A diasporic right to the city: the production of a Moroccan diaspora space in Granada, Spain

Abstract In this paper, I bring together ideas of ‘diaspora space’ and ‘the right to the city’ and empirically demonstrate how the formation of diasporas is frequently dependent on migrants attaining certain rights to the city. These rights, I argue, are conditioned and attained by the interplay of urban structural context with the place-making strategies of migrants. Drawing on 8 months of ethnographic fieldwork, I demonstrate that Moroccan migrants in Granada, Spain, have achieved a partial right to a neighbourhood of the city, producing a multi-sensory, self-orientalised diaspora space. First, I show that certain urban conditions in Granada provided a foothold for Moroccan migrants to begin to form a diaspora and transform urban space. Second, I demonstrate that through the mobilisation of a strategically self-orientalised cultural capital, the diaspora have partly appropriated the valuable history of Al-Andalus, a key component in the city’s tourist imagery. These factors and strategies have enabled Moroccan migrants to gain a right to have a visible presence in the city, a right to produce and transform urban space and a right to spatalise diverse identities – all key rights, I argue, in the formation of a diaspora.

facteurs et stratégies ont permis aux migrants marocains d'obtenir un droit à la présence visible dans la ville, un droit à la production et à la transformation de l'espace urbain et un droit à spatialiser diverses identités -qui, je le soutiens, sont tous des droits cardinaux à la formation d'une diaspora. Un derecho de la diáspora a la ciudad: la producción del espacio de la diáspora marroquí en Granada, España RESUMEN Este trabajo reúne ideas de 'espacio de diáspora' y 'derecho a la ciudad' y demuestra empíricamente cómo la formación de las diásporas con frecuencia depende de que los inmigrantes obtengan ciertos derechos a la ciudad. Se afirma que estos derechos están condicionados y son alcanzados por la interacción del contexto estructural urbano con las estrategias de diseño de lugares de los inmigrantes. Basándose en 8 meses de trabajo de campo etnográfico, se demuestra que los inmigrantes marroquíes en Granada, España, han ganado el derecho parcial a un barrio de la ciudad, produciendo un espacio de diáspora multi-sensorial y auto-orientalizado. En primer lugar, se demuestra que ciertas condiciones urbanas en Granada proporcionaron un punto de apoyo a los inmigrantes marroquíes para comenzar a formar una diáspora y transformar el espacio urbano. En segundo lugar, se demuestra que, a través de la movilización de un capital cultural estratégicamente auto-orientalizado, la diáspora se apropió parcialmente de la valiosa historia de Al-Ándalus, un componente clave en la imagen turística de la ciudad. Estos factores y estrategias Introduction Accelerated globalisation and the increasing diversification of societies have been paralleled by rapid urbanisation and urban change (UN-Habitat, 2012). As a result, scholars have begun to examine the intersections of urbanisation and migration, asking how do migrants participate in urban transformation (Glick Schiller & Caglar, 2011;Hall, 2015). A key feature of contemporary migration is the formation of diasporas (Blunt, 2007), which, in brief, are migrant 'communities' who 'sustain a national, cultural or religious identity through the sense of internal cohesion and sustained ties with a real or imagined homeland' (Adamson & Demetriou, 2007, p. 13). It is the city that is considered the central location for the formation of diasporas and Alison Blunt and Jayani Bonnerjee have developed the term 'diaspora cities' to assert the significance 'to many people living in diaspora of the city as home rather than the nation as 'homeland' ' (2013, p. 221). As the formation of diasporas frequently entails practices and strategies of place and home making, diasporas imbue cities with 'new' cultures, identities and economies, participating in the transformation of urban space. Conversely, the contextualities of cities, such as their specific histories, cultures and economies, partly construct diasporas, influencing formations of diasporic dwelling, identity and belonging. Diasporas and cities are mutually constitutive, simultaneously constructing each other. Therefore, the formation of diasporas and the material processes this involves are a key way that migrants participate in city-making and urban change. Through acknowledging the constitutive interplay of diasporas and space, scholars such as Brah (1996) and more recently Knott (2010) have argued for the need to leave 'diaspora' for 'diaspora space' and occupy 'an arena in which locations and their complex populations are taken seriously' (Mcloughlin & Knott, 2010, p. 271).
