Bjørk Sigurdsdóttir Lamhauge was born in Tórshavn, one of the smallest capital cities in the world. She’s active in politics and is worried about what climate change will mean for the future.

I think that too many people my age here in the Faroe Islands are overly loyal to authority. They always feel they need to ask for permission to do this or do that. I can be a bit rebellious. If they tell you not to do something, then do it anyway. We all have a voice. We must use it.

I feel very privileged. I’ve always had enough of everything. That’s probably why I know for certain that I want to live in the Faroe Islands when I’m older. I have so many incredible childhood memories of riding my bike with my friends, exploring other neighborhoods. Wherever I go, these islands – the beautiful nature and fresh air, the peace and quiet – always call me back. But that’s pretty much the only thing about the future that I’m sure of. When people ask me what I want to be, I never know what to say. I see myself as an ambitious person who wants to make a difference, but I’m not career-minded. I graduated from high school this summer and now I’m just trying out different things.

Many people say there’s no rational explanation for why we settled on these islands. The climate is cold, wet and rainy throughout the year, and geographically they are small, remote and isolated from the world. But I have never felt isolated. My generation grew up online – the world has become a much smaller place thanks to the internet, and I see myself as both an isolated islander and a cosmopolitan. Movements like School Strike for Climate and Black Lives Matter touch and inspire us. Unfortunately, discrimination also exists here.

I was raised in the heart of Tórshavn. It’s one of the smallest capital cities in the world, with a population of just 22,000. It’s named after the hammer-wielding Norse god of thunder, Thor, and literally translates as “Thor's harbour.” As you may guess, our society and values have always been dominated by men. Fishing and farming have always been the main ways of life here.

That reminds me of something that happened earlier this summer. I gave a speech at an annual political street meeting and talked about climate change and the impact on future generations. Afterwards, lots of people praised me for being brave enough to give a speech and get involved in the public debate. I thought it was a strange reaction. Boys never get that kind of acknowledgement.

I love it here. It’s one of the safest places in the world with almost no crime or poverty. It’s friendly and there’s a real community spirit. You’re raised to look people in the eye and smile. It’s also a very informal place. I can’t think of any other country where you can find the prime minister’s number in the phone book, or where you will bump in to the minister for health in the local swimming pool.

Tourism has increased dramatically here over the past few years. Some visitors are really bad mannered though, which makes me sad. They can be impolite, disrespectful and aggressive – they jump queues and things like that. Of course, some are also very polite, respectful and grateful. I like to travel myself and it’s made me more conscious of how to behave when visiting other countries.

My plan is to study abroad, maybe in Sweden or Denmark, in two or three years’ time. I want to meet new people and widen my intellectual horizons. I think we’re expected to get an education here. Many of the islanders who go to university abroad don’t come back. For decades, there’s been an ongoing struggle to encourage young people to move back home, particularly young women, and thankfully that struggle is finally starting to pay off. I also feel that it’s my responsibility to be part of the movement trying to create a more diverse, modern and tolerant society.

Tórshavn sometimes feels stressful. It sounds silly, I know, saying that to people who live in much larger cities, but I feel like I’m running behind all the time. So, I’ve just accepted a job in a daycare centre on Nólsoy, a small island east of Tórshavn, where life is even more simple and slow. Only 230 people live there. From now on, I’ll be taking the ferry at 7:45 every morning.

It feels like I’m taking a step into real life. I’m looking forward to working with kids, but I don’t think daycare will be my profession forever. I wrote in the application that I want to become a social worker, but two days later I changed my mind. For now, I’m just grateful to have a stable job and to not have to worry about money.

I’m also finally taking driving lessons! I used to tell my friends that I didn’t want to get my licence because I care about the environment. It was just a joke – the truth was that I didn’t have enough money. Or maybe just that I’m stingier with it.

I still live with my parents. My mum is a graphic designer and my father is the CEO for the public agency responsible for infrastructure. My middle name, Sigurdsdóttir, means Sigurd’s daughter. He’s a well-known figure here thanks to his job. Actually, almost all of us are. In a small community like ours, everybody knows everyone. The gossip and social pressure can be tense, but I’m used to it now.

My grandfather is a well-known musician. In February he was awarded a mark of honour for, in their words, paving the way for Faroese pop music that gave a voice to our young people. He opened his music store in 1959 and is still going strong. I visit my grandparents once a week, and every time I tell them about my friends they ask who their parents are. You see, everybody knows everyone in some way.

I was raised to believe we’re in control of our own destiny. I am a proud republican and member of the Faroese Republican Youth Organisation, and sometimes I think about pursuing a career in politics. The Faroe Islands are a self-governing nation under the external sovereignty of the Kingdom of Denmark. I really want to see independence from Denmark during my lifetime. 

In March the corona pandemic hit us. It was an extraordinary day when the government announced the lockdown. I was watching the press conference on the television and felt a bit frightened, because we didn’t know what was coming. Luckily we have avoided coronavirus deaths and, overall, the economy is still doing well. There were no active cases between May and August, so things have been pretty normal compared to other countries

Where do I want to be in 20 years? I don’t know, but I hope my values are the same. I hope there will be more solidarity and less individualism. No one can help everyone, but everyone can help someone. That’s my motto. And to be honest, I’m very scared by how uncertain the future is. I wonder what climate change will mean for my generation. Us young people must speak up, before it’s too late.