‘Football is universal’: Why women in Danish asylum centres are taking up football

Volunteers at Asylum United organise weekly football training for female asylum seekers in Denmark as a way to help them keep fit, meet local women and break up the monotony of life in a reception centre.

'Football is universal': Why women in Danish asylum centres are taking up football
Asylum United organises football sessions in asylum centres around Denmark. Photo: Asylum United

This article is part of Changing the Narrative. Articles in this series are written by student or early career journalists who took part in The Local's training course on solutions-focused migration reporting. Find out more about the project here.

One Monday afternoon, someone knocked on the door to Afifa Alqhadev’s room.

“Do you want to play football with us today?”, a young woman asked.

Alqhadev said no. She did not like football. It was a man’s sport, and she had never tried it before.

“But then she told me to come anyway. And it was nice,” Alqhadev says.

Afifa Alqhadev is 46 years old. She comes from Syria, but now she lives at Sandholm, an asylum centre north of Copenhagen in Denmark, with her husband and their two kids. This is their home now. For how long they do not yet know, but at least while their case is being processed by Danish authorities.

In the first nine months of this year 1,137 people applied for asylum in Denmark. Like Alqhadev, many of them are from Syria. Upon reaching Denmark and applying for residence they are housed in shelters where they can remain for many months while waiting for their future to be decided.

This is why Asylum United decided to organise football training at asylum centres around Denmark. Since 2012, the group’s volunteers have knocked on doors weekly to ask women to play football – or just play around outside – with them.

One of the volunteers, Frederikke Winther, explains that Asylum United aims to create a social community for the women to thrive better both physically and psychologically. 

“We just want to give the women an hour of something different than what they are used to at the asylum centre. We want to create a community, where the women can meet and have a good time together. A haven. We are their friends, someone coming to help them out in a tough environment, talking with them about how they are feeling, and then we start to get to know their kids,” Winther says.

Asylum United targets women and girls aged 15 and up because there are not yet many activities for this group at asylum centres, the association says, and this group can sometimes be difficult to engage in such activities due to religious or cultural norms. To help address that, the volunteers are all women as well.

“I experience at trainings that the women start to talk with each other, about their lives but also about their life at the asylum centre, some of them for the first time. I see how the women get a whole new energy and a smile on their face,” says Winther.


According to the Danish Red Cross, asylum seekers’ life circumstances make them an especially vulnerable group. Many suffer from stress and trauma, both from the experiences they have fled and the flight itself. When living in an asylum centre they have little control over their lives, which can lead to loss of motivation.

Activities organised by volunteers are therefore highly appreciated, says Tanja Karsten, who is a volunteer coordinator for the Red Cross at Sandholm, the largest reception centre in Denmark. She says that playing football helps women forget about their worries, even just for a short time.

“Asylum United creates a community, where the women are able to forget what they are coming from. It is a break in a chaotic life. Even though the women come from different countries and have different backgrounds, they find something in common. It is a great activity and it is good that the women [in Asylum United] come out here to play with the women [at Sandholm] and show them that football is many things,” she says.

“Of course it can be transgressive to kick a ball for the first time, if you are not that good. But then you find out that the others are not that good either and you can laugh about it every time you cannot hit the ball. The women quickly figure out that it is just about having fun. This is a space for them to meet with others and create a community at Sandholm while living here.”


Asylum centres are often dependent on volunteers to support residents in their asylum process, according to the Red Cross, which runs the Sandholm centre.

But it is crucial that volunteers meet asylum seekers at eye level instead of pitying them, so they can be bridge-builders between them and Danish society.

“And then, when the women are back at the centre afterwards, they meet each other and can say hi while laughing and ask ‘can you remember?’ It does not matter where you come from, this is a community, where all women are at the same level,” says Karsten, who calls Asylum United’s initiative “a success”.

That’s not because all women at Sandholm participate in the afternoon football sessions. Often just a few do, or up to ten on a good day. Success is not measured in quantity, by how many women show up, but in quality: by how it affects the women who do.

