As the rotors spin, they stir the air into a flurry of snowflakes while the helicopter stands poised on the icy landing pad.
The wind lashes against her jacket, blowing her hair into her face, yet Aima Jensen—recognized from the popular DR series “Arctic Rescuers”—steps forward with a calm determination toward the awaiting aircraft. Armed with purpose in every movement, she ascends into the cockpit, exuding both confidence and composure. Here, enveloped by the familiar hum of machinery and the powerful whir of rotor blades, she feels at home. Yet, her journey has been anything but linear.
Behind her quiet strength lies a tapestry woven with challenges, courage, and dreams that persevered against overwhelming odds. Each moment spent in the air carries not only the weight of responsibility for her mission, but also the scars from the battles that shaped her into the formidable Greenlandic figure she is today.
Where Strength Takes Shape
Aima Jensen’s roots trace back to Narsaq, where her early education took place in Qaqortoq. Growing up surrounded by the formidable landscape of nature instilled in her the importance of responsibility and action from a young age. Even as an infant, she was no stranger to the helicopter; in South Greenland, it served as a vital mode of transport, seamlessly connecting settlements and people across a terrain defined by sea and mountains. Those early flights were not merely a means of travel; they sowed the first quiet seeds of her ambition long before she could articulate them. She and her sister were introduced to sailing early on, and by the time Aima reached school age, she was already adept with a rifle. Endless hours spent in her grandfather’s workshop honed her practical skills, allowing her to grasp the tools of craftsmanship at an impressively young age.
“My sister and I were incredibly close, but we also clashed quite a bit. My mother would sometimes joke that she must have had two boys,” Aima recalls with a laugh.
Her childhood was a blend of deep familial bonds and stark realities. Conflict filled her parents’ marriage, marked by her father’s two prison sentences during Aima’s upbringing. When she turned ten, the family relocated to Aalborg, a move provoked by her mother’s pursuit of midwifery training, a decision that showcased both courage and determination. This pursuit would later inspire Aima, who began to see that women need not be confined by societal expectations or difficult circumstances.
Too Stupid to Dream?
School, however, proved to be a different battlefield. Aima found herself increasingly out of place in a traditional classroom environment, often reprimanded for taking up too much space. “In Denmark, my classmates would call me a stupid Greenlander. Although I found the idea of becoming a vet or a pilot appealing, those dreams faded quickly as overt ridicule convinced me I wasn’t cut out for it,” she confesses.
When the family returned to Greenland, she attempted high school twice, only to leave both times. For her mother, a passionate advocate for education who herself had overcome learning difficulties, Aima’s decision was particularly hard. “My mother worked tirelessly to help me finish school. She understood my frustrations but firmly believed in the power of perseverance,” Aima says, laughing. “The irony was that I just wasn’t interested in the conventional classroom; I wanted to act.”
Aima’s journey took her in various directions as she explored countless avenues. Athletically gifted, she engaged in high-level sports, boxing, ambulance driving, and military service in the Air Force, eventually becoming a flight attendant with Air Greenland. Each experience forged new skills and refined her understanding of her own capabilities.
“One day, a captain asked me if I had ever considered becoming a pilot. He could sense I had potential, and that conversation changed everything for me,” Aima recalls.
Determined to follow this newfound interest, Aima discovered that becoming a helicopter pilot was not determined by grades but by an entrance exam—and importantly, the financial means to undergo training. Dreams of earning a living at sea were momentarily stunted as the path from military service in the Air Force did not translate directly to naval opportunities. After several attempts to gain recognition, frustration boiled over.
“On my last application to the Swedish Navy, I declared, ‘You want more Greenlanders and more women. Well, I’m both, so if you don’t include me, it seems you’re merely putting on a show for political gain.’ After that, I secured a position as a constable on the inspection ship,” she recalls, pride shining through her words.
During her time in the military, Aima learned discipline and resilience. She transitioned to the Ejnar Mikkelsen, where she made history as the ship’s first female constable—a position in a physically demanding and heavily male-dominated environment. Here, her skills expanded further, including training as a ship diver, which opened the door to becoming a helicopter rescuer.
