Kirseberg began as a dormitory town settled by former rural Skånians who sought to join the industrial working classes in the late C19th and early C20th, but who were too poor to be able to afford to live within what were then the city limits. Long since absorbed into the sprawl of Greater Malmö, Kirseberg nonetheless retains much of the visual character of such otherwise lost communities, thanks to its being one of the last to be gentrified—a process which arguably began in the 2020s, and is now in full flower, as the mix of tenements and tiny row-houses are refitted by the left-of-center retirees who bought them up during the downturn.
Though its demography is much changed, Kirseberg nonetheless also retains a sense of its separateness from the rest of the city, which might be in part due to its topography: somewhat higher in elevation, locals often talk of living “on the slopes”, while down-town jokers sometimes refer to it as “Malmö’s mountain”. Or perhaps it’s just because it is effectively boxed in, cushioned by parks to the east (Bulltoftagard) and south (Kungshälla), yet pushed up against the railway lines and shunting yards to the north and west.
Whatever the reasons for its existence, Kirseberg’s village-y vibe is definitely a thing, and people tend to either love it or hate it.