The other Lamines

I currently attend to more than a dozen young people in my practice, some born in Morocco and others here, children of Moroccan parents. When I listen to them, I often think about how little they resemble the portrait we usually paint of the children of immigrants. They all have higher education: degrees, master's degrees, or doctorates. They hold diverse professions and occupy positions of responsibility in hospitals, universities, professional associations, and other institutions in the country. But there is a characteristic that unites them even more than their résumés.

They all studied while working. They all helped out financially at home. And they all maintain a deeply affectionate relationship with their families. When I say all, I mean all. In fact, one of the most common conflicts that arises in my practice is how to build one's own life without hurting parents. How to become independent without that freedom being perceived as disloyalty.

I recently spent a few days in Casablanca. During a dinner with friends —most of them from Casablanca who had studied abroad and then decided to return to their country— the conversation turned to family relationships. One of those present summarized it with a phrase: "We love our parents with devotion. This is a blessing, but it also makes it very difficult for us to make decisions that might hurt them."

My patients often speak of their parents' sacrifice. Of precarious jobs. Of endless hours. Of the silent humiliations that migration often entails. They feel they have received a debt impossible to repay and would like to make restitution, even if only a little, for all that effort. They regret seeing the place they continue to occupy in our society.

A few months ago, a patient showed me the dedication of her doctoral thesis. It was not for a professor or a research supervisor. It was for her grandmother. "For calling me every week asking about my studies while my mother worked doing houses." Behind those few lines lay a love story between three generations.

Lamine Yamal, an extraordinary footballer who is also a role model for many of these young people, never fails to mention in every interview, in every celebration, the fundamental role of his family in the person he has become.

Now allow me to put on my culer and Cruyffista hat. I can't help but think that if Lamine Yamal were a Real Madrid player, the club's formidable institutional and media machinery would tirelessly campaign for him to win the Ballon d'Or. At Barça, we are more cautious. In life, in general, I like to be cautious, but it drives me crazy in football. We have the best player in the world!

To Barça's caution is added the fact that Lamine Yamal is Muslim and transmits too much happiness. A part of society dislikes the first (we know this well now because Islamophobia is no longer disguised) and many culers dislike the second. Poor Lamine!

For many years I have heard it repeated that Catalonia is not a racist country. I always answer the same: all countries have their racisms. Catalonia is no exception. It is not worse than others. But it is not better either.

Whether Catalan Alliance wins the next election or comes in second, whether the political balance changes or not, Lamine Yamal will continue to make us culers happy and, I hope, many Catalans. And with him will continue all the Lamines: the young people who speak several languages, who deeply love their parents, who practice Islam in their own way, who have grown up between different worlds and who, with more or less fortune, are already an inseparable part of the Catalan 'us'.

This is their victory. And it is also ours.

Pas mal, as the French would say. Even those who, according to former president Rajoy, weren't entirely French.