“Being a rescuer on the Seahawk was exhilarating, and my experiences only fueled my ambition to become a pilot,” Aima remarks, her passion unmistakable.
As the ship prepared for maintenance in 2018, Aima recognized her chance to pursue her dream more directly. With savings in hand, she applied for helicopter training, launching into an exciting new chapter in February of 2019. Two years later, on September 2021, she achieved her dream: Aima Jensen became a certified helicopter pilot, marking the culmination of a journey paved with tenacity and spirit—a dream that took root amid Greenland’s striking fjords and now soared freely across the skies.
Between Rescuer and Pilot
With her newfound qualifications, Aima aimed for Norway, where she could pilot the Écureuil helicopter—the type she had long aspired to fly. However, fate had other plans, presenting an unexpected position as a rescuer with Air Greenland.
“I was torn between wanting to leverage my rescue experience from the military and the desire to fly rather than just sitting in the back,” Aima explains. Encouraged to apply, she was assured that solutions would likely emerge to allow her to pilot with Air Greenland. In February 2022, she began as a rescuer under the search and rescue (SAR) program, a role that proved anything but routine. Missions varied dramatically, from cases of hypothermia to severe traumas and cardiac arrests. This reality demanded that Aima stay in peak physical and mental condition, once again breaking barriers as the sole woman in a largely male-dominated environment.
“You never knew what awaited you when the helicopter took off, but I thrived on the adrenaline, the responsibility, and the chance to truly make a difference,” Aima smiles, her pride evident. However, the long-term vision of merging her rescue role with piloting presented obstacles; Air Greenland’s extensive flying hour requirements far surpassed her recent graduate experience. Thus, Aima embarked on a grueling routine: three weeks as a rescuer in Greenland, followed by trips to Denmark to accumulate flying hours.
When Air Greenland ultimately closed the door on her aspirations of flying, Aima faced a daunting choice. “I plan to step away in February 2024, and that’s a tough pill to swallow. As a female Greenlandic helicopter pilot, one would assume they’d want to retain me, but that isn’t the case,” she shares, her disappointment palpable.
To advance her career and log the requisite flying hours, Aima would have to leave her homeland, targeting Norway—a destination where her aspirations could take flight.
From Homeland to Horizon
Despite the prospect of relocation and modest pay, Aima sought a position in Norway as a cargo man, the starting point for helicopter pilots there.
“During my job interview, I was at a loss with Norwegian. But I thought, ‘Fake it till you make it.’ I wanted that position,” she chuckled.
Thirty minutes post-interview, she received a call. Within a week, she was on her way to Norway. March 2025 marked a turning point. The initial phase was challenging—Aima took on every extra shift she could find. With no fixed abode, she resided in company accommodations to pay off her pilot debt. Flying became her entire life.
“Those early days were tough. My life became a whirlwind of work, and I didn’t have a real home. But this was – and is – my true passion,” she reflects.
After a trial season, Aima secured a permanent role, finally establishing her footing. “The satisfaction that came with it was immense. Against the odds, I persevered. The culmination of my hard work was truly rewarding,” she elaborates.
In many respects, Norway mirrors Greenland’s rugged beauty—mountains and snow, albeit with a touch of greenery. While flying, Aima discovers landscapes that resonate with her memories of home.
“I often ponder whether leaving my homeland was the right move. I followed my dream, and had the opportunities existed in Greenland, I likely would have stayed. Now, I’m finally logging the hours I need to progress in my career. It’s monumental,” she asserts, pride illuminating her voice.
Aima’s path has been challenging, filled with detours and difficult decisions. Yet she remains resolute, refusing to be restricted by other people’s perceptions.
“Life holds many routes—some are just longer, requiring a shift and a few detours. The key is not to stop,” Aima concludes.
And therein lies her strength, not merely in piloting a helicopter, but in her unwavering insistence on claiming her place within the cockpit, even when the winds are against her.