Casa Asia on International Women's Day: 8 interviews for 8M

On the occasion of International Women's Day (March 8), Casa Asia publishes a series of eight interviews with women from the Asian diasporas in Spain, whose personal and professional trajectories are brave, inspiring and transformative. 

The first interviews are now available, and throughout the month of March we will complete this International Women's Day special with the rest of the interviews.

Nadia Ghulam, born in Kabul, Afghanistan, is a refugee, storyteller, and activist. At age 8, she suffered severe injuries from a bomb explosion above her home during the civil war. After the war, and as the eldest daughter of a family where the only brother died, she had to disguise herself as a man for 10 years in order to work. Nadia is an activist out of necessity. Today, she is an influential figure in promoting peace, education, and gender equality. She has collaborated with organizations such as the Assembly for Cooperation for Women. Paz, Casa Asia and AUDIR. She has won numerous awards and has also participated in United Nations summits and several TEDx Talks. She has been working at the Fundació Catalana de l'Esplai in Barcelona since 2019.

What memories do you have of your childhood in Afghanistan? What lessons would you highlight?

I was born in Kabul, the capital of Afghanistan. I remember my childhood there with very mixed feelings. On the one hand, I treasure the moments full of family warmth, the richness of our traditions and the beauty of community life. On the other, I cannot forget the challenges and uncertainty that were part of my daily life. These memories, both sweet and difficult, have contributed to my commitment to work for a future of peace and hope. During my childhood and adolescence, Afghanistan was a country marked by instability and constant conflict. Living in that environment meant facing daily challenges, where uncertainty and fear were part of everyday life. However, I found in my family and community an inexhaustible source of support and strength, which allowed me to survive and learn to value every moment of peace. From these experiences I have learned very important lessons: I have learned resilience, the importance of solidarity and the ability to transform pain into a positive force. It taught me to find hope even in the darkest moments and to understand the transformative power of education and dialogue. These experiences have shaped me deeply and have driven me to work for a more just and peaceful future, both for myself and for others.

What were the circumstances of your departure from Afghanistan and your arrival in Spain?

I decided to leave Afghanistan because of an urgent medical need. At the early age of 8, I was injured when a bomb fell on my home in Kabul, which left a deep mark on my childhood. These injuries and the increasingly dangerous environment led me to seek a safe place where I could receive the medical treatment I so desperately needed. Coming to Spain meant a new beginning for me, a space where I could not only access the necessary health care, but also rebuild my life in an environment of peace and opportunity. This change has been fundamental to my healing process and to reaffirm my commitment to peace and solidarity.

How did you feel when you arrived and how do you feel now? How has the process been?

Adapting to Spain has been an emotional experience. When I arrived, I felt overwhelmed by uncertainty and accumulated pain, but I also had the hope of finding a refuge where I could rebuild my life. The language barriers and cultural differences gradually disappeared thanks to the warmth and solidarity of my Catalan family and many other people who helped me take small steps towards integration. Today, I look back with gratitude and feel more secure, at peace and deeply grateful for this new path. My experience in Spain has allowed me to heal, reconnect with my roots and forge an identity that unites the best of my past with my present. Each small step is a step towards a future full of hope and commitment.

Can you tell us about your journey, from refugee to writer, now activist?

From my experience as a refugee, I have learned to transform pain and adversity into strength and hope. My journey began in Afghanistan, where difficult circumstances and past wounds drove me to seek a new beginning. Upon arriving in Spain, I discovered that the written word was the perfect tool to tell those truths that rarely appear in the media, to express my reality and give voice to all those innocent people who suffer because of war. This prompted me to write, although I do not consider myself a writer, but rather a storyteller: that art was passed on to me by my Afghan mother.

Through my words, I have wanted to give a voice to those who, like me, have lived through extreme situations and to share the lessons of resilience, peace and solidarity that I have learned. Over time, my commitment has broadened and I have decided to become actively involved at an international level, defending human rights and supporting vulnerable communities in global forums and in various solidarity initiatives.

This journey from refugee to storyteller and international activist has allowed me to transform my own story into a message of hope and change, showing that even in the darkest moments, it is possible to find light and work towards a better future for all.

The projects you carry out help raise awareness about the situation of women in Afghanistan. What impact do they have on a more personal level?

Each project I undertake to raise awareness about the conflict and the situation of women in Afghanistan, or in times of war, gives me a deep sense of purpose. On a personal level, this work allows me to transform my pain into action, giving me the opportunity to share my story and, through it, empower other women and those who have suffered in silence. In addition, this commitment connects me with my roots and reminds me of the importance of continuing to fight for justice and equality. Each initiative fills me with energy and teaches me that, even in the most difficult times, it is possible to find light and hope. I feel that my work not only contributes to generating social change, but also helps me grow and reaffirm my identity and my commitment to a better future for all.

What factors have been key to facing difficulties and surviving?

To endure and survive what I have experienced, I have learned to rely on my inner resilience and the unconditional love of my Catalan family, which has been and continues to be my pillar of confidence to keep going. Finding small moments of peace and hope, even in the midst of chaos, has allowed me to continue.

What has helped me the most has been the constant support of those around me and the solidarity of people who, in the darkest moments, have lent me a helping hand. I have learned to transform pain into strength, always looking for that light to guide me in the darkness.

Without a doubt, the hardest thing has been losing a childhood full of uncertainty and fear, and facing the daily challenge of adapting to a new world. However, there are key moments that have marked my path: the warm embrace of my family when I needed it most, the decision to seek help and meeting people who shared my struggle for hope and change. These moments have been fundamental in rebuilding my identity and reaffirming my commitment to a better future.

Has the support of people? of institutions? of society in general been very important?

The support of society in general has been fundamental for me, especially that of the people, whose accompaniment and solidarity have driven me forward. On the other hand, institutions have not been so cooperative; on many occasions they have imposed bureaucratic barriers on me that have made me lose time and caused many tears. Despite this, human support has been my driving force on the path to healing and integration.

What was your experience in the refugee camps like and what were the circumstances?

My experience in refugee camps has been one of the most difficult periods of my life. Although they were previously known as "concentration camps" and are now called "refugee camps," the conditions remain very similar: precariousness, lack of resources, and an atmosphere of constant uncertainty. These circumstances have left an indelible mark, but they have also highlighted the importance of solidarity and mutual support, which have been essential for getting through each day.

What has been your career here? What was your training and what do you do?

I have completed vocational training in IT and social integration, a degree in Social Education, and a master's degree in International Development. Currently, I work as a social educator at Fundesplai and direct "Ponts per la Pau," an NGO I co-founded. This experience has allowed me to combine technology, integration, and education in my commitment to peace and solidarity.

Do you have any news from Afghanistan? What is the situation of women in Afghanistan now? 

The situation of women in Afghanistan remains alarming. After some progress in the past, recent years have brought a significant regression in their rights and freedoms. Today, access to education, participation in public life and freedom of expression are severely restricted. Yet, despite this oppressive climate, the resilience and determination of Afghan women remains strong. Many continue to fight, often in very difficult conditions and at personal risk, to claim their right to a dignified life and equality. Personally, the strength of these women inspires me to continue working and raising my voice on their behalf, in the hope that, despite the challenges, they will one day be able to live in an environment of true justice and freedom.

The situation of women in Afghanistan is no longer discussed much in the media…

I think that, unfortunately, the media has stopped paying the attention it deserves to the tragedy that women in Afghanistan experience every day. In their eagerness to attract audiences and sensationalize, they prioritize narratives that sell more because of current geopolitical issues, leaving aside the real and painful stories of those who have suffered every day for so long. It is essential to recover ethical and committed journalism, of which we have few examples, that does not forget or silence the voice of the affected communities.

You are the founder of Pont per la Pau, what do you do with the Association?

At the Pont per la Pau Association we work to build bridges of understanding between Afghan women, promoting dialogue for peace and hope, reconciliation and inclusion. Through cultural, educational and social initiatives, we seek to raise awareness about the importance of peace and create spaces where experiences are shared, wounds are healed and realities are transformed. We firmly believe that change is built from the base, promoting the active participation of society in the creation of a more just and peaceful future.

When people talk about Afghanistan, they always talk about war and the Taliban. What would you like people to know about Afghanistan?

Its rich cultural heritage and the strength of Afghan women as agents of peace. Beyond the conflicts and the reductionist image of the Taliban, Afghanistan is a country of ancient traditions, where art, poetry, music and customs reflect a vibrant and diverse history. It is essential to recognise the resilience and hospitality of its people, as well as the vital role played by women, who, despite adversity, have shown extraordinary determination in the fight for justice, equality and the transformation of their reality.

You have published several books and participated in a play. What other projects do you have in the works now?

We are working on new projects. We will publish them soon, along with the magnificent illustrator MarIona Brunet has written a children's story about peace entitled "The Song of Salam." This tale, featuring a little bird that symbolizes peace, seeks to convey values ​​of hope and coexistence, inviting children to imagine a future filled with harmony.

What advice or life lessons would you like to share with other young women?

As an agent of peace, I humbly believe that it is essential to trust in our abilities, learn from each experience and face challenges with perseverance. Valuing our voice and supporting other women strengthens us to build a more just and peaceful future. I hope that these tips inspire you to move forward with hope and harmony.

