Julie and Erling are partners in life, lab and love

One summer evening in late August 2024, Erling Nørkær was running through the streets of Trondheim looking for a shop that was open.

He had had to hastily leave a conference dinner with colleagues from all of the Nordic region.

The conference, Nordic Meeting in Neuropsychology, focused on brain health — and it was a relevant topic for both Erling Nørkær and his wife and colleague Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard. He was writing a PhD on what people who suffer from face blindness experience when they see and remember faces. Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard, who is working on a PhD on children’s ability to actively forget unwanted memories, had been invited as a speaker.

And their barely four-month-old baby, who until then had babbled through most of the conference, suddenly was in urgent need of a new nappy during dinner. And the baby bag was back at the hotel room. »He of course had to be changed and put into his pyjamas in the middle of the dinner,« says Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard.

She is sitting next to her husband, Erling Nørkær, in her office at the Department of Psychology. Through the window, you can see the front garden of the old municipal hospital in full bloom. Two bike helmets hang on the coat rack by the door. Two photo frames with pictures of children are on the desk.

When Erling Nørkær returns from paternity leave in a month’s time — with the couple’s second child, the little boy who joined them in Norway — he will take over the second desk in the office to finish writing his PhD. This will seal the merger of their two lives that all started when the couple met ten years ago.

Work–life balance and the relationship between career and family life are a frequent topic of debate — also in academia. But Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard and Erling Nørkær offer a different perspective. Their work spills over into their family life, their family life spills over into their work, and every now and then, someone has to work on a Sunday.

And neither of them would want it any other way.

Late-night philosophical debates

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard and Erling Nørkær met at a party at the University of Copenhagen in 2015. They were both studying psychology — she was in her first year, and he was working on his bachelor project.

She already knew who he was. Erling Nørkær was a teaching assistant and wrote for the psychology students’ magazine, Indput. He had an advice column and wrote poetry — including one about Ikea.

Was it a good poem about Ikea?

»It was brilliant!« she says.

At the party, she asked if he wanted to go outside, have a beer, and talk for a bit. And while they were caught up in conversation, the party and the rest of the city quietly shut down without them noticing.

It was 15 February 2015, the day Copenhagen was shaken by a terrorist attack that claimed the lives of film director Finn Nørgaard and volunteer security guard Dan Uzan. Julie and Erling spent the next day side by side, watching the news unfold.

Since then, they have made their way through the study programme together, exchanging ideas and discussing theories and academic topics. They spent long evenings having the kind of far-reaching red wine-fueled debates only possible when you have all the time in the world: Does the world exist independently of our perception of it? What is the relationship between language and things? What is consciousness?

They debated the philosophy of science and the Marxist philosopher Louis Althusser’s theories on real and perceived objects.

They worked together at her parents’ factory outside the city, making buckets and fishing floats, baskets and net rings to save up for a trip. To this day, she can still picture him at the bucket machine, fully focused in the heat, listening to Norwegian novelist Karl Ove Knausgård’s My Struggle through his headphones.

READ ALSO: Gender inequality starts with young researchers. And it is all about children

Ten years, a wedding and two children on, the talk has shifted from Knausgård and consciousness to wellies and runny noses, drop-offs and pick-ups.

That’s also why they appreciate sharing not just a workplace and academic field, but an office.

»Now we actually have the time — we can take a coffee break together and actually talk about grown-up things,« says Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard.

In the middle of the endless logistics of life with small children, their days at the department are a rare chance to see each other as they once were — before everything revolved around schedules and chores.

“It’s a way of really seeing you,” she says. “Here, you’re Erling — not just the flatmate I share a to-do list with. It’s really you sitting here.”

Watching your partner shine

Others, however, have raised their eyebrows at the setup — at their wish to spend so much time together. Wouldn’t they at least prefer to have separate office hours?

But the answer is no:

»I think we really do boost each other’s commitment and motivation at work. We get to see so many sides of each other that I think many other couples don’t. It’s a real privilege,« she says.

»Yes,« he says from the chair beside her. »You get to see each other in action here.«

When Erling Nørkær was halfway through his PhD, he held a midterm seminar. His wife sat in the audience and felt incredibly lucky to be there, sharing the moment with her husband. She was proud of him.