'I hope I can play everyday'

For many women at the asylum centres football is considered a man’s sport and it is often their first time playing. Still, some of them are willing to try it out when Asylum United once a week knocks on doors to ask them if they want to come out with them to kick a ball around.

Just like Alqhadev, some of the women need a bit of persuasion. But quickly they figure out how relaxed it is and that it is a safe space for them to let go and have fun.

“It is good for us to move our bodies. It feels very good,” says Alqhadev, who worked as a gynaecologist in Syria. In Denmark, she cannot yet work, and she spends most of her time inside the room where she lives with her family.

“I hope I can play everyday,” she says. 

Alqhadev was not the first woman who had to be convinced before showing up on the pitch. Asylum United often has to explain that football is a woman’s sport as well – especially in Denmark, where the number of girls and women playing football increases every year, with around 69,300 currently involved according to DBU, the Danish Football Association.

Nadia Nadim, a former resident of Sandholm, was born in Afghanistan and now plays for Denmark's national football team. Photo: John Thys/AFP

The group’s approach is therefore to just invite the women to come and have a look, share some fruits and snacks, and meet the other women. And then it often results in the women wanting to play themselves next time.

According to Professor Bjarne Ibsen, head of the University of Southern Denmark’s Centre for Sports, Health and Civil Society, the initiative is interesting, but he emphasises that it is important to be aware of the women’s vulnerability as asylum seekers in a new country and that their limits should not be crossed when playing football, which is often a new sport for them.

“My point is: try to not only think in Danish sports activities as they can be unknown to them and therefore less acceptable. These activities can be a problem in relation to the culture they are coming from. It is about building bridges, which becomes difficult by having activities they cannot identify themselves with,” says Ibsen, who thinks it is important to involve the women in planning sports activities to hear what they are interested in.  

However, the approach of Asylum United is not to take football too seriously, emphasises Winther. It is just about having fun. The volunteers are aware that many of the women are not used to doing sports, so they make sure to organise sessions where everyone can participate.

“We use the ball as the playing element, and many think it is fun to try something new. It creates something fantastic. The women laugh about themselves, when they are allowed to try something new that is so radically different,” says Winther.

“We try to include everyone by focusing more on playing around than how well you kick the ball. This is never in focus. Football is universal, everyone can play along. Everyone thinks it is fun when you first get started.”

As well as Sandholm, Asylum United also plays football with women at the Avnstrup centre in Hvalsø, Welcome House in Copenhagen and Jelling asylum centre. They also organise social events such as trips to watch women’s football matches at stadiums together. The group is entirely driven by around 40 volunteers between 20 to 30 years old. 

In 2019, the association was nominated for the 'Part of Something Bigger' prize by DBU for using football to make a difference to everyday lives. They were also invited to Denmark’s annual political festival Folkemødet, or 'People’s Meeting', to share their experiences for others to learn from.

When asked, Alqhadev only can name one improvement to the programme she would like to see: different sports. Even though she has now figured out that football is actually fun, she would also like to play basketball or do karate.

Mette Mølgaard is a freelance journalist based in Copenhagen and Munich. Follow her on Twitter.

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How tutor groups are trying to bridge the inequality gap in Swedish schools

In Sweden, every fourth student in compulsory education has a foreign background, which means that they were either born abroad or born in Sweden with both parents from abroad. However, students from Swedish families and their peers with foreign backgrounds are meeting less and less often in schools, in a result of increased segregation that is posing a challenge for many municipalities.

How tutor groups are trying to bridge the inequality gap in Swedish schools
Camilla Wennberg and Zamzam, one of her students. Photo: Private

This article is part of Changing the Narrative. Articles in this series are written by student or early career journalists who took part in The Local's training course on solutions-focused migration reporting. Find out more about the project here.