Nadia recommends us…

A plate:

Qabili Palau, a typical dish from my beloved Afghanistan

A movie:

Dhak Dhak (2023), directed by Tarun Dudej

A music:

Naghma Khuwanzai https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T4kw5WxrJJc

Follow Nadia:

Instagram

Interview conducted by Gaëlle Patin Laloy, head of the Interculturality Program of Casa Asia in March 2025. Contact: ppgad@pucrs.br

Mine Kawakami is a pianist, composer, cook, cartoonist, and world traveler. She writes scores as she would paint a picture. She has performed at Kiyomizu-dera, one of the World Heritage Sites in Kyoto, Japan, at the Córdoba, and the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. On February 11, he gave a piano recital at the Joan Miró Foundation to mark the opening of the Catalonia-Japan Year celebrations.

What is your history with the piano? When and how did you start?

In 1969, I was born and raised in an official residence of the Prefectural University of Arts, located in the heart of the Aichi Prefecture, to a family of painters. All the residents of that residence, located in a deep forest, were professors at the university, that is, artists of some discipline. Our neighbor was a pianist, and that is what led me to start playing the piano. Until high school, I grew up without being involved in major competitions or contests, freely enjoying the music my neighbor played and climbing on the sculptures that were everywhere. Later, with the desire to study piano more seriously, at the age of 18 I transferred to the National University of Music and Theater in Munich (Munich Hochschule für Musik und Theater). During my student years, I witnessed the intense changes that shook Germany, such as the fall of the Berlin Wall.

1969は画家の両親の元に生まれ育ちました。深い森の中にあった官舎の我が家の隣はピアニストでした。それが私がピアノを始めるきっかけとなりました。

高校になるまでは大きな競争やコンクールに巻き込まれることもなく森の中で伸び伸びと隣人の奏でる音楽を聴いたりそこら中においてある彫刻によじ登ったりしてのんびりと育ちました。

その後、本格的にピアノを学びたくて18歳でミュンヘン国立音楽大学へ行きました。在学中、ベルリンの壁が崩壊するなど、激動のドイツを体感しました。

 

What brought you to Spain?

The difficulty of playing Western music being of Eastern origin, the physical strain on my body and fingers due to more than eight hours of daily practice, the intense competition and pressure of concerts, as well as the impossibility of resting or feeling free… I began to wonder how I could improve my life without giving up the piano. I thought that in Spain I could find the answer, so I decided to travel there alone. I didn't know any Spanish and I didn't know anyone, but when I arrived, I tried a piano for the first time. today's menu for 600 pesetas. The first course was a paella brimming with seafood and unlimited red wine. At that moment, I decided to stay in Spain. I felt that, in a country with such a rich food culture, I could live playing the piano with my heart full of wealth and satisfaction.

西洋の音楽を東洋出身の自分が演奏する時の解釈の難しさ、一日8時間以上練習するので体や指への負担が大きく、競争や本番のプレッシャーは大きく、休むことも自由になることもできない生活をピアノを続けながらどうにか改善したいと思い始めていました。スペイン語へ行けば、その答えが見つかると思って、一人でスペインへ行きました。スペイン語も知り合いも全く皆無でMenu of the dayの最初の皿が魚介類が山盛りのったパエリアと飲み放題の赤ワインを見て、スペインに残ることを決めました。この豊かな食文化がある国なら、豊かな気持ちでピアノを弾いて暮らせると思ったからです。

 

Your relationship with music is very deep. What is the meaning of music for you?

It's food, it's air, it's wind. Something so close that I don't even notice its presence, but without which I couldn't live.

食事であり、空気であり、風であると思います。あることに気づかないほど身近で、なくなると生きていけないもの。

 What is your relationship with composition?

I don't consider myself a composer, but rather a performer. I used to play pieces composed by others, but over time I realized that I wanted to play only sounds that I completely agreed with, without wasting a single note. To achieve this, I ended up composing my own music, as this way I can only play the sounds that really convince me. That's why I only play my own music now.

以前は他の人が書いた曲も演奏していましたが、１００パーセント納得した音だけを、一音の無駄もなく結果的に自分で作った方が納得できる音だけを演奏できる事もあり今は自分が作った音楽のみを演奏するスタイルとなりました。

What is your inspiration when you create music?

Music transcends borders, time and language. It is not born in moments of happiness or joy, but in times of difficulty, loneliness, sadness, farewells or loss of loved ones. It is in these moments that inspiration comes. I have already composed close to 400 pieces, which makes me think that, without a doubt, I have had a life full of ups and downs.

音楽は国境も時空も言語も超越していると思います。幸せで嬉しい時に音楽は生まれてこなくて、苦しく寂しい時、悲しい時、別れた時、大切な人を失った時などにインスピレーションが降りてきます。すでに400曲近くあるので、よっぽど波瀾万丈な人生だったのか。

What inspires me are the phenomena of nature: the song of birds, the sound of wind and rain, light, the murmur of trees and the song of insects.

私にインスピレーションを与えるのは自然現象です。鳥の声、風や雨の音、光、木々のざわめき、虫の鳴き声です。

How is your creative process?

I choose a theme and walk endlessly through nature. In my mind, I create the music I want to compose, as if it were a painting or a film. That image, like a cloud, matures little by little, and at a certain moment, the music descends like rain in the form of piano notes. Then, I capture it in the score.

テーマを決めて、ひたすら自然の中を歩きます。頭の中で作りたい曲を創造して行きます。それはほとんど絵画や映画のような感じです。そのクラウドのようなイメージが熟成していって、ある瞬間になるとピアノの音としてまるで雨が降ってくるように降りてくるので、それを楽譜に音符として書き留めます。

You have lived in Cuba, how did it influence your musical path?

Life in Cuba, and especially the Cuban pianist I respect the most, Chucho Valdés, taught me something very important. It made me understand that the relationship between me and the piano must be free and full of love, that the piano is an extension of my own body. I also learned to enjoy and play music in any situation, regardless of the state of the piano or the environment (whether it is out of tune, broken, with broken keys or even without electricity). The essential thing is to maintain the ability to adapt and make music in any circumstance.

最も尊敬するキューバ人ピアニストChucho Valdesが私に非常に大事なことを教えてくれました.に溢れている関係であること。ピアノが体の一部であること。ピアノや周りの環境ががどんな状態でも（調律されていない、故障している、鍵盤が欠けている、停電している、などなど）、どんな状況でも楽しく遊んでしまえること、どんな状況でも臨機応変に音楽が奏でられる自分でいられること。

And your encounter with Spain?

Honestly, I don't even know why I like Spain so much. But the truth is that, from the first time I set foot in this country 30 years ago until today, I still love it without any change. During the pandemic, I couldn't leave Japan for a long time, and when I finally returned to Santiago after two and a half years, seeing the Galician land from the airplane window, I found myself crying with emotion. In this country, I am simply happy without depending on anyone. I am surrounded by immense inspiration, I can compose a lot of music, and I can also freely cook and enjoy delicious seafood. Is there any greater happiness than this?

スペインが好きな理由は正直私もわかりません。でも、初めてこの国を踏んだ30年前も今も、全く変わらずこの国を愛している自分がいます。コロナで長期間日本を出ることができず、2年半ぶりにサンチャゴに戻った時、ガリシアの大地を窓から見たときに嬉しくて涙が出てきた自分に驚いたほどです。この国にいると、私は誰に依存する事もなくシンプルに幸せで、たくさんのインスピレーションに包まれ、たくさん音楽が書ける、そして美味しい魚介類を遠慮なく料理して食べられる、これ以上の幸せがあるでしょうか。

What is your relationship with traditional Japanese music?

Unfortunately, in Japanese school education, we are only taught Western music, such as Mozart, and we are not educated in traditional Japanese music. I did not have the opportunity to learn it either; I only studied Western music. (Note: traditional Japanese music is taught more in school education these days.) However, as I grew older, I realized that, although I had never formally learned it, the way of handling silences and constructing music, something that does not exist in Western music, was becoming more and more present in my compositions. I could not help but notice this influence, and over time, I came to the conclusion that this is the Japanese musical sensibility that I have inherited from my ancestors, something that is in my DNA. That is why, after 50 years of playing the piano, I now find myself performing concerts in temples and shrines in Japan. This is because when I play in these spaces, I feel that I am more natural and free than anywhere else. Although I use the piano as an instrument, I feel that the music I compose has a deeply traditional Japanese resonance.

Mozartなどの西洋音楽ばかりを教えて、日本の伝統音楽を教えてくれません。私も、西洋音楽しか学ぶ機会を得られませんでした。ところが、年を重ねるにつれて習っていないのに、西洋音楽には存在しない「間」の取り方、曲の作り方がどんどん色濃くなっている事に私は気づかずにはいられません。これは、私のDNAの中に入っている祖先から受け継いだ日本の音楽の感性だと最近強く思うようになりました。なので、５０年間ピアノを弾き続けてきた今になって、日本の寺や神社でコンサートをするようになりました。それは、日本の寺社で演奏をすると自分が最も自然で自由にいられる事を感じるからです。ピアノという楽器を使用していますが、私が作曲する音楽は非常に伝統的な日本の響きを持っていると感じています。

Has being a woman influenced your musical career?

My father, who was a painter and for many years held the positions of rector of the art university and director of the national museum, used to tell me, "I'm glad you were born a woman, because you can do whatever you want freely. Japanese men have too many obligations and worries about appearances, and they can't live with such freedom." Although I still don't fully understand what he meant, it's true that perhaps I do live freely and do what I love.

