Light explodes overhead as towering figures dance above the crowd, their papier-mache faces glowing in the dark, illuminated by sparks. I’d lived in Barcelona for barely a week when I found myself face-to-face with the devils, los diables, pressed tightly into the throes of celebration. The festival was Correfoc, literally translated to “fire run,” and it was exactly as it sounds: devils run through the streets carrying flaming pitchforks as firecrackers and fireworks erupt, casting showers of sparks over teeming crowds of people. Correfoc was the first of many events I attended that weekend in Barcelona, as the city celebrated its patron saint, the Virgin of Mercy (La Mercé). Each event promoted a “Catalonian identity,” something I had heard of, but never seen firsthard. Living in Barcelona allowed me the perfect opportunity to stand face-to-face with los diables in Correfoc, amongst the crowds watching the Castells and sardanes, or sit with the children cheering as the gegants walked past. Each of these are culturally significant to Barcelona, but beyond that, Catalonia. Spain has 17 autonomous communities,
The Catalan cultural identity is kept alive in these annual celebrations, and during my four months living in Barcelona, I began to see how in contexts such as La Mercé, the fight for independence flares to life.
In the eyes of a proud American, independence can oftentimes be associated with revolution, fiery and militant. But in Catalonia, that revolution is a quieter, day-to-day struggle for recognition and cultural preservation. During the long weekend celebrations of La Mercé, that revolution was a lot more stark. Correfoc was only one of these celebrations, and I learned even more about Catalan heritage as I observed the deep-rooted tradition of Castells, the human towers. It was incredible to witness 75+ people banding together and creating towers 6-10 levels high! I watched dancers perform the Sardana, a traditional Catalan dance, and the gegants, or giants, march through the parades with their massive papier-mache heads. Over the course of the weekend, I witnessed the national pride of Catalonians firsthand, and saw how La Mercé kept the motivation for independence and identity alive. As an American, it was fascinating to witness such concentrated customs where I was used to diffusion across the massive plane that is American culture. I realized that being an American came with less obvious cultural habits, like traditional foods, dances, accents, celebrations, etc. There’s some nation-wide traditions like the Fourth of July, or hamburgers/donuts, or English as the national language (though only a more recent amendment), but what about the difference between Oregon and Louisiana? Or California and NorCal, SoCal, San Diego, the Bay, the Central Valley, and the Inland Empire? These terms make no sense under the term “American culture,” when there’s a trillion local cultures with which to identify a person. It’s here where I realized that the American mindset can’t quite grasp what it means to be a Catalonian, even with sharing the same fight for independence. While Americans may identify with a state or a city, we’ve rarely felt like our entire culture was at risk of being expunged. At first, I didn’t understand how Catalonia was fighting for independence in a way that wasn’t face-to-face, but enduring and hidden under the festivals and celebrations that reveal the unity and pride of Catalonia.
The American identity was built from the resistance developed over time under the political subjugation and economic exploitation of the British colonial era. Catalonia, on the other hand, suffered severe oppression under the hand of Francoism, facing heavy suppression of Catalan language and culture and forced Castilianization. Where the American Revolution found closure in a definitive treaty and new constitution, Catalonia’s struggle continued. After Franco’s death and the end to his dictatorship in 1975, the 1978 Constitution established the 17 Autonomous Communities, preventing Catalonia from acting as a sovereign state. For decades, Catalans preserved their national unity, culminating in the 2017 Referendum to secede from Spain, which was then declared illegal by the Spanish government. While ineffective in establishing independence, the referendum showed the continuation of the fight for independence, even as years stretch on.
As I stood watching the exaneta, the youngest child of the Castells, climb to the very top of the human tower, I realized that independence in Catalonia was a journey of collective struggle, rather than an explosive battle. Today, the struggle is still evident in the government today, has moved to the government, with debates over amnesty deals for those involved in the 2017 movement starting in 2024. It’s a reminder to Americans that though we may see independence as a victory one-and-done, it’s an ongoing and sometimes quiet battle for the rest of the world. Living in Barcelona challenged my assumption that a nation fighting for independence would rebel in quick fashion, guns blazing. Instead, I saw firsthand the ongoing tension that served as a reminder that independence isn’t always a decisive victory from a brutal fight, but can be a slow and unresolved process. The American narrative dominates many global understandings of independence, but Catalonia challenged that for me: Do you win independence? Negotiate? Or redefine yourself?
Image source: flickr