When Alan Lui moved from Hong Kong to Northern Ireland in 1981 he joined a Chinese community that was tiny, isolated and often abused.
Chinese migrants worked seven days a week, usually in shops and restaurants, and kept to themselves, says Lui. “Life was very plain. We didn’t go anywhere. The racism was wild. We were insulted in the street.”
Four decades later the Chinese and other ethnic minority communities have proliferated in a more diverse and tolerant Northern Ireland.
It is an overlooked side-effect of the 1998 Good Friday agreement: as violence wound down, immigration jumped.
The 2001 census recorded 14,300 people, or 0.8% of the overall population, belonging to an ethnic minority. In 2011 that increased to 32,000 people, or 1.8%. By 2021 it was 65,600 people, or 3.4%.
From a tiny base the number of ethnic minority people has almost quintupled in 20 years. Most have come from Asia, Africa and the Middle East. Compared with other UK cities the proportion is still low but the impact on Belfast has been striking, with the arrivals introducing new languages, flavours and music.
A joint BBC and Queen’s University podcast series last year profiled families from Syria, Nigeria and Ethiopia who have made their home in Belfast.
Lui is a poster boy for the transformation. When he was 17 he was working in a takeaway in Cookstown, County Tyrone, enduring racial epithets. Now 59, he helps stage lunar new year celebrations at the Ulster Hall in Belfast.
The annual event in January packs the 1,000-seat venue and gets splashed across local media as a cultural highlight. The most recent show, marking the year of the rabbit, included African music and drew the deputy lord mayor and other dignitaries.
“Chinese people are more open and confident now,” says Lui. “It’s rare that people call you names in the street. There is a lot of respect for our culture. Three-quarters of the audiences we get at the Ulster Hall are not Chinese.”
Lui, who obtained a master’s degree in multimedia while juggling restaurant work, also teaches a course in lion dance, a traditional Chinese dance that mimics a lion’s movement, at Queen’s University Belfast.
Neighbourhoods around the campus brim with a range of Asian and Middle Eastern shops and restaurants on a par with London melting pots. The low cost of living compared with other parts of the UK, especially in housing, continues to act as a magnet.
Most migrants are highly skilled and more likely to have third-level qualifications than the native-born population, according to Economic and Social Research Institute (ESRI) research. Employment rates are high.
“One of the dividends of peace is that people do see Northern Ireland as a destination where they can lead safe lives,” said Kendall Bousquet, an advocacy officer at Migrant Centre NI, which supports arrivals.
However prejudice and exclusion endure. Ethnic minorities are underrepresented in politics and other sectors of a society that is still largely divided between nationalism and unionism. “The perception of migrant communities is that it’s still a green and orange civic landscape. If you fall outside that binary your issues are not considered high on the agenda,” says Bousquet.
Compared with the Republic of Ireland, people in Northern Ireland are less likely to know migrants or to have positive views about them, according to the ESRI findings.
About a tenth of international migrants are seeking asylum. Their experiences are mixed.
Behnam Ghazanfari Pour, 46, a musician from Iran who moved to Belfast 15 months ago, has wowed local audiences with his mastery of the santour, a 72-string instrument. He lauds people’s friendliness and is grateful for help from a charity, Beyond Skin.
But there are frustrations. Ghazanfari Pour is still waiting for an asylum interview. Home is a house crowded with other refugees. His concerts are infrequent and he has not been able to use his other skill – insurance broking – so works at a garden centre. “I could contribute so much more,” he says.
Nasim Heidari, 30, also from Iran, says people have been supportive and kind during her 12 months in Northern Ireland. But lack of permission to work has impeded integration. A trained architect, she would like to become a professional singer. Heidari recently began English lessons, a step to making Belfast home. “It’s a start,” she says.