In 2019, Sweden's public broadcaster SVT surveyed 3,641 primary schools and reviewed data from Skolverket, the Swedish National Agency for Education, on the academic year 2017/2018. The results showed that the distribution of students from foreign backgrounds was very unequal, with some schools having almost only students from migrant families and others having as few as five percent. According to Skolverket, the concentration of students with the same social and migration background might be one of the reasons for an increased difference in school results, which poses a threat to the goal of offering equal opportunities for all.

The relation between segregation and difficulties in succeeding in school was pointed out by some of the migrant parents in study circles that Eva Lundgren Stenbom, a cultural producer, organised in Norrköping, central Sweden, in 2013. The very decision to found her own NGO, Imagine (what we can do), was motivated by an encounter with the mother of a girl who participated in a project Eva Stenbom worked previously. She wanted help to get to know more locals with whom she could practise her Swedish, because Eva was in fact the only Swede she talked to regularly.

Seeing how difficult it could be for a foreigner to establish relations and feel part of society, Lundgren Stenbom created the association and started the study circles, among other activities such as sewing workshops. The events were planned for locals and migrants living in neighboring areas of the city to meet once a week and discuss the everyday issues they faced in their community.

The meetings were attended mostly by adults, sometimes followed by their children. Topics on integrating into Swedish society and parenthood would often come up, and Lundgren Stenbom remembers many parents asking for help with problems that affected their children, especially in school. Thinking about the younger generations and hearing the demand from parents, she decided to expand the study circles to include children.

For the past four years, an increasing number of students with migrant background have enrolled on the tutoring programme organised by Imagine (what we can do). At first, the study circles took place in Lundgren Stenbom's home, located in a neighbourhood that is almost the perfect metaphor for the segregation between locals and migrants. On one side of the street is the Röda Stan neighbourhood, where most of the houses are owned by Swedes, while right across Värmlandsgatan many migrant families live in the Marielund buildings. The organisation started with the aim of creating places and opportunities for the neighbours to meet.

However, the study circles soon showed to be inefficient, Lundgren Stenbom says, because of the busy and loud atmosphere of several students sharing the attention of few tutors. “Sometimes there would be 10 or 12 students for two or three tutors, and it made it very difficult to advance in the lessons,” she remembers. A different system was needed.

The tutoring programme then became individualised, with better results, according to the NGO's evaluation. As it currently works, each student is paired with a tutor with whom they will work for at least one semester. The meetings usually take place at the tutor's house, which proved to be the best solution and one of the learnings the organisation had throughout the years. “Because many of the students live in families with more kids, very often it is more difficult for the student to focus and concentrate on the work without interruption,” Lundgren Stenbom explains.

The programme also recommends that the tutor/student pair set a schedule of weekly meetings on a pre-defined day and a time slot of one to two hours. Feedback and follow-ups are constant, but according to Lundgren Stenbom they lack data on how much the students' grades have improved after enrolling in the programme.

There are currently 35 pupils, mostly aged 11 to 19 years, receiving help with homework or preparing for exams, and another 20 people on the waiting list. Several of them have been in Sweden for almost 15 years, while some have moved to the country more recently. The goal, Lundgren Stenbom states, is to support the students so they progress to higher educational levels and get better opportunities on the job market.

One of the volunteers on the programme is Camilla Wennberg, an engineer who has tutored two students since 2017. Her current pupil is 14-year-old Somayo, from Somalia, with whom Wennberg has worked for the past one-and-a-half years. Before that, she taught Somayo's older sister Zamzam for two years.

Before stricter recommendations to lower the spread of the coronavirus came into effect in Sweden, every Wednesday evening Somayo and one of her parents would cross Norrköping by tram to go to Wennberg's house. The father or the mother accompanied her because they believe taking the tram alone at night is not safe, which Wennberg agrees with. During the weeks when social contact has been more restricted, tutor and student have met online.