As diaspora is a spatial process then, which frequently involves practices of city-making and urban transformation, migrants need to attain certain rights to the city to be able to produce a diaspora space. However, the notion of the right to the city has only received a relatively small amount of attention from scholars explicitly exploring migrant experiences (Castañeda, 2012;Dikec, 2005;Nicholls & Vermeulen, 2012) and even less for those examining diaspora formations. This is surprising when you consider that the right to the city for numerous scholars is seen to be concerned about the urban rights of the oppressed and marginalised (Marcuse, 2009), a condition frequently associated with contemporary migrants. Therefore, in this paper, I develop the notion of the right to the city by connecting it to ideas of diaspora and diaspora space. To do this, I carry out an empirical analysis of the intersections between Moroccan diaspora formations and the production of urban space in the city of Granada in southern Spain. I explore how Moroccan migrants have negotiated and mobilised diversity and place-making strategies to gain a 'diasporic right to the city' , and how the spatiality of Granada influences the socio-spatial, cultural and economic practices of Moroccan migrants. The core empirical argument made throughout the paper is that through the intersections of migrant place-making strategies with specific features of Granada's context, Moroccan migrants have partly appropriated the Muslim history of Al-Andalus and gained the right to produce a multi-sensory, self-orientalised diaspora space. The analysis, therefore, is very much attentive to the interplay between migrant agency and urban spatiality in the formation of a diaspora space. Through the empirical analysis, I assert that a diasporic right to the city is a gradual and spatially transformative process that emerges through the interactions between migrant place-making strategies and the urban context. Consequently, the rights achieved and the type of diaspora space produced are highly dependent on the spatial context of the city. In broad terms, the overarching rights to form a diaspora space, I assert, are the right to transform and produce urban space and the right to spatialise and display distinctive identities -essentially a 'right to difference' (Millington, 2011).
The analytical purchase of the right to the city for examining migrant and diaspora experiences then, which I aim to demonstrate in this paper, is that it refocuses the lens of analyses on why and how migrants achieve varied forms of urban participation, and through connecting it to ideas of diaspora, it can shed light on how migrants form diasporas and the role the urban plays in diaspora formations. Ultimately, the right to the city is a way to focus down on the spatial opportunities and spatial limitations that migrants and diasporas encounter in contemporary cities. Moreover, with the continued 'migrant polemic' engulfing European and North American politics, understanding the rights migrants have to participate in city life is of increasing political importance.
The core focus of the paper is on the place-making strategies and urban factors that enabled the formation of a Moroccan diaspora space in the lower Albayzín, a part of Granada that is often referred to as 'little Morocco' (Rogozen-Soltar, 2007). It is a study, primarily, of the producers of space, rather than those who consume it. In the first empirical section, I discuss the inception of a Moroccan diaspora space, examining the factors and strategies that enabled Moroccan migrants to gain a right to the city in the early 1990s. In the second empirical section, through looking at the intersections of economics with culture, I examine how Moroccan migrants have actually produced a diaspora space, and how it has been attributed with new meanings, symbols and practices. Prior to the empirical analysis, I provide a theoretical framework for the paper by examining literature on diaspora, space and the right to the city. I also provide an overview of key historical and contemporary features of Granada and briefly discuss the methodology applied.

Diaspora, space and the right to the city
The notion of diaspora as a field of study can be traced back to the 1980s, as prior to that the word was restricted to describe historical forced exile, specifically the exile of the Jews (Kenny, 2013). However, with the dramatic increase of international migration in recent decades, diaspora has come to be equated with the general dispersal of people around the world (Karla, Kaur, & Hutnyk, 2005). In particular, diasporas are often considered to be the imagined communities of migrants who share a common 'origin' , real or imagined, in a different geographic locale to where they live (Meer, 2014). It is features of 'community' , collective ethnic identity continuation, connection with a 'faraway' homeland and hybridity/ mixing that are often considered to make a migrant diasporic (Adamson & Demetriou, 2007;Kenny, 2013). Therefore, migrants are not inherently diasporic; rather, diaspora is a process (Mavroudi, 2007) and is formed by migrants, or the descendants of migrants, enacting a diaspora stance (Brubaker, 2005). Moreover, diaspora can give the impression of a homogenised population, but they invariably contain significant in-group differences, such as 'race' , gender, sexuality and age (Anthias, 1998;Brah, 1996). Diaspora communities then contain heterogeneous populations that enact certain shared characteristics, both real and imagined.
