Part II of a series. Start with Part I.
“They took our culture from us”
Summer reflections, Part II
Last July, I went to a folklore concert (https://www.instagram.com/tapiajoseba/" rel="nofollow">@tapiajoseba) in Añorga, Gipuzkoa (central Basque Country) with friends. Some of us from the periphery, places where liking Basque dances or traditions still feels… unusual.
The plaza was overflowing. Young people singing, dancing, recognizing every rhythm and every step as if it were part of their DNA. I watched them with admiration… and a bit of envy.
In my hometown, or at least in my neighborhood, this scene would have been impossible. There, speaking Basque or loving its folklore still comes with social consequences.
We stood at the edge of the plaza, trying to imitate the advanced dances we never properly learned, trying to fit. I grew up in a town where cultural transmission had been lost. Marginal towns within the "euskaldun" culture.
A quiet, familiar anger rose in me.
I looked at my friend and said:
—They took our culture from us.
He nodded, gently.
—Try to enjoy.
But I couldn't.
We had been planning the concert for weeks and all I felt was anger. Anger towards my "no-roots". And I have no one to be angry at.
My parents passed down love for the language, but even they (I believe) carried a sense of loss,
conveying more an idea of our culture than the lived culture itself.
A transmission interrupted somewhere in the past, though I don't know exactly when.
And standing there, we danced at the edge of that plaza, almost asking for permission; but especially, not bothering them. Once again, in the fcking periphery.
Is there any cultural element you have lost? Tell me in the comments.
👉 Continue in Part III
Originally posted on Instagram on November 27, 2025: view the original post.
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