”A person resembles the place where they live

They resemble the water, the soil of that place

To the fish swimming in its water

To the flower pushing through its soil

To the misty slope of its mountains and hills’’

— Edip Cansever

A place is not just a structure; it is the representation of our faith, identity, memory, and sense of belonging. For a long time, I have witnessed people forced to leave their homes, lands, and cultures due to wars and disasters. As an architect, I know that life is built upon the sense of belonging established with a place. A place is not just stone, walls, or streets; it carries memories, sounds, scents, and a sense of safety. We watch lives being packed into suitcases, bags, and even plastic bags. In unfamiliar countries and cities, as they try to rebuild their lives, we witness the question: “Is this now my homeland?” “Is this now my home?” Every migration carries its own story. From the kitchen to the living room, from local shopkeepers to neighborly relations, everything is reshaped in this process, forming not only a material but also a spiritual reconstruction. These stories do not belong only to those who migrate, but to all of us; they are stories we must remember, understand, and feel. Perhaps that is why writing about migration and place is not just a topic choice for me, but a responsibility I feel both professionally and as a Muslim.

Migration: The Journey of Existence

Migration is the span of time between a person’s birth and death. From our creation, from the womb to birth, until we grow up, it occurs sometimes by our will, sometimes beyond it. Until eternal life, it is the collection of events that befall a person. Sometimes countries, cities, and neighborhoods change. Sometimes economic reasons, disasters, and wars begin a journey of displacement. Our main story is destined to be about passing through and migrating from this world. Migration occurs not occur only in geography but also in emotions, beliefs, and identities. Everything, both living and non-living, is displaced alongside people. Since place holds memory, its loss begins, forcing society into cultural and collective change.

The Intersection of Architecture and Migration

Architecture is not limited to creating buildings and places; it forms the identity of a society. Neighborhoods, streets, and building typologies are rebuilt through migration. This process sometimes leads to emotional losses, sometimes to hope. Place is both the object and the subject of migrants’ need to take root again. Migration is not merely a matter of shelter for architecture; it is a matter of city rights, representation, and belonging. Place is inherently dynamic, born out of creation and destruction. Humans both intervene in and are part of this state. Everything we look at, see, and live with seeps into our being. This is the strongest bond between humans and place. Over time, people resemble the places they inhabit, and places bear traces of the people. Architecture is not just about producing buildings that fulfill shelter needs; it is the art of embedding people’s memories, cultures, and lifestyles into place. Migration uproots this memory, culture, and way of life and transfers it to another context. A person who migrates to a new place blends their past, habits, and emotions with the new places they encounter. In this process, architecture becomes a tool for re-rooting. From the first tent set up in the migrated place to the permanent residence built, and even public places—every structure carries traces of the migrant’s past and gives clues about their new life. Therefore, migration creates hybrid places in architecture; places that look partly toward the past and partly toward the future, where familiarity and strangeness, loss and hope coexist. We, as people who build the bridge between humans and architecture, can reduce migrants’ sense of foreignness by adding familiar details to new places, strengthening their sense of belonging.

Memory, Belonging, and Reconstruction

For an architect, migration is not only a transformation of design but also of meaning. The needs of migrants, their traumas, search for belonging, and cultural identities influence every stage, from plans to material choices. Thus, migration adds new forms, functions, and stories to architecture. The identity of a place after migration emerges as the tangible result of this blending process. In their new settlements, migrants carry traces of the geography they left behind while also adopting the cultural fabric of their new place. As a result, “in-between identity” places emerge; not entirely belonging to the old, nor fully to the new one. These places are like living organisms, where different layers of belonging overlap. At this point, the concept of memory places in architecture becomes important. Memory places are places that carry people’s experiences, social stories, and emotional bonds. Migration transforms these memory places, sometimes reconstructing them. The smell of coffee from the old neighborhood finds a counterpart in a shop in the new city, and the feeling of playing in childhood streets moves into a new apartment courtyard. By building these bridges, we can reduce migrants’ sense of foreignness and strengthen their sense of belonging. In conclusion, migration and architecture are not two separate fields; they are two strong dynamics that together address humanity’s hope to hold on to life. Migration brings new arrangements to cities in architecture, while architecture gives meaning and memory to the chaos created by migration, thereby revealing a new story.

The best example of this for me is the Turkish Muslim communities living in England, who have built not only architectural but also social and cultural richness in the areas where they settled. In some neighborhoods in the north of London, bakeries, restaurants, and markets opened by Turkish tradesmen have both boosted the local economy and allowed migrants to preserve their own culture. Mosques and cultural centers have become social gathering points for the neighborhood, beyond being just places of worship. The rich tastes of Turkish cuisine have contributed to England’s multicultural identity, from street festivals to market stalls, and to abundant iftar tables during Ramadan; hospitality and strong family ties have brought warmth to neighborly relations.

This reminds me of a hadith of our Prophet (peace be upon him): “Allah is beautiful and loves beauty.” Our duty in this world is built upon finding beauty and beautifying what we find. In this way, migration becomes not just a spatial change but a lasting transformation woven into the fabric of society. This gives us clues for our next topic on the formation of Belonging and Identity.

References

Edip Cansever. Yerçekimli Karanfil. İstanbul: Adam Yayınları, 1984.

Tuan, Yi-Fu. Space and Place: The Perspective of Experience. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1977.

Müslim, Ebu’l-Hüseyn. (1992). Sahih-i Müslim: İman Kitabı (Çev. M. Sofuoğlu). İstanbul: Diyanet İşleri Başkanlığı Yayınları.