and Danish language proficiency. This can be seen as an assimilation policy drawing on colonial dynamics related to the nation (Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022) and, thus, as a practice of statehood (Garner, 2014), producing visions of belonging to the ECEC centre.

Why were Hiba, Berna and Eshan asked to regulate their use of Turkish when other children at the ECEC centre were not asked to do the same when speaking a language other than Danish? Audibility may be part of the answer. Hiba, Berna and Eshan’s racial and religious visibility were not questioned, as in Iram Khawaja’s (2015) study of ethnic minoritised youth in a Danish secondary school. Instead, the children’s audibility disrupted the educators’ ideal of the ECEC centre as a homogenous Danish-speaking context, thus challenging their ideas about integration. By maintaining the Danish language as the norm for social interaction in the ECEC centre, Hiba, Berna and Eshan’s use of their shared first language was found to hinder their participation in and integration into Danish society. Correspondingly, in a Danish primary and lower secondary schooling context, friendship relations between racial-ethnic minoritised students were found to activate a matter of pedagogical concern about minority integration and, as such, require surveillance (Vertelyté, 2022).

Summary and conclusion

Through the coloniality of power (Quijano, 2000), this article looks beyond Nordic exceptionalism (Loftsdóttir & Jensen, 2012) when discussing how ECEC educators’ regulatory language practice directed at racial-ethnic minoritised children can be understood as normative whiteness (Ahmed, 2007; Garner, 2014), affecting the children’s positions as legitimate participants in a Danish ECEC centre.

This article’s introduction showed how Danish ECEC centres, institutions of the nation-state, are inscribed in a politicised equation between integration and Danish language proficiency (Gilliam & Gulløv, 2017). Notions of national belonging and cultural sameness are expressed through assimilation policies which, the article argues, maintain racial logics of superordination and subordination similar to those created during colonialism (Padovan-Özdemir & Øland, 2022). This argument is taken on in the analyses of observations from a critical ethnographic fieldwork (Madison, 2020). The observations give insight into how a group of three 4–6-year-old racial-ethnic minoritised children speaking their shared first language, Turkish, were targeted by the understanding of integration as closely linked to Danish language proficiency, as the educators continuously asked the children to switch to Danish while expressing good intentions of supporting the children’s integration into Danish society.

Drawing on Fanon’s (1952/2021) understanding of language as an effective colonial tool for political and cultural domination, the three children’s responses to the educators’ regulatory language practice are analytically discussed as a subjectification to or rejection of Danish as the civilising language. Combined with Ahmed’s (2007) understanding of how colonialism makes the world white, affecting bodies and social spaces, the analyses shed light on how the three children navigated the white space of the ECEC centre, which offers a fit to the white majority Danish-speaking children.

Seen through the lens of coloniality, the interconnections between colonialism, whiteness and notions of Danishness in the analyses is relevant to consider in the broader political and pedagogical debate on integrating racial-ethnic minoritised children. The analyses show how racial-ethnic minoritised children are rendered bodies out of place (Ahmed, 2000) and how educators become well-meaning accomplices in the reproduction of racialising and colonial structures.