Exploring Coexistence in Spain
Published 08/22/2023 in Scholar Travel Stipend
Written
by Jiyoun Roh |
08/22/2023
This summer, I spent some time in Toledo, Spain. Officially, I took a class on Spanish language and culture; unofficially, I conducted research on how the meaning of diversity has changed within Toledo, considering its past as the former capital of Spain and its present state as a city that strives to preserve this rich history.
My research ranged from architecture and interviews to my own lived experience. Given that we live in an increasingly globalized world, and taking into account the role of the Milken Institute as a think tank focused on tackling global issues, understanding how diversity changes between and within countries can provide a deeper perspective on the nuanced contexts for such issues. After all, if we are to strive for a “meaningful life”, we need to first acknowledge that “meaningful” differs for each person around the world.
My first day in Toledo, I learned about a concept called convivencia. In the context of Toledo, convivencia refers to the relatively peaceful coexistence between three religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—before the Jewish expulsion in 1492. In my passage through the city, I saw evidence of it everywhere, in churches built in the mudejár style, an illumination that read “the Jewish District of Toledo”, souvenirs that combined the cross, star, and crescent moon in increasingly creative ways. For example, the Mosque of Cristo de la Luz functions as a Catholic church in the present but was once a mosque named “Mosque of Bab
al-Mardum.” Its Muslim influence is apparent not only in the name but also in the style of construction: there is an Arabic inscription that begins with “bismala” (the name of ala), and its arches and geometrical simplicity reflect the style of contemporary Muslim structures. This was the building that inspired my research journey of the convivencia that Toledo’s tourism websites so espouse.
But such a narrow definition of convivencia is a thing of the past that doesn’t take into account a present-day Spain that is home to people of various ethnicities, religions, sexualities, and capabilities that I saw glimpses of in my travels throughout the country. In my research, I suggest a new context for convivencia that includes modern multiculturalism. After all, the word itself implies nothing specific; it simply means “coexistence”.
The ethnic diversity of Toledo and Madrid challenged my misconception of Spain as a place only for white Catholics, rhetoric frequently seen in media. In particular, I explored the Hispanic-Asian identity through an interview and tour through Usera, a neighborhood in Madrid. In the former, I spoke with Dani, an ethnically-Korean Spanish owner of a Korean skincare shop, who I met by complete chance. Dani grew up in the Canary Islands, Spain, for seventeen years before moving to Korea for ten years, where he experienced major culture shocks. In childhood, he had never felt distinctly Spanish nor Korean, yet in Korea, he felt overwhelmingly Spanish in the face of his difficulties adjusting to Korean culture. Now back in Spain, he says he is “100% Spanish and 100% Korean,” and feels generally accepted as a member of Spanish society even though he is not white. The presence of Dani in Toledo is a testament that Spanish-Koreans do exist. 
Additionally, I explored the Hispanic-Asian experience in Usera, Madrid. Walking through this neighborhood transported me back to San Francisco’s Chinatown: restaurants with golden Chinese letters, advertisements with East Asian women, Mandarin spoken in the streets. Yet Spanish culture was, fittingly, everywhere, in Spanish spoken by young East Asian folks, Spanish translations below Chinese signage, restaurants that serve Chinese tapas. Here I observed convivencia between the dominant Spanish culture with the minority Chinese one.
Furthermore, another feature of Usera—the presence of Bolivian supermarkets next to Chinese boba shops—reflects convivencia between two minority populations, Chinese and Bolivian, who foster interactions with each other in the landscape of the Spanish capital. In contrast to the convivencia of the more ethnically homogenous Spanish past, the ethnically diverse populations of present-day Spain allow for coexistence of various cultures.
Next, I investigated diversity in physical capability. This required me to physically interact with my environment in Toledo, which was constructed before accessibility laws but has tried to make itself accessible: parking spots, buses with designated places for wheelchair-users, and ramps next to stairs. During my walks in the city, I saw both tourists and locals make use of these accommodations. Such efforts that strive for inclusion align with the national identity of Spain, one of the first European countries to recognize the importance of universal education.
However, I did notice that some streets were lined in uneven cobblestone, some alleyways too narrow for a wheelchair to pass through, and some restaurants only accessible via stairs. More changes must be made in Toledo for convivencia to truly take on the responsibility of inclusion, but it is also important to remember that accessibility is a gradient and not a ceiling. Because accessibility as a goal is (fittingly) ever-changing and ever-accommodating, it is the striving for that is important. Perhaps this can hold relevance to the Milken Foundation as it tackles physical and mental health.
Less subtle but equally important during my travels was the curious and unconventional tourist-centered diversity in Toledo. Most prominent was the American influence, which manifested in fast-food restaurants like McDonalds, Burger King, and Starbucks plopped in the middle of an ancient plaza lined with even more ancient statues. Given that tourists make up a significant portion of Toledo’s population, as well as their interactions with both locals (gift shops, restaurants) and the landscape (museums, tour guides), they could very well be considered a part of Toledo (and even Spain)’s identity. This type of tourist-centered convivencia would be fitting; Spain is the second-most visited country in the world and undoubtedly strives to ease a visitor’s transition.
My research ranged from architecture and interviews to my own lived experience. Given that we live in an increasingly globalized world, and taking into account the role of the Milken Institute as a think tank focused on tackling global issues, understanding how diversity changes between and within countries can provide a deeper perspective on the nuanced contexts for such issues. After all, if we are to strive for a “meaningful life”, we need to first acknowledge that “meaningful” differs for each person around the world.