画家であり、芸大の学長や国立美術館の館長を長年勤めた父が「お前は女に生まれてよかったな、好きなことを何でも自由にできる。日本の男は世間体と約束が多すぎてなかなか自由に生きれない」と言っていました。私はその意味がいまだによくわかりませんが、確かに私は自由に好き勝手に生きているかもしれません。

In your interventions during the concert at the Miró Foundation, it is understood that you establish a very strong relationship between music, landscapes, and emotions.

My parents are painters and, perhaps because of that, because I also like to paint, music and painting are closely related in my life. Sometimes, even in an abstract painting, you can hear landscapes and emotions. I love works, both in painting and music, that manage to convey that. Sometimes my scores are like paintings, and I think that few people would be able to play a piano with only the score I have created, since sometimes they look more like an abstract painting. Of course, I publish the scores in a conventional format, with a staff, so that anyone can play them.

私の両親が画家で、私自身絵を描くことが好きだからか、音楽と絵画は私の中では切り離せない関係です。抽象的でも絵画の中から風景やemotionsが聞こえてくる事があります。それが聞こえてくるような作品が私は絵でも音楽でも大好きです。私の楽譜は絵だったりする事も少なくなく、私が作った本当の楽譜（まるで抽象絵画）を見てピアノが弾ける人はまずいないと思います。もちろん、誰もが弾けるように五線譜の楽譜に直したものを出版していますが。

We asked Mine for an anecdote about her musical career and she told us 8 anecdotes…

Not just one, I have countless anecdotes.

-A bat came out of the piano in Cuba while I was playing.

-My university students in Cuba taught me how to dance salsa and fish.

-I played in the peace of the forests and with the wind and the insects in such beautiful places as the Kiyomizu temple and the Kasuga shrine, which have a thousand years of history.

-The words of Chucho Valdés that made me so happy: “We were born into this world to make people happy through music, as a pact with God.”

-The sound of the beautiful wind in a city at 4000 meters above sea level in Bolivia.

-The Amazon jungle, where frogs sang and fireflies flew, creating a natural symphony.

-While I was playing in the mountains of Colombia with the indigenous people, it started to rain.

-My piano in the Santiago Cathedral resonated throughout the building, sounding as if it were raining from above…

All this is recorded in my music.

一つではなく数えきれないほど。キューバでピアノからコウモリが出てきたこと。キューバの大学の教え子達にSalsaの踊り方と釣りのしかたを教えてもらったこと。1000年の歴史をもつ美しい清水Chucho Valdesに「私たちはピアノを奏で音楽で人を幸せにすることを神様と約束してこの世に生まれてきた同志だ」と言ってもらえたこと、標高4000メートルのボリビアの街で出会った美しい風の音、アマゾン川で蛙が合唱して蛍が飛び交う交響曲のようなジャングル、コロンビアの先住民と山の中で演奏していたら雨が降ってきたこと、サンチャゴ大聖堂で奏でたピアノが大聖堂中をこだまして、まるで上から降ってくるように聞こえてきたこと。。この全てが私の音楽の中に刻み込まれています。

You travel a lot between Spain and Japan, how do you manage this constant change? How do you live there and here?

Japan and Spain, this is the perfect balance I have been able to find over the years. Now I travel between the two countries every three months. I spend three months in Japan, working tirelessly as if I were Japanese, meeting many people, eating delicious sushi, traveling all over Japan and working in television, radio, theater and film. When I return to Santiago, I go to the market every day to buy fish, I cook, I go for walks and I compose music without seeing almost anyone. Japan and Spain are the two important poles for me, and I feel that thanks to these two places I can continue living.

日本とスペイン、これが長年かけて私が見つけることのできた最高のバランスです。今は３ヶ月ごとに行き来しています。３ヶ月間日本で日本人のように息をつく間も無く仕事をしまくってたくさんの人に会い美味しいお寿司をいっぱい食べて日本中を飛び回ってテレビやラジオ、舞台や映画などの仕事をします。サンチャゴに帰ると、毎日市場に行って魚を買ってお料理をして散歩をしてほとんど人に会うこともなく作曲をする。日本とスペインが私にとっては重要な2つの極で、この二つがあるからこそ私は生きていられると感じています。

You can also read that you are a cook, a traveler, a cartoonist…

Cooking and composing music go hand in hand. When I find myself stuck on composing, I go to the kitchen. While chopping carrots, a new melody pops into my mind, I go to the piano, and when I feel tired of playing, I go back to the kitchen to prepare fish. While cooking the fish, harmonies appear that I hadn’t thought of before. Then I go back to the piano… All day long I move between these two activities and this is how my compositions are created. Often, when midnight comes, I have a huge amount of food prepared and I wonder if anyone will come to eat the food alone.

料理と作曲はセットです。作曲に行き詰まるとキッチンに行く。人参を切っているうちに新たなメロディが思い浮かぶ、ピアノの前にいく、ピアノに疲れるとキッチンに行って魚を捌く。魚の焼いていると思いつかなかったハーモニーが浮かび上がる。ピアノの前に戻る。。一日中この二つを行き来して曲ができています。深夜になると膨大な料理ができてしまって、誰か料理だけ食べにきてくれないかと思うこともよくあります。

Do you want to share a dream? Your dream? 

Two years ago, my beloved father passed away after a long period of being unable to communicate. I myself, through illness, experienced a moment when I lost consciousness, but I was able to realize that my sense of hearing was still functioning, even when my body was no longer responding. Through this very intense experience, I realized that the sense of hearing, although not perceptible to the naked eye, is very finely tuned in our body, and that even in states of unconsciousness, as they say, we are very likely to be able to hear clearly. During a surgery where I was under general anesthesia, my body was not moving at all, but I was able to hear my music thanks to the surgeon leaving it playing. It was at that moment that I felt that the sound I heard was the only thread of connection between my body and the outside world, and that thread had the ability to embrace, support, and bring happiness. My dream is to create music of that nature, to bring it to people who are now alone and suffering, and to be able to accompany them, help them and give them strength, even if just a little.

2態を保ったのち他界しました。私もまた病を通して、意識を失った時に聴覚だけはしばらく生きているという体験をしました。この強烈な体験を通して私は、人の聴覚というのは見た目にはわからなくても実は体の中では研ぎ澄まされていて、意識不明状態と言われている時も耳だけは鮮明に聞こえている可能性が高いと確信しました。全身麻酔を受けている間、体は全く動かないのに聴こえ続ける私のCDをかけ続けてくれた執刀医のおかげで私は耳から聞こえてくる音は肉体と外の世界をつなげる唯一の救いの糸になるのではないかと感じました。そしてその糸は、その人を抱きしめ、支え、幸せにできる力があると確信しました。私の夢は、そのような音楽を作って、今元に届け、少しでも寄り添い、力になれることができるようになることです。

What would you like to share with other young women? Any life advice?

I believe that women possess an amazing vitality and ability to adapt to their environment, something that has become clear to me every time I have traveled the world and met women from different backgrounds and cultures. Women have an amazing ability to quickly integrate into the environment they are presented with, learning the language and customs, and using only what is at their disposal to find happiness and create their own home. Many of the coolest people I have met have been women.

So I think that if you can accept each moment as it is, without getting carried away by the past or the future, and enjoy what is in front of you without forgetting to enjoy the now, life will be filled with inspiration and become enormously rich.

女性には驚くような生命力と環境への適応力が宿っていると、世界中を旅してあらゆる人種や民族の女性に出会うたびに共通して思います。

目の前に与えられた環境にびっくりするようなアイデアで溶け込みあっという間に言葉や風習を習得し身の回りにあるものだけで幸せを掴み自分のHog arを作ることができる天才の多くが女性でした。

なので、あるがままの自分で一瞬一瞬を受け入れ、未来や過去に振り回されず、今目の前にあるものを楽しむことさえ忘れなければ、あなたの人生はインスピレーションで溢れた非常に豊かなものになるのだと思っています。

Mine recommends…

A plate:

Depending on the place and the time, that dish can change completely, but what I recommend most now, in February, while I am in Santiago, is the Cocido de Lalín.

場所と時期によってその一皿は全く変わりますが、2月の今サンチャゴにいる私が一番おすすめするのはLalínのCooked。

A painter:

 After all, Joan Miró.

By Joan Miró.

A city:

Santiago de Compostela

A movie:

The one I liked the most recently was "Ugetsu Monogatari" (Tales of the Pale Moon).

最近見てよかったのは「雨月物語」

A book:

The Secret Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben (Author)

A music:

The Pope's Mass Marzeal (in Latin: Missa Papae Marcelli) is a mass by Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina.

Follow Mine Kawakami:

Instagram

www.minekawakami.com/

At the end of 2021, Sara Qiu left her job at a technology company to embark on her own journey, "Journey from the Road. From Spain to China, towards my roots." A little over two years, a little over 16,000 km and 15 countries. By bicycle.

Zaragoza-Qingtian in figures, what has it been?

A little over two years, a little over 16.000 km and 15 countries by bike.

How did the idea… or the need come about?