The effort that Somayo and her family make to attend the tutoring session and the fact that she has been not only up to date with her homework, but a bit ahead of the class, is a sign for Wennberg that the Somalian teenager has high educational aspirations. “She is more ambitious,” states the proud tutor. 

Wennberg sees the language as a main factor for difficulties children from migrant backgrounds may have in school. “When it's just calculation it's easy, but when you have to understand what the question is asking for, then it is more complicated for her.” Sometimes they translate the questions to English, which helps.

Ann-Sofi Ringkvist and Madeleine Szente, who coordinate a programme by the Red Cross, which has provided support to schools in Linköping since 2011, also believe that improving language skills is an important feature of homework tutoring and one of the biggest challenges for migrant students and their families in the integration to the school system.

Although the programme was not created with the purpose of helping children from migrant backgrounds, but everyone who needs extra educational support, most of the students are currently from migrant families.

The three schools where the Red Cross is present in the city show the divide in the distribution of students with different backgrounds: in the Skäggetorp neighbourhood, the vast majority of students in the two schools participating in the programme belong to migrant families, while in Ekholmen the proportion of students who do not have a Swedish background is much smaller: around five per class. Ringkvist, who is herself a volunteer, believes that children benefit from a mixed class environment and stresses that several students need tutoring, independently of their family's country of origin.

The program is aimed at students from 8 to 16 years of age. In grades seven to nine, the tutoring takes place after school, while for younger pupils it takes place in a separate room during school time. Unlike the initiative in Norrköping, where the tutoring is requested by the families, the Red Cross volunteers collaborate with the school staff. The tutors, many of whom are retired teachers themselves, work with groups of students and follow the instructions from the teachers. During the sessions, two volunteers provide support for groups of 10 to 15 pupils, but there are times when as many as 25 young students are working together.

The large number of people attending tutoring sessions is seen by the organisation as both a challenge and a sign of success. Ringkvist explains that students wanting to receive tutoring is understood as a positive evaluation of the volunteer's work, but that many children in the same room can make it difficult for them to focus on school content.

“There are several goals, the main one is to make going to school pleasurable. We are not supposed to give them grades, we just want to help them, so maybe they find it easier to talk to a volunteer than to the teachers.They can feel more confident of themselves,” says Szente.


Although the adults involved in the homework tutoring programmes see language acquisition as one of the main challenges students with migrant background face in succeeding in the Swedish school system, what do the young students themselves think?

Somayo, who is being tutored by Camilla Wennberg, was unavailable to be interviewed because she was taking part in a two-week introductory programme to the job market and was working part-time in a fast-food chain. Due to her busy schedule, she was not able to attend the tutoring sessions when we spoke to Wennberg.

Somayo's absence did not seem to be a matter of concern, as her tutor stressed how important the work-training programme was for the teenager. Somayo's grades and accomplishments in maths can be understood as a sign of the programme's success, and alongside the fact that she was also doing part-time work, it can be inferred that her Swedish language skills might be much higher than it may seem.

One important aspect to consider, however, is the difference between the academic language skills required to pass exams such as the national high-school exam – usually a source of anxiety for young people, as it defines the educational pathway they are able to take – and the skills required for everyday interactions in informal settings or in lower-paid work.

The unequal representation of students from migrant families in Swedish schools may result in a daily experience of segregation for the young people who are trying to navigate a school system and a culture foreign to their parents. While governmental strategies to distribute students more evenly are being developed, volunteers in the homework tutoring programmes have been making individual efforts to orientate school children.

As Camilla Wennberg describes, her encounters with Somayo and her family are limited to the tutoring sessions, but these are occasions for her to answer questions from Somayo that go beyond mathematics. She thinks of their friendly exchange with her students as an opportunity she would not have had otherwise, something she values.

“It is nice to know her,” says Wennberg. “I think most people can help others teaching their own language, for example by correcting an essay. They just need to be open minded: whatever you can give, it is worth something.”

Myung Hwa Baldini is a journalist working in education and children's rights. She is based in Sweden.