The project explores the subculture of Denmark’s most dedicated Tessa fans. Tessa is one of the country’s biggest female rappers, and her raw honesty has gathered a following of young girls from across social backgrounds. Many carry difficult experiences — homelessness, sexual abuse, abuse, bullying, and alienation in school — yet through Tessa they find hope, strength, and the courage to believe in themselves and their future. The fans are named Sjakalinas – the female equivalent of a jackal. The girls claims that being a Sjakalina is an identity and an attitude that unites them as community.
Under Tessa’s Wings
On the wall behind Eva’s bed hangs her new Tessa poster. Eva is 17 years old and lives in Ringsted. She struggles to stay in school, and when it becomes to overwhelming, she text her idol on Instagram: "Hi Tessa, I know there isn’t anything you can do, but it calms me to text you, and I feel like you are the only person I can trust. Lately, I’ve been feeling really low, I don’t know why, but even the smallest things make me want to cry. Since summer, I’ve been at boarding school. Every minute has been tough, but right before Christmas Eve, I actually felt okay here. I felt seen and happy. But after the holidays, I feel so alone. I don’t want to be here. My social battery is dead, my anxiety is worse than ever, but I keep pushing myself to stay. I feel so alone. I have friends, but I don’t really feel like they are my friends, it’s mostly all about them."
"Being a Sjakalina means walking down the street with your chest held high and your shoulders back." At 18, Cia has experienced more trauma than most girls her age. She has been in abusive relationships and has been kicked out of her childhood home more than once. Today, she lives in an apartment provided by the municipality. Trusting people doesn’t come easy—she fears they will turn on her without warning. Cia feels that Tessa saw her in a way that nobody else ever did.
When Helena turned 18, some of the other Sjakalinas arranged for Tessa to FaceTime her to wish her a happy birthday. When the call came in, everyone froze for a moment—and then screamed. They all crowded onto the bed, leaning in to Facetime with their idol. "I miss youuuu," Tessa says, tears in her eyes. "We miss youuuu," the girls shout back. "Have you been drinking? You’re not smoking hash, are you?" They all laugh. "You are the most special kind of people in the world. I really hope you know that," Tessa adds. "It’s your fault that we’re all here together. If I didn’t have you guys, I wouldn’t have anyone to invite. Then it would just be my 18th birthday with Dad," Helena says. "I love you guys. You’re incredible. I don’t know what I would do without you." Tessa starts to tear up. "I love you so much." "We love youuuu," the girls reply in unison.
Some of the Sjakalinas have developed a very special bond with their idol, describing it as almost a sister-like relationship. They text Tessa every day—sometimes to share good news, other times to confide deeper personal stories. They hide from security guards as they wait for her after a concert. They build and maintain social media accounts dedicated to promoting their idol, turning their devotion into a collective digital presence, and when Tessa interacts with their social media accounts their world stops for at brief moment. 
Maja is 16 years old and grew up in one of Denmark’s most vulnerable ghetto areas. As a young girl, she would take a small JBL speaker outside and play Tessa’s music loudly for the whole neighborhood to hear. Maja has been a Sjakalina since 2019. "Tessa and I are like sisters. We’ve known each other for a long time and shared deep stuff. Sometimes she even points at me from the stage."
It’s the morning of a sleepover. Yesterday, Thea (left) and Nathalie (right) went to a club where Tessa was performing—not to attend the concert, but to wait outside in the cold for several hours, hoping for a chance to say hi to their idol. For the occasion, Thea brought a letter that read: "Dear T., Once again, I just want to say THANK YOU for everything you do for us. Words can’t describe how much it means—we love you forever. I’m so proud of everything you’ve achieved, and each day you make me even prouder. Thank you for saving me when I was at my lowest. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be here today. Words really can’t describe my love for you. I love you."
When 16-year-old Augusta needs a confidence boost, she puts on Tessa in her ears. Listening to Tessa’s music reminds her that she is good enough as she is and that she should go after her dreams. "She just makes me believe in myself more. But in general, I think she does so much for kids who need to believe in themselves, because it can be hard if you feel like you look ‘wrong.’ Especially when your body starts to change."