I already really liked travelling. I am 33 years old now, but when I was 23 I started travelling alone as a backpacker, by plane. I had been travelling like this for quite a few years every time I had holidays, but during COVID, since the borders were closed, I had to think of another way of travelling, not so much about the destination because the borders were closed, but about the way of travelling. I went on my first bike trip in October 2020, and the following year, in 2021, I did several stages of the GR 11. It is a trekking route, I spent 9 days walking through the Pyrenees. That same year I did the Camino Primitivo. These experiences had a big impact on me because they are a totally different way of travelling. The important thing is not the destination, but the process: living day by day, making an effort and opening yourself up to any possibility along the way, to some encounter, to some cool conversation and to enjoying the landscapes. The COVID pandemic was for many of us like a period of reflection. For a year now I had been very restless and needed a change. I knew I didn't want to work in the private sector for the rest of my life. I needed to find some purpose that would fulfill me. I needed to find a solution or another path in life. I was already following several travelers, both men and women. I also liked to travel and I said, "Well, look, I'm going."

When did you make the decision to embark on this journey?

It was in September 2021 when I made the decision, but I decided to work a few more months to continue saving money and at the end of December 2021 I left the company to prepare for the trip, start making videos on YouTube, and start training physically.

So, did you physically give yourself away before you left?

Yes, a little bit, but you never know exactly how much training you need to do something like that, but I knew that physically it would be good for me. I got the bike at the beginning of February. So I did about 70 km, more or less what I was going to do on a daily basis and I gradually added more weight to adapt.  Then, in March, I went on an 11-day trip with the bike and all the equipment I was going to take, as a test. The first few days you have to adapt physically, but everything went well. I left on April 4. 

Apart from physical training, you have travelled through countries you didn't know before. Have you also prepared yourself in this regard? At an administrative level, for example? 

I've been looking into it more or less. The good thing is that the Spanish passport is quite powerful and you don't really need a visa for almost any country now, not even for China. Back then, when I left, China was still closed, but at first I had no idea what was going to happen in China. That came later. 

By having China as your destination, you link your trip to issues of identity and family, but at the beginning, wasn't that the plan?

Yes… Qingtian is my family’s village, but at the beginning it had nothing to do with it. I had no idea that I was going to go through China. I was going in the direction of Asia and whatever came up. I could have taken a plane from Spain to Turkey, and from there, explored by bike. But it was better to start from home, going through countries that I was more familiar with. It was going to serve as training for me to adapt to the bike and in the end it was a very good learning experience. Because the first month had nothing to do with the third, or the fourth, or the fifth, and little by little the trip took shape. At the beginning I was not into the subject of families, that came later.

What does “There was no question of families” mean? Weren’t you sleeping with local families?

At first, very little. My idea was to camp and use the “Warm Showers” ​​platform, a kind of “couchsurfing”, but for people who travel by bike. There is a big community, in France there were many, but the further east you go you find less. On the platform you have a profile and people can get to know you before, but with the families in the villages, they don’t know you at all, it’s like they’re inviting a stranger, but in the end people do it and it’s very natural. In today’s society it’s something that people don’t dare to do anymore because they’re afraid. People are very shocked and it’s a shame. Well, I like to share this.

But is it a question of culture or circumstance?

At first I asked families if they knew of any places to camp, and sometimes I ended up in their garden. In the south of France I remember an older couple who let me camp in their garden, but little by little we got to know each other better, they invited me to have a drink at their house and then I stayed. Things like that happened. Maybe it's easier in the villages.

You mentioned that you had saved money, but you didn't have any sponsors?

I haven't had any, but at the beginning my idea was to look for sponsors. I knew that starting from scratch was going to be difficult. I waited for my social networks to grow a bit and when I was in Turkey I started looking, but nothing was formalized. I thought it would be easier. I contacted the bike brand, but I don't know who else to ask for sponsorship. There is no school that prepares you for this.

What have been the reactions of your family and friends? Has the fact that you are a woman and are embarking on this journey alone influenced their reactions?

When I was planning this trip, I never thought that being a woman would make it more or less difficult for me. For my parents, maybe it was. They did emigrate to Spain, but apart from that, they haven't travelled much either. They hear what is said in the media and it is often spoken of in a negative way. They were indeed afraid, and even more so for being a woman, not only for riding a bike, but for being a woman as well. And one of the questions they ask me most often during the trip is, hey, aren't you afraid? It's the first reaction, but sometimes I say to the families who host me, "Hey, aren't you afraid, because I'm a stranger?" 

Have you ever felt in danger?

I have had some sexual advances, yes, a couple of times, but as soon as I said I was going to call the police, they left. They were like little scares. You have to be alert, though.

How did you communicate with people? Did you always find a common language?

Well, many times there was no common language, especially in rural areas, with older people, but we used the translator or sometimes they put me in contact with a relative of theirs who knew English.

Have you also been able to participate in some weddings or village festivals?

Yes, yes, you can see it. I have been to several weddings in China as well. In Uzbekistan as well, I was very surprised, the music was at full blast and everyone was dancing, the older people, the children, and they danced very well.

And now, after so much adventure, what are your plans?

Well, I don't know. I'll have to see, but after spending more than two years moving around as I have been doing, I feel like having a bit of stability. I know more or less where I want to focus my efforts. I do want to continue doing things related to travel, like giving a talk or writing a book, but I need to take a break to process everything. As for my professional career, I'd like to focus on the social sphere, but I don't know how. I have to find out because it's also new for me.

If I ask you for 5 words that represent the challenge you have faced, which ones would you choose?

Confidence. Because I had to have confidence and people had to have confidence in me.

Courage, Courage is also necessary, especially at the beginning. Because you have no idea what it will be like. So you do need that push, that courage, at the beginning to make the decision.

Adaptation. I think that every day of the trip is different and you have to be open and adapt. You don't know where you're going to sleep, you don't know where you're going to stop to eat, you don't know who you're going to meet.

Flexibility. It has a bit to do with adaptation, because in the end you change countries and cultures and you have to be flexible to adapt.

4 words, that's it.

What has been the most difficult thing about the whole trip?

The physical aspect, which at first was like a tougher challenge than the mental aspect, then you also realise that the mental part is fundamental, that is, no matter how strong or athletic you are, that is only a small part. In the end you have to have that motivation to continue this journey. And I was very clear about it, at least until China, until I crossed the Chinese border and then from China it became a bit more complicated. When I crossed Xinjiang for example, it is a more sensitive region and everything was stricter. And having a Spanish passport and speaking Chinese creates confusion. I had doubts about whether I had done the right thing by going to China by bicycle.

How did you solve it in the end?

I had to adapt. And there was a lot of desert to cycle through, so I decided to go to other regions and skip Xinjiang. Also, in China it was quite difficult for me to find families. For me, ending up in a hostel alone didn't make sense. What interests me in traveling is having exchanges with people. In China I did meet 4-5 families with whom I have very good memories, but it was 7 months in China in total and there were many moments of loneliness.

Did you want to reach Qingtian?

Yes, I wanted to end up in Qingtian, I wanted to spend the New Year there with my parents and I wanted to end the trip like that. And it was very nice, it was worth it. Now I miss speaking Chinese on a daily basis.

And what has surprised you the most along the way?

The hospitality of the people. I didn't expect so much hospitality. In the end you see it as something natural. Meeting the families also helps you break down prejudices, and sharing my experience on my social networks helps break down everyone's prejudices because in the end we all have prejudices. That's why it was important for me to share everything on my social networks.

Where would you like to return with more time?

Turkey, for example, is the country that has impressed me the most for its hospitality, again. I spent four and a half months with families and travelling. One fun thing was staying with a Turkish family to pick olives with them.

On a personal level, has it helped you to know yourself better?

Yes, I know myself better, and you also face situations that you might never have experienced in a more standard environment. You learn to adapt. There are many things that you cannot control. In the end, on a bicycle, you have to live day by day. When I arrived in Qingtian, everyone in the village was very proud and they considered me a hero, but I wasn't, because if there hadn't been all these families, I wouldn't have finished the trip. I'm clear about that. In the end, distances are bridged by people.

The interview will be published in the framework of 8M, do you want to share a message for other young women?

Well, they should identify their fears and dare to face them, because that is how you learn the most. Now I can say that I had few fears, but I did have some because when I didn't know where I was going to sleep and I had to ask people, it wasn't easy and I had to overcome my fears. I was very embarrassed to ask for help, but I forced myself. I remember that, in Italy, in the third month, I forced myself to ask 10 people, and that experience left a mark on me for the rest of the trip...

 

Sara Qiu recommends…

A landscape:

For me, the Pamir Highway from Kyrgyzstan.

Follow Sara Qiu

www.instagram.com/journeyfromtheroad

Interview conducted by Gaëlle Patin Laloy, head of the Diversity and Interculturality Program at Casa Asia February 17, 2025. Contact: ppgad@pucrs.br

Rubia Naz Ali Kousar is 25 years old. She was born in Gujrat, Punjab, Pakistan, and arrived in Barcelona at the age of 6. She recently graduated with a Master's degree in Law and Procurement from the UAB and is deeply involved in educational and social projects with the Pakistani community. She has been selected as a Youth Leader in the Generation Europe-The Academy program.

Can you tell us about your background?

I'm 25 years old, of Pakistani origin, and I've grown up in Montcada i Reixac all my life. I've just completed a Master's degree in Law and Procurement at the Autonomous University of Barcelona. I'm a political scientist and lawyer by training from the same university.