At the heart of the diaspora condition is the localisation and resettlement of people in 'new' spaces, and subsequently entails practices and strategies of place-making. As put forward by Knott (2010), location(s) and space are of paramount importance for understanding diasporic experiences. Key to this argument is that the diaspora condition is as much about sedentary dwelling in place as it is about travelling and being in transit. The notion of 'diaspora space' , coined by Brah (1996), assists in conceptualising diaspora as a spatial process, which both affects and is affected by space. Diaspora space incorporates the spatiality of migration, and the interactions between the diaspora and the 'host' culture and people. Instead of exploring diasporic processes in a geographic void, and diasporas as separate and bounded entities, diaspora space emphasises that the location of the diaspora, and the interactions between the multiple populations that live there are what construct diasporic identities, belongings, cultures and places.
As the city is the exemplary site of diaspora dwelling (Blunt & Bonnerjee, 2013;Keith, 2005), the urban is a key lens to explore the centrality of space, dwelling and place-making in the diasporic condition. Through diasporic strategies of place-making, urban spaces can be transformed and instilled with new layers of meanings. If we consider 'spaces of representation' (Lefebvre, 1974(Lefebvre, /1991 and 'third spaces' (Soja, 1996) as the spaces of the inhabitant, where cultures and imaginations are imbued into the spatial mix, then the presence of diasporic communities, with their multiple cultural identities, can impact substantially on the meanings instilled in the production of space. For the contemporary city, which is characterised by increased diversity through migration, the settlement and formation of diasporas is a pertinent dimension in how urban space is produced and transformed. Space and its multi-dimensions however also affect our lived experience, and resultantly affect the diasporic experience (Levitt & Jaworsky, 2007). In this light, the spatiality of the city can shape, enable and limit the place-making strategies and lived experience of the diaspora. The cultural-historical configurations of cities and the contemporary and historical flows of people, objects, representations and ideologies in urban spaces generate distinct diaspora spaces and transnational activities. The physical and representational dimensions of urban space, which convey ingrained ideologies and dominant identities of the city, can affect the lived spaces produced by diasporas.
The idea of the 'right to the city' was introduced by Lefebvre (1968Lefebvre ( /1996, and developed by geographers such as David Harvey (2008) and Don Mitchell (2003), and is a useful lens to examine diaspora formations. Scholars have focused on a multitude of rights, such as the right to produce urban life in new terms (Lefebvre, 1968(Lefebvre, /1996, the right to remain unalienated from urban life (Lefebvre, 1968(Lefebvre, /1996, the right to define what public space is (Gibson quoted in Attoh, 2011), the right to use public space (Mitchell, 2003) and the right to design (Van Deusan quoted in Attoh, 2011). Although this multitude of rights creates a rather 'fuzzy concept' (Attoh, 2011), what connects them is an overarching concern with the right to access urban space and the right to produce it to some degree. Therefore, I would argue, the right to the city pertains to forms of spatial and material justice in the city. The focus has primarily been on the rights of the marginalised and oppressed (Marcuse, 2009), but only a relatively small number of scholars have utilised the concept to focus on the urban rights of migrants (Castañeda, 2012;Dikec, 2005;Nicholls & Vermeulen, 2012). These existing studies focus on structural and institutional mechanisms that can assist migrants to achieve a right to the city, such as immigrant rights organisations (Castañeda, 2012) and urban policies (Nicholls & Vermeulen, 2012). Research that explicitly connects the right to the city with diaspora formations is even harder to come by. This is surprising, as in order to produce a visible diaspora space, migrants need to negotiate certain spatial rights, which are conditioned by both the structural context of the city and migrant agency. Thus, achieving urban rights is often at the crux of the formation of diasporas. In broad terms, the rights to form a diaspora space, I argue, include the right to transform and produce urban space and the right to spatialise and display distinctive identities -essentially a right to difference. The extent of the rights achieved and the types of diaspora spaces produced can vary greatly, ranging from large ethnic enclaves such as China towns (Santos, Belhassen, & Caton, 2008) to less visible diasporic networks in peripheral urban streets (Hall, King, & Finlay, 2015). Although the concept refers to a 'right to the city' , for migrants it is often more akin to a 'right to the neighborhood' or a 'right to the street' , due to the frequently disadvantaged and peripheral status of migrants in many cities. The right to the city then is a useful concept to examine how diaspora spaces are produced, why they take certain material forms and why they encompass different spatial scales.

