Blog post by Spencer Swain, York St John University, UK

In the heart of Northern England, a quiet cultural ritual unfolds behind closed doors: young British-Somali men gather in mafrish (khat cafes) spaces to chew khat, a bitter leaf native to the Horn of Africa. Far from being solely a leisure activity, this practice is deeply embedded in questions of identity, belonging and resistance. As I explore in my Identities article, ‘Don't forget the juicy fruits’: khat-chewing, diaspora, and identity amongst young British-Somali men in the North of England’, khat-chewing functions as a powerful cultural anchor for diasporic youth navigating the complexities of British urban life.

Khat (Catha edulis) is a mild stimulant traditionally consumed in Somaliland and surrounding regions such as Kenya, Ethiopia and Yemen. In the diaspora, its use has been reappropriated to fit the cultural and social dynamics of a new context, serving not only as a link to heritage but also as a coping mechanism amid experiences of marginalization, Islamophobia and racialization. Within the mafrish, young men engage in storytelling, debate and ritualized consumption that echo the cultural rhythms of their ancestral homeland.

Drawing on 18 months of ethnographic fieldwork, my research challenges binary understandings of identity. Rather than viewing British-Somali youth as caught between two worlds, the study reveals how they actively construct hybrid selves that blend Somaliness with Britishness. In this context, it is documented how khat-chewing becomes a site of ‘diasporic consciousness’, where cultural memory and contemporary experience intersect. As one participant put it, ‘Chewing khat makes you feel like a proper Somali’.

Blog post by Heisnam Olivia Devi and Hashik Nadukkandiyil, Tezpur University, India
 
When cultural tradition is invoked, who gets to belong? This question is central to our research on trans women in Manipur, India, known locally as nupi maanbi. Their presence in festivals and rituals is both visible and contested, showing how tradition can act as a tool of inclusion or exclusion.
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One of the most important sites where this tension unfolds is the Lai Haraoba festival, a pivotal event in Meitei society. Lai Haraoba celebrates creation, deities and community life through ritual dance and music. The performances are led by maibis (Meitei shamans, including nupi amaibis and nupa amaibis) accompanied by maibas (male shamans) playing the pena, a traditional musical instrument. Within this linguistic and cultural framework, amaibi refers to a priestess figure in the Meitei tradition, encompassing both nupi amaibis (female priestesses) and nupa amaibis (individuals assigned male at birth who represent femininity in their priestly functions, including nupi maanbis). In recent years, cultural organizations in Manipur have restricted the participation of nupi maanbi, arguing that the celebration must adhere to a rigid male-female binary, and justifying this exclusion in the name of preserving tradition. In practice, however, this exclusion narrows who counts as culturally legitimate.

Blog post by Çağlar Çetin-Ayşe, Augustana College, USA
 
When discussions of gender equality surface in Turkey, attention often centers on women’s struggles and resistance. My research, published in Identities as ‘Unpacking the nexus of ethnoreligious identity, minority status, and young men’s feminist self-identification in Turkey’, shifts that focus to diverse young men who support gender equality. Based on face-to-face interviews I conducted with Sunni Turkish, Kurdish, Alevi and Arab Alawite men, the study examines how their ethnoreligious identities shape their paths toward (or away from) feminist allyship. The findings complicate the widespread assumption that marginalization fosters empathy for other oppressed groups.

Across Europe and beyond, public debates may frame minority men (such as Muslim men in Scandinavian countries or Kurdish men in Turkey) as either threats to gender equality or as potential allies due to their experiences of exclusion. But the picture is far more complex. In Turkey, a country deeply polarized along ethnic, religious and political lines, these dynamics play out in unexpected ways.