You are also involved in educational and social projects with the Pakistani community…

Yes, for some time now, I've been involved in my own community, the Pakistani community, especially with the subgroup of Pakistani women. As a woman, a migrant, and a Muslim, I believe I better understand their journey through this city, as well as the challenges they face every day, whether in academia, work, or the community. youth leader, for the project Generation Europe – The academyI have had the pleasure of working on two three-year editions with young people of diverse nationalities and backgrounds, focusing on the issue of racism within educational settings and using Barcelona's Raval neighborhood as a meeting point and inspiration. I am also a spokesperson for the ECOP Association (Catalan Students of Pakistani Origin), which has been working to close the gap in higher education for young people in the community and offers strategies and solutions, such as the current project of remedial classes in the Besos neighborhood.

Were you born in Pakistan? How did you arrive in Spain?

I was born in Gujrat, a city in Punjab, of which I remember little, as I was there for no more than 6 springs, but from which I have nourished myself strongly.
My arrival in this country wasn't a personal decision, but it was the decision that most defined my identity. Perhaps today I could decide for the future where to live (within my means and opportunities), but at that moment, it was a decision my parents made. It wasn't voluntary or even consulted. I arrived in Spain in 2006 with my family through family reunification. We were finally reunited with my father, who had been living in Europe for years.
When I arrived here, I started first grade, and I don't remember how I learned the language, but it was pretty fast. While I got to know my classmates, I improved my vocabulary. My family came here because of their strong connection to the world of education. My parents were both teachers and have always had a special interest in our schooling. In fact, I started at the school my parents had founded in Gujrat, where my siblings were already studying. I think it's unique to be able to attend the school your parents founded. However, seeing that they couldn't guarantee schooling at all levels, they made the decision to embark on the migratory journey.

Perhaps my personal journey and that of my siblings in the educational field answers any migrant parent's doubt about whether "crossing the pond" was a good decision or not. Despite the economic challenges and those arising from migration, they have been able to guide us through a system they themselves were unfamiliar with. As the youngest (in a family with one sister and two brothers), I have had the privilege of being the one with the most information available to make decisions.

What cities have you lived in?

I currently live in Rotterdam, I am doing an internship in a law firm: De la Fuente Lawyer. I've discovered the diversity and interculturality of this city; in general, society here is quite different. I've also lived in Gujrat and Barcelona.

What was it like growing up between two cultures? What was the biggest challenge?

Growing up between two cultures is unique and strongly shapes our identity, as well as our aspirations and interests. In the end, it's not so much the cities themselves, but the values ​​they exude, the language spoken, the words and their meanings, and the gestures learned. Unwittingly, I've cultivated both within me, and I couldn't say which has grown more. In fact, I think that, as a child of migration, I live in a third city, which I enter when I'm in community spaces. This is perhaps the one that presents me with the fewest challenges and where I see more identities similar to mine, confused and, at times, bewildered by all those existential thoughts about identity, but above all, reunited, recognized, and supported.

However, the biggest challenge has perhaps been communication, and despite not having a language barrier, I have realized that even speaking the same language, I sometimes have to build bridges so that the cities that live within me can be visited and understood.

Can you explain more details about the impact of the project? Generation Europe – The academy?

The youth project has been very interesting and has had an impact on both me and the participants. Many of the young Pakistani women who participated have gained more confidence, both for themselves and their families, to travel and participate in an exchange (for example, in Germany or Poland) thanks to having a woman from the community in a mentor/leader role. For many of them, it has been a unique experience because their families have also been able to experience the project and, in some cases, have even been able to participate in some of the activities proposed by the young people.

I never thought that taking extra time away from my studies and "formal" work, my involvement in a project like this could be so beneficial for these young women, for example, helping to delve deeper into work-related issues, such as racism within the academic institution (from teachers to students).
Also, regarding this project's network, the need to consider diversity and the inclusion of different social groups has been discussed on several occasions, not only at the level of youth participation but also at the structural level in the different stages of the project itself, that is, in leadership or coordination roles, which would facilitate greater inclusion.

I also want to highlight another project I was recently involved in, with my testimony about the participation of families from the Pakistani community and their involvement in schools as active agents in the educational community. The focus was on the structural and social barriers that hinder their participation due to their racialized status.

What woman (or women) has been your greatest inspiration?

I think the woman who inspires me is my mother. I've learned from her everything I know about life, personal autonomy, and dedication to work. I'd also like to mention Asma Jahangir in her professional life, for being an eminent defender of human rights and the rights of women and minorities in Pakistan and for being the first woman to create a law firm led solely by women in Pakistan, all while maintaining her passion for activism and social development.

What has been the most difficult challenge you've faced and how did you overcome it?

During one of the international exchanges where I led a group of young people, one of the participants in my group had severe mental health issues and suicidal thoughts. The other leaders decided the wisest course of action was to remove her from the group and send her home. In a conversation with her, I understood that her parents or anyone else wouldn't be at home and that these thoughts could lead to suicide, but allowing her to stay would be just as dangerous and I would be responsible for it.

I decided to advocate for her to stay. First, because I could never forgive myself for her absence and what might happen if I sent her home, and second, because it was against her will. Therefore, I decided to visit her emergency psychiatrist, and together with him, we determined that it was important for her to remain part of the group and complete her exchange, taking the medication she needed. That's how it was, and today she continues to actively participate in the project and is in the process of healing her mental health.

For you, what is the main challenge we face as a society today?

One of the biggest challenges is individualism and the latent misinformation about certain social and religious groups and minorities. I think, as the saying goes, "talking helps us understand each other," and that's what we're missing: real, close, and stereotype-free communication.

What makes you happiest?

Spend time learning or reading about something you weren't familiar with or delve deeper into topics you already know.

What dreams do you have?

Maybe my dream isn't a single one or very clear one, but I want to dedicate myself to law and, through my training in that field, be able to contribute to improving the environment in which I'm growing up.

Rubia recommends…

To a singer: Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

Follow Rubia on social media:

LinkedIn

Interview conducted for 8M 2025. More information: ppgad@pucrs.br

Sithy Saem Chhon was born in rural Cambodia and moved to the capital to study business management. As a woman, her family and the people in her village didn't understand why she wanted to study. She fought to finish her studies and became an example for the entire village. She came to Barcelona through an NGO for health reasons following a kidney transplant.

Can you introduce yourself and explain your personal and professional background?

I'm Sithy Saem Chhon, and I was born in Cambodia, where I lived until I was 25. I grew up in a rural area until I moved to the capital to study business management at university and work. I was a very independent and entrepreneurial person.

I came to Barcelona through an NGO to work, receive hemodialysis treatment, and undergo a kidney transplant. They kept me here because I needed health checks that aren't possible in Cambodia. My health is better, but I'll always have to take care of myself.

I first lived in Badalona and Barcelona. I also lived in Caldas de Montbui, where I have good friends whom I continue to visit. I love going there because it's a more rural setting and reminds me of my family and my home country. I like seeing the countryside, growing vegetables, walking in quiet spaces, enjoying nature, and so on.

Do you work in cooperation?

I've been working for years at Global Humanitaria, an NGO in Barcelona, ​​where I'm in charge of project management and especially the sponsorship program. I want to continue training in this field to improve my professional skills. I also love languages. I took Spanish classes for a year, but due to my health, despite being very sociable, I couldn't attend a language school. Instead, I took private lessons. A few years later, I studied Catalan and French, and I'm still learning.

I have also worked as a mediator and translator for the families of Cambodian children who come for oncological treatments in hospitals in Barcelona, ​​as well as giving Cambodian language classes and doing some educational workshops in schools and with the Bamboo School, an intercultural and inclusive education program of Casa AsiaI also lead Cambodian cooking workshops in community centers and through Espai Avinyó.

How was your adaptation in Catalonia? 

At first, it was very difficult: a new country, a very different culture, I didn't know the language, everything was very different from my home country, I was alone and had serious health problems, but little by little, I adapted to the changes. I wanted to recover well and did everything I could to adapt to my new reality. I was inspired by the people around me, their way of living, thinking, and speaking, and I learned about their daily lifestyles.

The hardest part was adapting to the Spanish way of life. For example, Cambodians speak in low voices and do things in silence. At first, I was scared because people here speak loudly and make a lot of noise. In Cambodia, for example, we close doors carefully, quietly. If someone makes noise, we think they're really angry. So, at first, I thought people were angry with me, and every time we talked in a group, I had to shout to be able to say things and be heard. In Cambodia, people are very diplomatic and always measure their words, but here they aren't; people speak directly and say what they feel.

And now, is it easier?

I've been here for 17 years now, and I can say I'm perfectly fine. Although I'm still struggling to master the language, I try my best to speak Spanish and Catalan. I'm a resilient, cheerful, and optimistic person. I greet people with two kisses on the cheeks, but in Cambodia we greet each other with our hands. In Cambodia, people don't usually express their emotions outwardly.

I am a resilient, cheerful, and optimistic person, and this has helped me make friends, get involved in activities, and stay active.

You have participated in several programs Casa AsiaCan you share your experience with us?

I have participated in several programs and activities of Casa AsiaFirst, there was the Intercultural Forum Theater, which helped me learn about other cultures, broaden my perspective, and make friends with people like me who had emigrated here and with whom we shared experiences, hopes, expectations, and difficulties. I understood what it means to be oppressed and what racism and discrimination entail, and I gained the tools to transform them. I lost my fear of public speaking, and there I met my husband and some of my best friends.

Later, I joined the Barcelona Choral Asia. Music helps me lift my mood, reduce stress, and make new friends. I participated in the Bamboo School, which allowed me to share my creative craftsmanship and knowledge of Cambodian society and culture with primary and secondary school students.