The city of Granada: historical and contemporary reflections
The city of Granada is situated in southern Spain, in the autonomous community of Andalusia, and is the capital of the province of Granada. The city is steeped in a diversity of histories, and especially resonant to this research, it was the last stronghold of Al-Andalus (711-1492), making it greatly emblematic of Spain's Muslim past (Howe, 2012). During the Nasrid Muslim period, Granada flourished as an opulent city and the world-renowned Alhambra Palace was built (Fletcher, 2001). The Albayzín, the traditional Muslim district, greatly flourished and developed under the Nasrid dynasty (Pozo-Felguera, 1999). For 250 years, Granada remained as the last stronghold of Al-Andalus, giving the city a great degree of prominence in Islamic and Christian imaginaries.
In 1492, Granada moved into a new epoch. The Catholic Monarchs, known as Isabel and Ferdinand, finally gained control of the city, signalling the end of Al-Andalus and making Granada the last Muslim principality to have existed in Western Europe (Coleman, 2003). Over the course of the sixteenth century, Granada went through a process of Christianisation and urban transformation (Coleman, 2003;Isac, 2007). The city's political, social, cultural, religious and physical landscape was metamorphosing from a Muslim city into a Christian one. Moreover, this period marked the beginning of the end of the embodied religious diversity in Granada, with Muslims being completely expelled from the Iberian Peninsula in 1609 (Flesler, 2008;Perry, 2008). A paradox of Granada, and Spain in general, is on the one hand, the fact that it has a hybrid and diverse history, but on the other hand, there has been the implementation of a powerful discourse that conveys a bounded and singular notion of religious culture and ethnicity.
For hundreds of years, until the late 1980s, Granada and Spain were not considered to have highly diverse populations, with Spain being a country of net migration rather than a receiving country of immigration (Cornelius, 2004). However, with the country's rapid economic boom in the late 1980s and 1990s, there were gaps in the labour markets and abruptly Spain became an attractive destination for international migrants (Cornelius, 2004). Consequently, Granada's landscape has diversified in the last 30 years, with the arrival of diverse nationalities, ethnicities and religions. The city has transformed into a contemporary multi-cultural space, where a variety of ethnicities live and come into contact. According to government statistics, the migrant population was 16,468 in 2014, corresponding to 7% of the total population (Instituto Nacional de Estadística, 2015). Diasporas from countries such as Morocco, Senegal, Romania, Bolivia and China are now established residents in the city. The Moroccan diaspora is the largest, with a legally registered population of 4077 in 2014, representing 25% of the migrant population (Instituto Nacional de Estadística, 2015).
To bring it up to date, contemporary Granada is a medium-sized city with a multi-cultural population of 237,540 in 2014 (Instituto Nacional de Estadística, 2015). In comparison to cities in the north of Spain, Granada is not considered especially affluent (García-Campos, 2015), and the recent financial crisis has had profound effects on employment and the economy. In 2014, unemployment levels reached 36% in the province of Granada (Granada Digitial, 2014). The city has not greatly industrialised over the last 40 years, with tourism, university education, transport and construction as its main industries (Gay-Armenteros, 2001).
The findings presented in this paper are derived from 8 months of ethnographic fieldwork in Granada during 2013 and 2014. To examine the spatial nature of diaspora formations, I applied a 'go along' (Kusenbach, 2003) street ethnography. This involved observing, interacting and conversing with Moroccan migrants in the numerous shops, cafes, restaurants and street stalls that make up the diaspora space that is contemporary Granada. Four integrated methods were utilised: 'go-along' observations (Kusenbach, 2003), 'informal narrative conversations' , semi-structured interviews and visual methods such as photos and films. The research sample largely consisted of migrants who were born in northern Morocco, specifically the Rif region, and the majority were men. All participants were first-generation migrants (who were born in Morocco) and ranged between the ages of 25 and 50. Although the category of 'migrant' is problematic (Anderson & Blinder, 2017), I decided to utilise the term in the research, as all participants were first-generation migrants who had gone through experiences of migration. This sample, in many ways, is a reflection of who uses the spaces of analysis, which is primarily first-generation migrants rather that the relatively younger second generations (Fieldwork interview, 2014).
