Imagine a young woman whose parents are Bubis, an indigenous people from the island of Bioko. She was born and raised in Spain. She speaks Spanish naturally, celebrates local holidays, studies European history, and identifies culturally with the Spanish landscape. However, there may be moments when Bubi culture imposes itself as a strong presence: the ancestral language she barely speaks, the rituals, the stories of the island, the expectation of “not forgetting who she is.” In Spain, she may be seen as ‘African’; in her ancestral homeland, as “too Spanish.” Her identity becomes a space of constant negotiation.

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This mismatch is not an individual failure, but a symptom of a historical condition: the diaspora. Belonging to communities that are sometimes uprooted—because they were forced to migrate or because globalization diluted their cultural boundaries—means building identity without a stable territory. Memory replaces soil. Language, when preserved, is a bridge; when lost, a wound.

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Another example is that of a young man born in France to French-speaking African parents. French is spoken at home and at school. There is no obvious language barrier. However, culture is not limited to language. The way of understanding family, religion, authority, or community can differ profoundly. This young man may feel fully French in his public life, but experience his African heritage being reduced to stereotypes or celebrated only as exoticism. The tension is not in the language, but in the social gaze and the expectation of cultural loyalty.

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Globalization adds another layer to this phenomenon. On the one hand, it facilitates access to ancestral culture: music, literature, social networks that connect with the country of origin. On the other hand, it homogenizes tastes, references, and aspirations under a dominant global culture. Young people in the diaspora not only navigate between two worlds, but also between multiple narratives that compete to define who they should be...

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For young people to feel that they belong to their community without renouncing their complexity, clear cultural and educational strategies are needed. First, promote intergenerational spaces where cultural transmission is the main objective. Second, teach the history of diasporas in education systems, legitimizing these identities as part of the national narrative. Third, support cultural initiatives—festivals, associations, artistic projects—that allow tradition to be reinterpreted from a contemporary perspective. And finally, recognize that belonging is not an exam that can be passed or failed, but a dynamic process.

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In the diaspora, where identities always seem to be negotiated, knowing one's roots strengthens self-esteem and provides tools to move more confidently between different worlds. Because those who understand their origins navigate with greater awareness, and in that awareness, they find a fuller and freer way of belonging.
 

BÖSUBÓBBÈ MAY MATA