You've also organized events with the Cambodian community in Europe...

I organized the Cambodian New Year Festival in Girona, which attracted more than 200 people. In Santa Coloma de Gramenet, I also coordinated several exhibitions and storytelling sessions to promote Cambodian culture.

What is the ecofeminist theater project you're collaborating on?

In recent years, I have returned to the Theater of the Oppressed, which has provided me with so much, this time to reflect on and give visibility to Ecofeminism in the Global South, showcasing women's social struggle against institutional and colonial discrimination and femicide. It's about denouncing and preventing gender-based violence.

Are you in touch with your family in Cambodia?

Yes, I keep in touch with my family and friends through social media.

I live with my husband in Barcelona, ​​and at the moment my parents are living with my younger sister in France.

In Cambodia I have my brother and his wife who have 2 children and all the family on my mother's and father's side are in Cambodia.

What is the situation of women in Cambodia?

Cambodian women represent 51 percent of the country's population, yet their equal participation in social and economic life is limited. Today, many more women are striving to demonstrate their great potential to help boost Cambodia's economic and social sectors.

There are increasingly more women leading companies. However, inequality is most noticeable in rural areas. The patriarchal mentality is more deeply rooted.

If the school is far away, the sons are sent home earlier, while the girls stay home. This has a significant impact on women's access to the labor market.

Educational inequality is very evident. Around 25% of women are illiterate, compared to 15% of men.

Are there any Cambodian associations in Spain?

Not in Spain, but there are some in France and Germany, where there are more people from Cambodia. There is no Cambodian embassy or consulate in Spain, and there are no consulates in Spain. This is why it's difficult for Cambodians to come here.

This interview is part of International Women's Day. What message would you like to share with other women? 

In Cambodia, when I wanted to study at university, my family and my people questioned me, asking me why I wanted to study. Being a woman, they didn't understand, since there, the main role of women is still taking care of the family. In the end, I fought to finish my university studies and found a good job to set an example for my people, and I'm proud of myself.

No matter where we are, what nationality or social class we belong to, women face similar problems. Our rights remain limited. There is inequality in the labor market, and we continue to struggle with gender-based violence. In any situation we find ourselves in, we must trust in our strength, never lose hope, and fight together. Because we are the mothers of the world.

Sithy recommends us…

Amŏk Trei អាម៉ុកត្រី, a traditional Cambodian dish of steamed fish in banana leaves with a coconut milk and spice sauce.

Follow Sithy on Instagram @sithy_cambodian_food

Interview conducted by Imma Llort and Gaëlle Patin Laloy, respectively responsible for the Bamboo School and the Interculturality Program of Casa Asia for International Women's Day 2025. Contact: ppgad@pucrs.br

Born in Punjab, India, to a family of the "Chamar" or "Dalit" caste, Sonia Nar Devi is a nurse, midwife, and cultural mediator. She works at the Hospital Clínic and teaches at the Higher School of Nursing at the Hospital del Mar (UPF).

Can you introduce yourself and explain your personal and professional background?

I am a nurse, midwife, and cultural mediator. I work both in the healthcare field, at the Casa de la Maternidad (Maternity Home) of the Hospital Clínic de Barcelona, ​​and in teaching, teaching a subject at the School of Nursing of the Hospital del Mar (UPF).

My story doesn't begin with my migration. It begins long before, with everything that was already written for me, before I could even decide.

I was born in Punjab, India, to a family of the Chamar or Dalit caste. There, caste doesn't need to be mentioned because it's everywhere. It's perceived in the looks and the silences, in who can speak and who must remain silent. It's in the language, in the education, in the food you can or can't eat, in the faith you profess, and in the religion that defines you even before you can choose. You don't need to be told that you don't belong; you learn it from childhood. But no one talks about it, because for the upper castes, the lower castes don't exist. And if they do exist, it's because they did something to deserve it. My parents knew this because they had grown up in a place where doors were always closed to them. Getting out of there wasn't just a desire, it was a necessity.

When did your family migrate?

My father was the first to arrive in Europe. He left when I was still a baby, and my mother also migrated, not to another country, but to an even more controlled life, under the rules of her in-laws and community, without her husband, but with a daughter. She didn't cross borders, but her world became smaller. Raising me alone in a society where a woman without a husband is questioned was her daily battle. Suddenly, her life no longer belonged to her. Her life was policed ​​by the rules of a patriarchal, casteist society, where everything was predetermined.

Years later, when we finally reunited with my father in Barcelona, ​​family and friends in India said goodbye to us as if we were going to paradise, and no one told us that migrating isn't just about moving, it's also about losing. It's about leaving behind what you know and understand, and feeling lost.

How have you built your training and professional career?

I trained at the University of Barcelona, ​​first in intercultural mediation, then in nursing, and later at Trinity College Dublin, specializing in midwifery. While working as a nurse and later as a midwife at the Rotunda Hospital in Dublin, I participated in academic and healthcare projects. I was part of a World Health Organization (WHO) project, advising on policies regarding the migration of healthcare professionals. Currently, I combine my healthcare and teaching work with collaborations in nursing and anthropology faculties, where I teach seminars on cultural practices and their impact on both the health of the Punjabi community and their relationship with healthcare professionals.

My experience as an intercultural mediator has shaped the way I practice my profession. Today, my work as a healthcare professional integrates this perspective, understanding cultural diversity not as a barrier, but as a key factor in care.

What has it been like growing up and living between two cultures?

Migration is almost never told from the perspective of those who experience it, but rather from the perspective of those who welcome us, measure us, and decide whether we have managed to fit in.

We left a system of exclusion, but we entered another. Here there are other hierarchies, silences, and ways of marking you as someone who doesn't quite fit in. The hardest part wasn't the gestures or the mistakes due to ignorance, but everything that is said and assumed. Being yelled at to go back to your country. Being bothered, disturbed, and superfluous by your presence. Being told that the educational level has dropped because there are too many immigrants, that we bring crime and insecurity to the city, that we take jobs away from locals, or that you live on welfare. All of this hurts and conditions you. You withdraw, you wonder if you're really occupying a space that doesn't belong to you. You try twice as hard to prove you deserve to be there, or you stop trying.

Can you tell us about your social theatre project with Punjabi women?

Through Casa AsiaI discovered training opportunities that allowed me to continue learning, but I also found an environment where I could reflect on my own identity and journey. I began participating in social theater workshops, realized the transformative power of theater, and trained as a facilitator with Xixa Teatre. I debuted with a group of Punjabi women. I didn't need to understand intersectionality theory in academic terms because they already embodied it, lived it, and explained it without theoretical concepts. Their stories reflected all these layers of inequality with a clarity that came from their experience, not theory. Through improvisation and play, we opened up space to talk about sexuality, feminism, health, racism, motherhood, and identity. Theater allowed these conversations to flow naturally, without impositions or outside discourses. In those workshops, their voices were present, and their experiences ceased to be individual and became collective narratives. A space was created where they could fearlessly express what, in other settings, was judged or minimized. Parenting and relationships with healthcare professionals were discussed. Many women felt their decisions as mothers were constantly questioned, as if they weren't valid. Inequalities were discussed, women shared their experiences and began to question dynamics within their own families, rethinking ideas they had always taken for granted.

How was your experience in Dublin?

Later, I migrated again. I went to Dublin. Unlike my father, I left with the privilege of being able to choose. I wasn't fleeing precariousness or the impossibility of building a future, but rather seeking to expand my opportunities, study for a master's degree, and work in a different environment. But migrating, even under those conditions, was a struggle. In my family, traveling as a single woman was still not entirely natural.

Distance allowed me to reflect on myself. On my own limits, on fear, on overcoming challenges. I faced everything that held me back, and in that process, I understood that effort isn't always individual. Although I had learned to navigate on my own, I also needed others. I'm grateful for having met people who believed in me, who supported me, who stood by me in my most vulnerable moments.

In that process, I realized how much my experience with social theater not only impacted the women I worked with, but also prepared me to better understand my own experiences. It allowed me to see how certain forms of exclusion don't need to be explicit to leave their mark and how constant questioning can lead a person to question their own reality.

Dublin made me more clearly identify exclusionary dynamics that I'd only guessed at before. I realized I'd experienced exclusion too, but when I mentioned it, I was met with doubt. That it was just my perception. That people didn't mean any harm. That they did it out of ignorance. I understood that, even if the exclusion was real, if I couldn't prove it, it wasn't valid. And if I'd never learned to point it out, it was because I'd never even had the chance to question it out loud.

I realized the extent to which I had learned to remain silent. Not by choice, but because I didn't have the tools to do otherwise. I grew up in an environment where exclusion wasn't verbalized, where it was assumed that's how things were. Where, instead of being outraged, we normalized it. Not because it didn't hurt, but because learning to endure in silence became part of our survival.

So seeing others put into words something I'd never known how to express was as disconcerting as it was revealing. When my Spanish classmates in Dublin felt excluded by the Irish, they verbalized it out loud, without questioning their perception, without fear of being challenged. I, on the other hand, had never had that leeway. I realized that, although we talked about exclusion, not everyone had the same right to point it out, nor were they given the same value when they did.

You're also a mother now. What's it like raising children in two cultures?