Symptomatic of the high number of migrants born in the Rif and surrounding areas is that many participants identified as Berber. The Berbers, also known as the Amazighs, are regarded as the native, nomadic tribes of Morocco and North Africa, and they were greatly significant in the establishment and endurance of Al-Andalus (Flesler, 2008). The majority of participants considered themselves to be Muslim, but there were a wide variety of strains of Islam, with some following the religion in a strict manner, while others considered themselves more culturally Muslim than religiously. It is important to note that when I use the term 'Muslim' in the paper, I am referring to a heterogeneous religious identity, with a wide variety of manifestations. Naturally there was divergence from this sample, with some engagement with women and those from other parts of Morocco and other countries, but men originating from northern Morocco did dominate. Therefore, there is a male bias in the paper, and an absence of women's voices, which is a limitation to the research. However, as previously stated, the sample is a reflection of the Moroccan migrants that inhabit, work and use the streets of analysis, rather than a preordained selection. The streets of the lower Albayzín are gendered spaces then, characterised by a clear male dominance, and did not provide an overt lens into women's experiences. Finally, the quotes used throughout paper have been translated from Spanish into English, and the language is in an everyday, vernacular style. In order to maintain anonymity, all of the names used in this chapter are pseudonyms.

The urban design and history of the lower Albayzín
To begin the empirical sections, I want to provide a brief overview of the urban design and historical nature of the streets where I carried out the ethnography. The research was primarily carried out in a constellation of streets in the lower Albayzín district of Granada -Calle Elvira, Calle Calderería Vieja and Calle Calderería Nueva. The lower Albayzín is a site that is overtly marked by multiple histories, a place where the material landscape has juxtaposed identities, and a material hybridity. The narrow and labyrinth-like nature of these streets is greatly evocative of a North African-style urban Medina, and the Muslim history of Granada is ever present in the design, structure and materiality of these spaces. Clearly, over the years, refurbishments and alterations have taken place to the structure of the buildings, but the core designs and style of the street spaces are akin to the Muslim Medieval times and are a 'rich repository of Moorish vernacular architecture' (UNESCO, 2015). de Certeau (1984), in his analysis of the everyday city, asserts that the ghosts of cities remain even once the bricks and mortar of buildings have been removed. However, in Granada, the ghosts of Al-Andalus do not just exist in the discursive and imaginative constructions of the city; rather, they live in the vernacular streetscapes and built environment of neighbourhoods like the Albayzín. Although the embodied presence of Muslims was ostensibly removed from Granada for hundreds of years, and cultural narratives often disregarded the historical communities of Al-Andalus as invading colonisers (Flesler, 2008), much of the material built environment that emanates from this period remains in the city. Therefore, the spatial identities of Muslim civilisations are omnipresent in the material make up of the core sites of analysis. Conversely, the built environment clearly evokes the plurality of Granada's history, and although the lower Albayzín arouses memories of the Muslim history of Al-Andalus, it simultaneously communicates the Catholic history of the city. For example, the church -La Iglesia de San Gregorio Betico -is perched at the top of Calle Calderería Nueva, and it is communicating a different history, another memory and story. The physical built environment -the 'first space' (Soja, 1996) -of the sites of analysis are dynamic, conveying multiple layers of meaning, and greatly impact on how the contemporary diaspora space is produced. I now look at the initial inception of the diaspora space and examine how Moroccan migrants in the early 1990s firstly gained a right to the city.