And of course she would have been proud if it had been any other colleague, and of course she would have been proud even if his research had been in a completely different field, she says:

»But it was still something special to see you standing there. In those moments, I really feel like I see you. I see how talented you are, and I see what you’re capable of,« she says to him.

And she continues: »You get to watch your partner shine, and it reminds me of what’s so great about being in this relationship.«

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard and Erling Nørkær are often asked whether they see each other as competitors. They are both doing PhDs in the same field, and both dream of a future at the university. At some point, they’ll be applying for the same jobs and competing for the same research funding.

»If we both want to pursue an academic career here at the department, it will inevitably narrow down at some point. But right now, we’re competing with everyone — also internationally,« says Erling Nørkær.

»If, in the future, there’s a position I apply for and don’t get, I would hope that it is Julie who gets it. I only have an interest in you succeeding,« he says.

Consideration for one another

When Erling Nørkær returns from paternity leave in a month, he’ll come in each day, switch on his computer, and settle into the office he shares with his wife — whether the morning with their two small children has gone smoothly or not.

The question is whether you can really leave all the logistics and small conflicts outside the office door.

Of course not, they say. But maybe that’s not even the goal.

»I think it just makes you more tuned in to how the other is doing that day,« says Erling. »I know, for example, that Julie didn’t sleep well last night because she was up with our son — so I can take that into account. Sure, we have mornings when the kids are going wild, but that doesn’t mean we take it out on each other.«

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard nods:

»It’s actually surprising how little time and space you need before you can say, okay, that was just the situation. That happened, and now we’re in a different place,« she says.

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard knew early on that she wanted to be a researcher. She got a student job at the Department of Psychology, did a research internship at the University of Cambridge, and laid the foundations for her PhD project already during her master’s degree.

Erling Nørkær was less determined. After his bachelor’s degree, he took a break from university, wrote and published a novel, and pursued another dream for a while before returning to his studies two years later.

»We’ve walked this path together and, to a large extent, shaped each other’s academic interests,« he says.

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard nods:

»We probably would have been interested in the same things independently of each other, but we’ve really had the chance to nurture those interests because we understand each other’s curiosity,« she says.

The university’s leaky pipeline

That universities struggle to retain female researchers is hardly news — but it’s drawing growing attention. Every time a woman leaves academia, the university loses talent.

It’s not because women are absent from classrooms. In 2024, 63 per cent of students at UCPH were women. Yet in the same year, only 29 per cent of professors were.

The phenomenon is known as the “leaky pipeline” — the further up the career ladder you go, the more women opt out of the university as a career path.

Last year, our Danish-language site reported that three out of four female researchers were considering leaving the university — with competition for research funding cited as the main reason.

A university career is, by definition, marked by many temporary contracts and a degree of uncertainty. But a study by the think tank DEA showed that female researchers experience greater uncertainty than their male colleagues.

These insecure employment conditions and high performance demands can be difficult to combine with family life, especially for women. They typically take longer parental leave and shoulder more of the caregiving responsibilities at home.

An analysis from the Danish Council for Research and Innovation Policy from 2024 showed that if progress continues at the current pace, we will reach gender equality in academia in Denmark in 2055.

Always behind

The issue of gender equality is not new to the researcher couple. Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard began her PhD one year after her husband, but will end up finishing it two years later. Having two children in the space of three years has meant delays for both of them — but more for her.

»You’re away from your project for a longer time because you’ve taken the longest parental leave, and there are some career disadvantages to that. A lot happens in the meantime,« says Erling Nørkær.

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard nods. The feeling of being behind is constantly there, she says — lingering at the back of her mind, pushing her to work efficiently so she doesn’t slip even further behind.

»I don’t necessarily have time for a long chat with a colleague in the kitchen, because I need to get these things done before I leave.«

But, she says, having children also makes you better at your job.

»I really have to work efficiently in the time I’m here. I no longer have the luxury of dwelling on the small stuff.«

She will always recommend having children, even though it turns your career plans upside down.