Raising children across cultures is like raising children without a clear map. You don't grow up with solid reference points, but rather with fragments of both worlds. We've been led to believe that certain traditional models aren't valid, that the right thing to do is to do it the way we do it here. But I see how practices that have existed for centuries in my culture, like co-sleeping or baby-led feeding, are now trending here.

What was once seen as backward is now considered respectful parenting. The difference is who does it. First, we endure judgment, and then we see how the same thing we were criticized for becomes the norm.

In India, raising children is a collective effort. The whole family participates, although the ultimate responsibility rests with the parents. There are rituals that reinforce these bonds from birth. At three months old, for example, babies receive bracelets with small bells, a gift from the mother's brother. In addition to the emotional connection, it's a sensory stimulus for the baby. But how many times have I had to translate in medical consultations, explaining that these bracelets are not "a danger"? Mothers would be scolded without anyone even asking why they were wearing them. As if anything that doesn't fit the Western worldview were automatically wrong.

How do you face the challenge of working while being a mother?

Work-life balance is a pending task for all mothers in this country, and I'm no exception. Sometimes I feel like I have to do everything right to prove I'm doing it right. If I work too much, I'm a bad mother. If I'm too present, I lack ambition. It's exhausting.

Plus, I'm still grieving for everything I've left behind. If I were to list them, I'd never finish. At least now we can talk about it, share it. My mother's generation didn't even have that option.

And then there are the things that only racialized women experience. When I go to the park, people doubt whether my child is my child because I have light skin. They ask me if I'm the babysitter. And even though I laugh, it weighs on me. It's not just the question, it's what it implies. That even in motherhood, you have to explain, justify, and prove. It's fascinating that, despite the fatigue, the judgments, and the renunciations, we keep going and find ways to reconcile, to raise, to grow, even if we don't always know how.

For you, what is the main shared challenge we face as a society today?

There are many challenges as a society, but the one that affects me most personally is the demonization of immigration. There's a narrative that blames us for everything: crime, insecurity, the economic crisis, etc. It demands that we provide explanations, that we constantly prove that we deserve to be here, as if our existence requires justification.

My father arrived in the 90s and has spent more of his life here than in India. He left his own path behind so we could have a better one. My brother and I are proof that the efforts of an entire generation bear fruit, even if they aren't immediately apparent. Today we are both healthcare workers, trained here, serving those here. But this is a long process. You can't judge immigration in the present without understanding what it represents in the future.

For women of color, everything comes even later. Whether due to the weight of culture or the current state of society, we face barriers that many white women here had to overcome just a few years ago. But carrying and beating ourselves up doesn't help; quite the opposite. Progress isn't made through judgment or blame, but through the possibility of real change, through spaces where there's room to talk, to question, to move forward without constantly feeling indebted.

Growing up in an environment that constantly questions you isn't easy. Fortunately, those who think this way are a minority, even if their voices seem louder. Along the way, I've met people who have been key to me: teachers, healthcare workers, friends who have trusted me when I myself was doubting myself. We can't carry the weight of prejudice alone; we have to find spaces where we can breathe, and if they don't exist, create them. Places where we can speak without fear, motivate each other, and support each other. Because we already have enough problems without having to carry this struggle every day. And yet, we face it, not to prove anything, but because we deserve better. As a society, we should aspire to much more.

This interview is part of International Women's Day. Do you have a message for them?

To young women, I would say, try it. Don't feel you have to choose between two worlds, don't think there's only one right path. Because growing up between two cultures isn't just about learning new codes; it's about living in ambiguity. There are days when you feel like you belong in both, and others when you don't quite fit into either. Without realizing it, you spend your life adjusting, explaining, justifying yourself.

When I was younger, I felt that pressure. Either I followed the path expected of me, or I broke away from everything. But over time, I understood that the important thing isn't fitting in, but rather creating my own space. Twenty years ago, I never would have imagined traveling alone, getting married after 20 to someone from here, that I could make my own decisions without feeling like I was betraying anyone. But getting here wasn't a leap; it was a process.

Education was my refuge, both for what I learned and for the people I met along the way. For my parents, studying wasn't an option; it was the only possible path. Education gave me leeway and support. Teachers who believed in me, friends who guided me, people who inadvertently showed me that there were more possibilities than I imagined.

Although not everything should depend on individual will. Society also has its share of responsibility. It's not enough to tell women to try if the environment in which they grow up doesn't give us the room to do so. Not everyone has the same opportunities, nor do they all start from the same place. And that's where we should aim for more as a society: to create spaces where growth doesn't involve giving up, justifying, or asking for permission.

Because what's the point of volunteering in other countries when the person next to you struggles to lend a hand? What's the point of going to India and saying you loved it, only to say you don't want to send your child to that school because there's too much immigration?

Do you have a personal habit that helps you in your daily life?

If I have one habit that accompanies me throughout my daily life, it's cooking. Even if it's just making chai. It's something that connects me to my mother, and she to hers, like a chain that keeps us united despite time and distance. It's the part of me that always belongs to my roots.

Cooking isn't just about preparing food; it's about giving yourself over to the task. It's a form of meditation—not the kind you practice in a quiet room, concentrating on your breathing, but the kind that arises when you put your full attention on what you're doing. On the smell of the spices, the changing colors, the sound of the sizzling oil.

I remember my mother giving me instructions not with exact times, but with sensory cues. She would say, "Add the next spices when the onion stops sizzling." It seemed strange to me, but now I understand. Cooking isn't just technique; it's intuition, memory, and presence.

And in those moments, when I cook, I'm not just following a recipe. I'm repeating gestures, words, and sounds that have been passed down from one generation to the next.

Sonia recommends us…a dish.

Favorite dishes, many. But chai is special. It's not just a drink; it's a moment, a gesture, a way of being present. When someone comes to your home, the first thing you offer is a hot chai. It's hospitality, it's pause, it's sharing.

What I like most is that chai is never exactly the same. It adapts to you, to how you feel. If you have a headache, a chai with ginger and clove. If your digestion is heavy, a little anise and thyme. It's not just a flavor, it's balance, it's intuition.

For me, having a chai is a small ritual. A moment of connection with my roots, with the gestures I learned from my mother, with the present.

Interview conducted by Imma Llort and Gaëlle Patin Laloy, respectively responsible for the Bamboo School and the Interculturality Program of Casa Asia in March 2025. Contact: ppgad@pucrs.br

Hanakito is a DJ living between Barcelona and Tokyo. She shares her personal and professional story as a woman, a Japanese woman, and a DJ. She also reflects on the different rhythms of both cities, Barcelona and Tokyo, and their musical influences.

How did you get to Barcelona?

I was born and raised in Tokyo. I arrived in Barcelona in 2017. Before that, I lived in Mexico. The reason I learned Spanish was because, when I was a high school student, I did an exchange program in Latin America. After that, I spent the first half of my twenties living in Latin America (I've lived in Mexico, Paraguay, and also on some Caribbean islands) and the United States. I moved to Barcelona because of my partner.

What is it like to live between Barcelona and Tokyo?

I'm currently based in Barcelona. I usually return to Tokyo once a year. Barcelona and Tokyo are cities with completely different rhythms. I grew up in a large metropolis, and for someone from Tokyo, Barcelona feels like a small town. The pace of life in Barcelona is much slower than in Tokyo; sometimes I find that very pleasant, but other times it leaves me feeling like something is missing. Conversely, when I return to Tokyo, I quickly adopt my "Tokyo version" and find myself living at a pace three times faster and busier than in Barcelona.

Ironically, that pace was one of the reasons I decided to leave Japan. Still, in Barcelona, ​​I sometimes get caught up in the feeling that I “should be doing something,” and having nothing to do can feel like a sin.

What exactly do you do?

Basically, I am a DJ and part-time I work as a translator and writer.

How did you get into the world of music?

My father played the piano, and my mother was into blues, jazz, and American rock, so my parents' influence has been very strong. I've been passionate about music since my early teens, although I've always been more into listening than playing. As a teenager, my dream was to be a music journalist, and I used to read and research music history and criticism as a hobby.

I started getting involved in the DJ world in my early twenties. At first, I organized my own events and helped with bookings of events. That's how I got into this world. I started playing hip-hop and R&B records and CDs at a music venue where I worked. My professional career as a DJ has really taken off over the past seven or eight years.

What kind of music do you play as a DJ?

The truth is, I'm still a beginner when it comes to music production. I'm currently in the studio with a friend, and we're planning to launch a record label, and together we're creating disco music.

My style as a DJ focuses on music houseMy roots come from hip hop and the music my mother listened to, like jazz and blues, so the core of my musical selection is heavily influenced by African American music. And as a DJ, I'm deeply influenced by the house from New York, Chicago and Detroit.

What do you feel when you DJ? Where does your inspiration come from?

My musical inspiration comes mainly from vinyl or sometimes from radio, streaming etc. but I especially enjoy making digging, That is, discovering music I'd never heard before. I learn a lot from those encounters, and the process of making it resonate, making groove With those new discoveries with the records I already have, it's very inspiring.

When a new one is born groove From that connection, that's where the true creative spark emerges. Learning and continuing to explore through music is a fundamental part of the process for building my DJ sets.

The truth is, I didn't feel very comfortable being the center of attention or performing in front of an audience. However, creating an environment where the audience on the dance floor feels something through the music I love—and that makes them want to dance—is something that really gives me adrenaline.

For me, music is meant to be shared. The role of the DJ, in my case, is to make the people in the audience listen and fall in love with the music I'm playing. I still believe that the protagonist shouldn't be the DJ, but the music playing on the dance floor.

