Within its caramel-coloured walls and neat row of bar stools, there’s a sense that something has shifted at Barcelona’s Bar Montserrat. As Cai Qin Chen darts between serving coffees and taking orders, she’s heard her name called out more often in recent weeks than ever before.
“We noticed it right away,” said Chen, who with her husband, Xin Chen, has owned the small bar in the Poblenou neighbourhood for 16 years. “Perhaps people aren’t seeing us as foreigners any more, but rather people who are part of Spanish society.”
What likely set off the transformation is a small, hot-pink sign recently put up in the entryway of the bar. “I’m not ‘the Chinese on the corner’,” it reads in bold white lettering. “You can call me Cai Qin or Jessi. Or a bar, restaurant, cafe or pub.”
It’s a direct challenge to the custom, common across Spain, of referring to certain shops and restaurants by the national origin of the people who own them, such as “the Chinese”.
It crops up across Europe: in France, the term l’Arabe is often used to refer to corner shops run by people with Maghreb heritage while in Rome and beyond shops run by people originally from Bangladesh are sometimes referred to as il Bangla.
Álex Porras and Laia Sánchez hoped to call this practice into question when they launched the campaign #TengoNombre, or I Have a Name.
The pair, who are studying advertising at the Brother Barcelona creative school, had been tasked with building a campaign to tackle social exclusion. As they wandered the city’s streets, tossing around ideas as they ducked in and out of shops and bars helmed by people from around the world, they realised the issue they needed to address was right in front of them.
“We’ve normalised this language,” said Porras, 22. “But if you stop to think about it, it’s a bit racist.”
Ahead of their December deadline, they spoke with shopkeepers in Poblenou, convincing about 10 of them to put up signs, and set up an Instagram page where anyone interested in the campaign could download a sign to put up in their establishment.
Weeks later they watched in amazement as their class project began to take on a life of its own. “It was shocking,” said Sánchez, 24. On social media, the number of people following the campaign rose from a few dozen to more than 8,000, and media requests began coming in from across the country.
One municipality near Barcelona contacted them to say they were interested in taking part in the campaign, while friends sent them photos of signs that had been spotted in businesses across the region. “We didn’t really understand what was going on,” said Sánchez. “At the end of the day, we’re just students.”
As reaction poured in from across Spain and beyond, it was evident they had touched a nerve. “There’s a lot of people who say nice things and others who are just haters,” said Sánchez.
Some opposed what they were doing, while others accused them of having too much time on their hands. But many applauded them for offering people the chance to reclaim their names. “In the end we generated debate and that was what we wanted,” said Sánchez.
Among those who have welcomed the debate is the federation that represents more than 350 business owners from the Chinese community in Spain. “I grew up here and these are words that we’ve always used, even myself as a Chinese person,” said Johni Zhang of the Federation of Chinese Corporations in Spain. “Even we didn’t realise that this sort of language sets us apart from the rest of society.”
He described it as a “micro-racism” that differentiates between businesses owned by Spanish nationals and those whose roots trace to countries such as China or Pakistan. “Every foreigner that comes here, we want to integrate,” he said. “But we also need help from the community here, they have to accept us. And I think this is a very good way to be accepted.”
In recent weeks Zhang has contacted restaurants and shops in the federation and encouraged his social media followers to put up their own signs. “I know people in Galicia and in Madrid who are putting up these signs,” he said, adding that the reaction among business owners had been “100% positive”.
In Barcelona, Malik, a shopkeeper, said he was thrilled to put up a sign with the name of one of his employees, Alí. “It’s little things like this that can change the world,” said Malik, who moved to the city from Pakistan five years ago.
“We learned the language, we work here but they tell us that we don’t integrate,” he told El Diario. “It’s really sad to be told that by people who don’t even bother to learn our name.”
At the nearby Bar Montserrat, the pink sign has continued to make waves. Last month Chen was interviewed on local TV about the campaign, to the surprise and delight of the bar’s regulars.
“At first all they talked about was us being on TV,” said Chen. “But then they said they found the campaign really interesting and were really happy that we could weigh in with another point of view as migrants in Spain.
“And from that day on, they started using our name.”