My first day in Toledo, I learned about a concept called convivencia. In the context of Toledo, convivencia refers to the relatively peaceful coexistence between three religions—Christianity, Judaism, and Islam—before the Jewish expulsion in 1492. In my passage through the city, I saw evidence of it everywhere, in churches built in the mudejár style, an illumination that read “the Jewish District of Toledo”, souvenirs that combined the cross, star, and crescent moon in increasingly creative ways. For example, the Mosque of Cristo de la Luz functions as a Catholic church in the present but was once a mosque named “Mosque of Bab
al-Mardum.” Its Muslim influence is apparent not only in the name but also in the style of construction: there is an Arabic inscription that begins with “bismala” (the name of ala), and its arches and geometrical simplicity reflect the style of contemporary Muslim structures. This was the building that inspired my research journey of the convivencia that Toledo’s tourism websites so espouse.
But such a narrow definition of convivencia is a thing of the past that doesn’t take into account a present-day Spain that is home to people of various ethnicities, religions, sexualities, and capabilities that I saw glimpses of in my travels throughout the country. In my research, I suggest a new context for convivencia that includes modern multiculturalism. After all, the word itself implies nothing specific; it simply means “coexistence”.
The ethnic diversity of Toledo and Madrid challenged my misconception of Spain as a place only for white Catholics, rhetoric frequently seen in media. In particular, I explored the Hispanic-Asian identity through an interview and tour through Usera, a neighborhood in Madrid. In the former, I spoke with Dani, an ethnically-Korean Spanish owner of a Korean skincare shop, who I met by complete chance. Dani grew up in the Canary Islands, Spain, for seventeen years before moving to Korea for ten years, where he experienced major culture shocks. In childhood, he had never felt distinctly Spanish nor Korean, yet in Korea, he felt overwhelmingly Spanish in the face of his difficulties adjusting to Korean culture. Now back in Spain, he says he is “100% Spanish and 100% Korean,” and feels generally accepted as a member of Spanish society even though he is not white. The presence of Dani in Toledo is a testament that Spanish-Koreans do exist.
Additionally, I explored the Hispanic-Asian experience in Usera, Madrid. Walking through this neighborhood transported me back to San Francisco’s Chinatown: restaurants with golden Chinese letters, advertisements with East Asian women, Mandarin spoken in the streets. Yet Spanish culture was, fittingly, everywhere, in Spanish spoken by young East Asian folks, Spanish translations below Chinese signage, restaurants that serve Chinese tapas. Here I observed convivencia between the dominant Spanish culture with the minority Chinese one.
Furthermore, another feature of Usera—the presence of Bolivian supermarkets next to Chinese boba shops—reflects convivencia between two minority populations, Chinese and Bolivian, who foster interactions with each other in the landscape of the Spanish capital. In contrast to the convivencia of the more ethnically homogenous Spanish past, the ethnically diverse populations of present-day Spain allow for coexistence of various cultures.
Next, I investigated diversity in physical capability. This required me to physically interact with my environment in Toledo, which was constructed before accessibility laws but has tried to make itself accessible: parking spots, buses with designated places for wheelchair-users, and ramps next to stairs. During my walks in the city, I saw both tourists and locals make use of these accommodations. Such efforts that strive for inclusion align with the national identity of Spain, one of the first European countries to recognize the importance of universal education.
However, I did notice that some streets were lined in uneven cobblestone, some alleyways too narrow for a wheelchair to pass through, and some restaurants only accessible via stairs. More changes must be made in Toledo for convivencia to truly take on the responsibility of inclusion, but it is also important to remember that accessibility is a gradient and not a ceiling. Because accessibility as a goal is (fittingly) ever-changing and ever-accommodating, it is the striving for that is important. Perhaps this can hold relevance to the Milken Foundation as it tackles physical and mental health.
Less subtle but equally important during my travels was the curious and unconventional tourist-centered diversity in Toledo. Most prominent was the American influence, which manifested in fast-food restaurants like McDonalds, Burger King, and Starbucks plopped in the middle of an ancient plaza lined with even more ancient statues. Given that tourists make up a significant portion of Toledo’s population, as well as their interactions with both locals (gift shops, restaurants) and the landscape (museums, tour guides), they could very well be considered a part of Toledo (and even Spain)’s identity. This type of tourist-centered convivencia would be fitting; Spain is the second-most visited country in the world and undoubtedly strives to ease a visitor’s transition.
Overall, my trip to Spain was a success that I would like to share with other scholars interested in visiting Spain or in the topic of diversity itself, which has experienced a surge in popularity over the last decades. As aforementioned, as the world grows more globalized, analyses of diversity are always in the works. The Milken Foundation in particular prides itself on it, reflected in scholars that come from various backgrounds, passionate in different areas. Because our mission statement focuses on tackling issues through the “lens of what’s pressing now and what’s coming next”, it’s important to reference the perspectives of various groups, as each may hold different priorities, methods, and goals. For example, we could learn from how Toledo, Spain, accommodates disabled folks, or how a certain global issue can look different based on the regions within the same country.
In the context of the Milken Foundation, which promotes education, I hope to continue my research into cultural diversity. I view it as a continuation of my travels in Korea last summer, where I compared and contrasted Korean and Colombian culture, which share more common aspects than one would think. Echoing what I wrote one year ago, I will be using these findings as an educational resource for myself and for peers that I share this knowledge with, information that can also be found in the pictures, drawings, and notes I compiled during my Spain travels.
