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When does someone stop being an immigrant?

Soraya Mohamedi Mohamed · Chair of Ubuntu Canarias

Some questions seem simple until we try to answer them. One of them is: when does a person stop being an immigrant?

The legal answer is relatively clear. A person can acquire the nationality of the country where they live and stop being a foreign national in legal terms. From that moment on, they will generally have the same rights and duties as any other citizen.

However, social reality doesn't always follow the same path.

Many naturalised Spanish citizens continue to be identified as immigrants years later. Sometimes it's because of their first name, their surname, their accent, or simply how they look. Other times, one seemingly innocent question is enough:

—Where are you from?

The person answers: —From Las Palmas.

And a second question follows: —No, where are you really from?

Behind that everyday conversation lies something deeper than curiosity. There's a particular way of understanding identity.

The difference between being an immigrant and being perceived as one

Migrating is a fact. It's an experience that becomes part of a person's biography.

Someone born in Morocco who later settled in Spain will always have gone through a migratory process, even if they later acquire Spanish nationality. That doesn't mean they're still a foreigner. It means migration is part of their story.

The problem arises when that experience ends up becoming a permanent label.

There are people who, even after many years living in Spain, feel they continue to be seen only through the lens of their origin. It doesn't matter how much time has passed. It doesn't matter whether they studied here, work here, or have raised a family here. For some, they will always be “the immigrant.”

And what happens to those born in Spain?

The situation can be even more complex for the children of immigrants.

Many were born in Spain. Their everyday language is Spanish. They studied in Spanish schools. Their childhood memories belong to this country.

And yet, they often keep answering questions about a place they may never have lived in. At the same time, when they visit their parents' country of origin, they discover that there, too, they're seen as different.

In Morocco they're not always “the Moroccan.” They often become “the Spaniard.” Or “the European.”

It's a paradox that many bicultural people know well. In one place they're too Moroccan. In the other, they seem too Spanish.

Identity doesn't always fit into a single word

We're used to classifying things. It's comfortable to think that a person belongs to only one place. But reality is usually much richer than that.

There are people who have built their lives between two countries. They speak two languages. They celebrate different traditions. They keep family ties in both places. Their story doesn't begin and end at a single border.

That doesn't mean living divided. It means having built an identity where different cultural references coexist.

Biculturalism isn't about choosing between two parts of yourself. Often, it's about learning to live with both.

When other people's perception weighs more than a document

Nationality settles legal questions. Social perception works differently.

A person can hold a Spanish national identity document and still be told they “don't seem Spanish.” Another may keep their Moroccan nationality and hear, in Morocco, that they already think “like a European.”

None of those statements change who that person really is. What changes is the perspective of whoever is looking.

And that difference deserves to be taken into account when we talk about integration. Because integrating doesn't depend solely on the effort of the person who arrives. It also depends on a society's capacity to recognise the diversity of personal paths.

Beyond labels

For years, the debate on migration has focused mainly on administrative matters: residence permits, nationality, settlement status or international protection. These are important issues. But they're not the only ones.

The migratory experience also raises questions about identity, the sense of belonging, and the way people are recognised by society.

These are less visible aspects. They don't appear in administrative files. And yet, they're part of the everyday life of many people.

An identity that can be multiple

We often talk about identity as if you had to choose. Are you Moroccan or Spanish? Are you from here or from there? Perhaps the question itself is the wrong one.

There are people who are fully Spanish and keep a deep bond with Morocco. Others keep their nationality of origin and have built most of their life project in Spain.

Not every story is the same. Not everyone experiences biculturalism in the same way. That's precisely why it's worth avoiding overly simple answers.

Thinking about migration from another angle

When we talk about migration, we tend to focus on the moment of arrival. Much less on everything that comes after.

Adaptation, employment, social relationships, building a life project and the sense of belonging are also part of the migratory process.

Understanding that human dimension doesn't mean setting the legal framework aside. It means recognising that behind every administrative file there is a story that doesn't always fit into a single category.

— Soraya Mohamedi Mohamed · Chair of Ubuntu Canarias