 The world of DJs is a nocturnal world, do you like it?

The fact that the DJ world is nocturnal can have both positive and negative aspects. For example, a daytime set is very different from one in the middle of the night, when everyone is excited. During the day, I don't feel pressure to get people dancing, and I can build a set more naturally. At night, on the other hand, sets tend to constantly build toward a climax, and that can be stressful for me, but at the same time, it can also become a dramatic development, and some nights are unforgettable.

Is it a very masculine world?

Yes, over the past five or six years, there has been an increase in female DJs and people of different genders and backgrounds. However, there is still a vast majority of men as club owners and bookers, and female DJs are often booked from a male perspective. This is partly because the DJ world is focused on late-night entertainment. In situations where the crowd is aroused by drugs and alcohol, having only one woman in the booth can be difficult without adequate security. Furthermore, the difficulty for women in these environments lies in their greater vulnerability to harassment. I think that as the proportion of women in clubs, booking agencies, and among promoters increases, this situation will improve even further.

What is your relationship with traditional Japanese music?

Traditional Japanese music is mostly indigenous music, so defining what is considered traditional can be a bit tricky. The Japanese music I grew up with is usually modern music with a Japanese twist, influenced by Western music. However, for example, the sounds and rhythms of Japanese drums sometimes have a connection to the dance music, and lately I've been enjoying listening to it.

Do you have a new project you'd like to share?

I'm working with a friend who has a band to launch a label called "BlackGold and Mustard." The label's theme is the reconstruction of the disco genre while exploring its essence. We plan to make music together and organize events under the label's name. With Kyotaro, we've organized events in Tokyo, and on that occasion, we did so under the concept of fusing... krautrock minimal techno. Although my field is electronic music, I feel that psychedelic music also resonates with dance music. I'd like to host events like this in Barcelona as well.

In your professional artistic path, what were the most difficult challenges?

Little by little, I've begun to become a professional DJ, but what I face is the need to maintain my confidence and motivation. As I mentioned before, the DJ world is still largely dominated by men, especially white men, and being a foreigner in this scene has its advantages and disadvantages. I don't want to be hired just because I'm an Asian woman. I'd rather be hired for my set, without my appearance or nationality being a factor. In Japan, I didn't have those obstacles or worries, and I had supportive friends and colleagues. That's why getting to where I am as a DJ in Barcelona hasn't been easy, and on more than one occasion, I've thought about giving up. But I think I've succeeded so far because I believe I have a great passion and love for music and because I've worked hard in my own way.

What is the contemporary music scene like in Tokyo?

I think the DJ scene in Tokyo has also become more diverse in recent years. Japanese people have a penchant for being geeks, and when I return to Tokyo, I meet a lot of really talented DJs which inspires me a lot. The music scene in Tokyo that I know and love is quite i In the world mainstream, Hip-hop is experiencing a renaissance, which is interesting.

Do you also work at Time Out Tokyo? What do you do? What's the cultural scene like in Tokyo?

I work as a writer and translator at Time Out Tokyo. I interview interesting artists, write reviews, and cover club events in Tokyo. I'm grateful to be able to stay connected to the Tokyo scene while living in Barcelona, ​​and I think I know more about Tokyo than most people. (laughs) Tokyo is a place where cultural events are constantly taking place simultaneously. For example, if you go to a neighborhood, you can take a tour and attend several events. It's a unique way to enjoy Tokyo. However, unfortunately, just like in Barcelona, ​​welcoming so many tourists has changed the atmosphere of the bars and clubs I used to enjoy, in the sense that they've become more crowded. This has greatly influenced the club scene as well.

Can you name three artists or DJs you admire?

It's a tough question, really. But if I had to choose just three, I'd say Larry Heard from Chicago, Theo Parrish from Detroit, and Flying Lotus. The latter was an artist who has had a profound impact on me to this day, and I was greatly influenced by him.

This interview is part of March 8th. What would you like to say to other young women on this occasion?

When I was a child, society was very different. Women could only be part of the system or the movement, but now I feel like we're moving toward a future where we can be at the center. Still, there are still many inequalities, many situations where being a woman means carrying a disadvantage.

And the truth is, it's also tiring to have to be one “girlboss” all the time.

So, I think it's okay to allow yourself to be yourself, to be honest, and to be at peace without having to constantly fight.

I would like us to move toward a society where a woman can simply be herself, without pressure, without masks, just being herself, human, free. And I hope we can build that together.

Hanakito recommends…

A book: The Woman in Dunes / Abe Kōbō

Follow Hanakito on social media:

Instagram: @hanakito

 

This interview was conducted by Gaëlle Patin Laloy, head of the Diversity and Interculturality program at Casa Asia within the framework of 8M in 2025. More information: ppgad@pucrs.br

Alexandra Masangkay was born in Barcelona to a family of Filipino origin and currently resides in Madrid. She is an actress, director, producer, and entrepreneur. She made her big screen debut in the films "1898: The Last of the Philippines” and “Eh Hoyo”. He has worked on the series “Valeria” and “Better Days” and stands out as the protagonist in the film “Emperor Code”, directed by Jorge Coira, or his latest work, “Valle de Sombras”, by Salvador CalvoIn addition, he has participated in important musicals such as "The King León”, “Flashdance The Musical” and “The Hole.” He recently had the television series “Sandokan” (Luxvide) scheduled to premiere this year, and is currently filming the third season of “The Walking Dead: Daryl Dixon.”

Photo credit: Pau Venteo

Can you tell us about your career?

I was born in Barcelona and have Filipino origins, so I grew up very connected to that culture at home. I grew up in the Raval neighborhood, surrounded by the Filipino community, something I'm truly grateful for as an adult, because it laid the foundation for that part of my identity.

At 21 I moved to Madrid to begin my training in acting, and at 24 I had my first film project with the director Salvador CalvoFrom there, I gradually made my way into the audiovisual world and also into theater.

In the Filipino community, women were the first to migrate to Spain. What was your family's story?

My mother came from the Philippines when she was 20, eager to try something new. My father arrived about eight years later, also in Barcelona. They're incredibly hard workers: years ago, they partnered with my uncles and opened a Filipino restaurant called "Pasa-Pasa," which is still open today, near Sant Antoni. Later, my parents tried to open a bar on their own in Poble Sec, but the 8 crisis hit and everything got complicated. It's very inspiring to me that they're both such feisty people; I think it's something they've passed on to me and it's now part of my personality.

Filipino women…from what I know, yes, they were the pioneers. It was the same in my family: my mother came first, and then little by little she helped her younger sisters and brothers come to Spain as well.

What was it like growing up between two cultures?

One of the challenges, especially in adolescence, is understanding that you don't have to choose: both cultures are part of you; they coexist. Being a member of two cultures permeates you completely and inevitably shapes your identity.

What do you do now?

I'm currently an actress, director, producer, and entrepreneur. I can't reveal much yet, but in the coming weeks I'll begin filming my first project as a director. I also co-founded Punisher Rabbit Producciones with some partners, and I'm also the founder of a studio in Madrid called PLATÓ24.

What was your most impactful cinematic experience?

I couldn't choose just one. Each project has its place in my heart, and each one has helped me grow, both as an actress and as a person.

What character do you like to play?

I'm interested in exploring characters that are distinct from each other, with layers and contradictions, and being able to transform myself with each one. That's the most fun part of my acting career.

What is your relationship with cinema?

I do this professionally, so on the one hand, it's work, but it's also a passion. I feel lucky to be doing something I love, and that impacts my personal well-being. Especially because my body is my tool, and that means being present, taking care of myself, eating well, and moving. I find that a very positive aspect of this profession.

Does being an actress of Filipino descent entail more challenges?

This job is already difficult and very precarious. SolOr a small percentage can make a full living from it. In my case, my Filipino features have greatly influenced the roles I've been able to aspire to.

Although there has been progress, it's still difficult to break into the industry and be seen as a "real actress." I've even heard comments like I only work because I'm "racialized." But this is my face, I can't change it. I don't know what I would have looked like with a different appearance, but what I do know is that I've trained, I've built my career from the ground up, and everything I've achieved has been through a lot of hard work.

What's your relationship with the Filipino community? Are you still involved?

It's part of who I am. Whenever I return to Barcelona, ​​I try to contribute to the Filipino community in any way I can.

Do you consider yourself an activist?

I don't consider myself an activist as such, but I understand that occupying certain spaces, being who I am, already has a symbolic and political weight.

What does your professional success mean? And what does it mean for your family?

For me, it means being able to choose what I want to spend my time on.

For my family… I think they see it as “having a lot of money” (laughs), although they know that's not always the case. But yes, they appreciate that I'm doing well.

 What projects or dreams do you have for the future?

I want to continue acting in projects that excite me, premiere various projects I've worked on, write my own stories, and bring them to the audiovisual world. I'm really motivated by the creative and production side of things.

Alexandra recommends…

A movie: A Pastry Shop in Tokyo, by Naomi Kawase

A book: Daughter of Immigrants, by Safia El Aaddam

A music: Chan Chan, from Buena Vista Social Club

And a plate: An authentic carbonara pasta

Follow Alexandra on social media:

Instagram: @alexandramasangkay

 

This interview was conducted by Gaëlle Patin Laloy, head of the Diversity and Interculturality program at Casa Asia within the framework of 8M in 2025. More information: ppgad@pucrs.br