Edgware Street in London, often referred to as Edgware Road, is more than just a thoroughfare; it’s a living testament to the city’s rich history of immigration and cultural diversity. From its origins as a Roman road to its modern-day status as a bustling center for the Middle Eastern diaspora, Edgware Street London has continuously evolved, absorbing new influences while retaining its unique character. This vibrant street offers a fascinating glimpse into the lives and traditions of Middle Eastern communities in London, particularly through its thriving food scene and strong sense of community.
The story of Edgware Street London is deeply intertwined with the history of migration to the city. During the Roman era, a road was established here, facilitating trade and movement for people from across the empire, including those from West Asia, the historical term for the Middle East. Centuries later, in the 19th century, London began to see an influx of immigrants from the Ottoman Empire, a trend that intensified in the mid-20th century with arrivals from Egypt, Lebanon, Iran, and Algeria. However, it was the 1970s that marked a turning point for Edgware Street London, as Middle Eastern immigrants began to truly establish themselves and create a distinct community hub along this historic road.
Nicknamed “Little Cairo” or “Little Beirut,” the southern end of Edgware Street London is now renowned for its concentration of Middle Eastern restaurants, cafes, and shops. The aroma of shawarma, a beloved street food also known as doner kebab, permeates the air, instantly transporting visitors to the Middle East. For many, like the author of the original article, Edgware Street London holds deep personal significance. Growing up in a suburban English environment, visits to Edgware Street were a journey into a different world – a world of vibrant sights, sounds, and, most importantly, authentic Middle Eastern flavors. These trips were not just about food; they were about connecting with family, community, and a sense of belonging.
The experience of entering the eateries on Edgware Street London is often described as immersive and authentic. Restaurants, with their brightly lit interiors, faux-marble flooring, and dark wood accents, often display framed Arabic calligraphy, including the word “Allah.” Behind the counters, chefs skillfully carve shawarma, asking in Arabic, “dijaaj low laham?” (“chicken or lamb?”). For those from the Middle Eastern diaspora raised in different parts of London or the UK, Edgware Street London provides a crucial link to their cultural heritage. It’s a place where the Arabic language is spoken freely, where familiar faces and shared cultural references create a sense of home, even amidst the bustling city of London. The smells of spices and cooking evoke memories of home kitchens, forging a powerful emotional connection.
London’s history as a global city is fundamentally shaped by the contributions of its migrant communities. These communities have enriched the city in countless ways, not least through its diverse culinary landscape. Middle Eastern migrants have played a vital role in London’s food culture, introducing dishes like shawarma that have become staples for Londoners from all backgrounds. The article poignantly raises the question of whether those who might call for immigrants to “go back home” truly understand the extent to which migrant communities contribute to the very fabric of British society. Would late-night cravings for doner kebabs be satisfied if these communities were no longer present? The necessity for migrant communities to constantly prove their worth by highlighting their contributions, particularly their culinary skills, is a recurring and unfortunate theme. Furthermore, the rewards and recognition for these contributions often remain precarious and uncertain.
Recent events have highlighted the challenges faced by Middle Eastern communities in London, particularly in the context of gentrification. The story of Wael, a Palestinian immigrant who experienced anti-Palestinian racism during a job application in Peckham, sparked renewed discussions about gentrification and its impact on communities of color. Wael’s experience brought attention to the way in which the character of neighborhoods is changing, often at the expense of long-standing communities. The rise of “happy hours” and trendy pizza places in areas that were once known for their diverse ethnic food offerings is seen by some as a dilution of cultural identity driven by gentrification. This process disproportionately affects communities of color in boroughs across London, including Newham, Tower Hamlets, Southwark, and Lambeth, areas where many displaced communities have rebuilt their lives. For generations of displaced people who sought refuge in London, gentrification represents yet another form of displacement, eroding the communities they have painstakingly created.
Wael’s emphasis on displacement resonates deeply with the experiences of many in the Middle Eastern diaspora. The “Save Nour” campaign in Brixton, which successfully resisted the potential closure of a beloved Iraqi-owned store, provides another example of community resilience against the forces of gentrification. The owners of Nour, the Shaheen family, fled Saddam Hussein’s regime in Iraq in the 1980s, mirroring the experiences of the author’s own family who were displaced from Iraq in the 1990s. This shared history of displacement is a common thread within Arab communities, and the gentrification of areas like Edgware Street London, Latin Village, and Brick Lane threatens to dismantle the very spaces where the children of displaced people can explore their identity and find a sense of belonging in their new country.
Edgware Street London, with its rich tapestry of Middle Eastern culture and cuisine, is now facing the pressures of development and rising property values. Real estate professionals have described the street as “ripe for development,” highlighting its “undeveloped” and “scruffy” appearance as opportunities for investment. Plans have been approved for the demolition of housing blocks containing hundreds of flats and shop units, signaling a significant transformation of the area. The Marble Arch end of Edgware Street London has already begun to undergo extensive and expensive redevelopment. This has sparked fears among Middle Eastern residents and their descendants that Edgware Street London is heading towards a similar fate as areas like Hoxton, where long-term working-class communities have been priced out by gentrification.
However, development is a complex issue with both potential benefits and drawbacks. While gentrification poses a threat to the cultural character of Edgware Street London, some business owners believe that development can also bring economic opportunities. Ibrahim Kamal, the former owner of an Iraqi restaurant on Edgware Street London, acknowledges the potential for increased business from new, higher-income residents moving into the area. He sees development as a way to diversify the clientele and boost business, rather than a threat to the existing community. He points to nearby developments like Berkley’s West End Gate and the Nobu Hotel as examples of how new developments can attract a different customer base to the area.
Abu Ahmed, who runs an Egyptian restaurant on Edgware Street London, offers a contrasting perspective, expressing concern about the potential loss of cultural identity. He emphasizes the importance of Middle Eastern restaurants on Edgware Street London as cultural touchstones for the children of immigrants, providing a space to connect with their heritage. Despite Edgware Street London’s reputation as a hub for Middle Eastern food, restaurant owners are facing economic challenges due to rising London prices and inflation. Competition is fierce, and pandemic-related restrictions on tourism further impacted businesses that rely on visitors from the Middle East. Even when tourism was more robust, Edgware Street London has faced challenges due to a perception of being “unsafe,” leading some tourists to prefer areas like Knightsbridge and West Hampstead. Many businesses on Edgware Street London are currently operating at significantly reduced capacity compared to pre-pandemic levels.
For many, including the author, Edgware Street London has played a crucial role in navigating a dual Arab-British identity. It offers a tangible connection to homelands that may be geographically distant but remain deeply significant. Edgware Street London, and similar enclaves of Middle Eastern communities in London, are vital spaces that need protection. The threats they face are multifaceted, ranging from deeply ingrained Islamophobia and anti-Arab sentiment to the relentless pressures of gentrification. These communities are more than just places to eat; they are reservoirs of shared history, cultural identity, and community strength. Preserving Edgware Street London is not just about preserving businesses; it’s about safeguarding a vital part of London’s cultural heritage and ensuring that future generations can continue to find a sense of home away from home.