»It’s damned hard — but it’s also amazing.«

Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard recently decided to go from a 37-hour to a 30-hour workweek to make family life more manageable. It’s a decision that will, of course, delay her progress even further. So why isn’t it him who cuts back on hours for the sake of the family?

»Yes, that’s actually a good question,« Erling Nørkær admits.

Part of the reason, he says, is that he’s close to completing his PhD. He’ll start a postdoc at the department after the summer break, and if he hadn’t taken paternity leave, he would have finished six months ago.

»That’s probably what kids do. They derail your career path,« he says with a grin.

The couple reckons that they’re good at talking about any gender imbalances that arise. They try to organise their lives in a way that household chores don’t automatically fall on one person.

»Do you feel worse off than me because you’re a woman and a mother?« Erling Nørkær asks his wife.

She pauses. It’s a hard question. Inequality in the labour market certainly exists — there’s no doubt about that — but she feels they’re both conscious of it.

And that brings us back to the conference in Trondheim last summer. Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard was invited to present her PhD project at the conference when she wasn’t yet pregnant, and as the conference approached, it became clear she was likely to be cradling a tiny baby.

»I thought, well, since Erling was also going, it would be fine. Then we’d be two people to care for the little one.«

An immature sector?

With its many insecure and short-term employment conditions, academia has been criticised for being a tough environment for parents of young children.

In an interview with the University Post, Rector David Dreyer Lassen previously referred to the university as an »immature sector«.

»The university has to be an attractive place to work,« he said. »Also for the new generations, who prioritise different things. It shouldn’t just be hard and exhausting, but also a nice place to be. That’s a competitive factor the university needs to tap into. And that’s where we’re a bit immature as a sector.«

The young couple agree with this.

»The flip side is that there’s enormous flexibility in your working life as a researcher. And that’s a huge advantage when you have small children. I know a lot of people with regular 9-to-5 jobs who are more stressed because they have to be out the door at a specific time,« says Erling Nørkær.

At the university, you can take a short day if a child suddenly needs to be picked up from daycare. The trade-off is that you have to make up the hours another time. And when one of them suddenly has to go into the office, it helps that they know each other’s work so well.

»We understand that the other person’s work is important,« says Erling Nørkær.

But can’t you relate at all to the idea that an academic career easily seeps into your private life?

»I think there has to be a limit to how much the university should adapt to people’s private lives. It also has to be a demanding job at a high academic level,« he says.

The current trend is a bit different though. More like: ‘People should accommodate me.’ It doesn’t sound like you’re fully on board with that narrative?

»No, I don’t buy into that at all. At least not when you’ve chosen a job where high expectations are part of the deal. Otherwise, you should find a job that’s a bit less demanding,« he says.

»Yes — or one with different conditions, right?« says Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard.

Down to 50 hours

When Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard had to do a research internship during her master’s, she and Erling Nørkær moved to the University of Cambridge. That was before they had kids. They worked with another academic couple who had a small child and who therefore had to each cut back their working hours — to 50 hours a week.

»You could definitely sense that the structures at Cambridge were quite old-fashioned. The requirements were just different. Compared to other international universities, UCPH offers good conditions for family life,« she says.

Later, when the couple returned to the University of Cambridge, it was with a one-year-old daughter and a real childcare juggling act. Grandparents on both sides of the family flew to England to help out, and Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard’s sister also came to assist. During the periods when they didn’t have help, they took turns working during the day and continued into the evening.

That’s not sustainable in the long term. And if Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard and her husband decide to have more children, something in their circumstances will have to change, they say.

They’ve talked about moving abroad for a few years — perhaps when she becomes a postdoc. They don’t imagine both of them being able to sustain academic careers at a foreign university with two small children, so they’ll have to come up with another plan. Maybe Erling Nørkær will stay home for a while and pursue his interest in literature and writing.

So you’ll be a diplomatic spouse?

»Exactly,« laughs Erling Nørkær.

»I think,« says Julie Ertman Nørkær Lundsgaard, »it’s about understanding the conditions you have — and then trying to organise your life accordingly. And sometimes that takes a bit of creative organising.«

This article was first written in Danish and published on 4 August 2025. It has been translated into English and post-edited by Mike Young.