Gaining a right to the city: the inception of a diaspora space
Since the early 1990s, the streets of the lower Albayzín have been in a state of transformation, imbued with extra layers of meanings and identities. The catalyst for the transformation is multifaceted, indebted to two simultaneously similar but distinct communities -the Spanish Muslim convert community and the Moroccan diaspora -and the coalescing of specific sociocultural, economic, political and historical factors. The stories and narratives about the gradual transformation of the lower Albayzín are varied, dependent on whom you speak to, but there is a general consensus that the Spanish Muslim convert community and Moroccan diaspora are the crucial drivers of the change. However, in the last 15 years, the Moroccan diaspora and other diasporic communities from Muslim majority countries (Algeria, Egypt etc.) have gained an even greater presence and are now the principal communities in the area. A contemporary diaspora space has been produced and Moroccan migrants have gained a partial 'right' to a Spanish city. Or better put, a 'right' to a central neighbourhood in a Spanish city. Core rights that have been achieved, which I believe are critical for the formation of a diaspora, are the right to produce new socio-spatial patterns and the right to visibly present a collective identity. In a sense, it is the right to be diasporic. In addition, economic rights and the right to participate in a local economy are also of importance. Ultimately, it is the right to produce and participate in the lived urban spaces of Granadathe third space. This I believe has a distinctive quality, as much research asserts that the urban experiences of Moroccan migrants in Spain frequently incorporate high levels of segregation, with many living and working in peripheral districts of cities such as Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia (Mujica, Castellano, & Hernández, 2010;Zapata-Barrero, 2008). Moreover, the ghettoisation of Moroccan migrants in cities around Europe, such as Brussels and Paris, is also frequently reported (Préteceille, 2011), whereas in this paper, I provide a narrative of urban participation that is central, visible and incorporated into the tourism industry of the city. This in not to argue that Moroccan migrants in Granada do not also experience segregation or racism, but there is a level of city participation in Granada that would appear to differ from the pervasive narratives of marginalisation. Moreover, and most importantly, many Moroccan participants in the research perceive the visible participation in Granada as distinctive in comparison to participation in other Spanish and European cities. Consider the following quote from Salma, a Moroccan-born woman: I like Granada more than Malaga [where she used to live] and other places in Spain. I like it more because there is a strong visible presence of Muslims and Moroccans in Granada, and it's an autonomous presence. The Moroccans have their own businesses and really create parts of the city. In Malaga the majority of Moroccans are builders or cleaners, and they work for Spanish companies. So they are not so visible and they don't really form part of the city. You know, having this public presence in Granada gives us more respect. They don't look at us in a strange way like they do in other places in Spain and Europe. (Salma,Female,Morocco,Tetouan,mid 30s) The urban participation for Salma and many other participants is seen as a distinctive feature of the urban experience of Granada and establishes a sense of belonging to the city. As highlighted by Tchoukaleyska (2016), achieving urban rights is considered to impact greatly on the lives of urban dwellers, establishing an enduring sense of involvement and belonging to the city. Therefore, a diasporic right to the city is highly conducive to a diasporic sense of belonging. I now look at the inception of the diaspora space and key factors for migrants initially achieving a right to the lower Albayzín district of Granada.
For a diaspora to form and grow, certain rights and processes need to be achieved and mobilised in the city. Migrants partially enact these rights but the structural context of the urban also conditions how the diaspora is formed. As put forward by a number of scholars, the city and the diaspora interact and mutually construct each other (Blunt & Bonnerjee, 2013;Knott, 2010). Therefore, the early inception of a diaspora and the spatial form it begins to take are highly determined by the conditions of the city. For Moroccan migrants, certain conditions in the lower Albayzín were critical for the initial inception of the diaspora space. In the 1980s, before the first substantial wave of Moroccan migrants' arrivals in the 1990s, Spanish Muslim converts initiated the early changes to Calle Calderería Nueva and Calle Calderería Vieja. A pastry shop on Calle Calderería Vieja, which sells Arab and Maghreb-style pastries, is owned by a Spanish Muslim convert. While visiting his shop, he asserted: This area has changed a lot. It is very different to how it used to be and a lot of that is down to the Moroccans and their businesses. But the initial change, especially with regards to the Islamic feel of the area, was because of the Spanish Muslim converts who opened a few shops and a mosque. You know the mosque just up the street? Converts opened that in the 80s. I've had my shop here for about 14 years and I've seen a lot of change. There are now more Muslims, especially Moroccans. (Pablo, Male, Spain, Granada) For the pastry shop owner, the lower Albayzín's contemporary manifestation is indebted to the early presence of Spanish Muslim converts in the area. The Spanish Muslim presence, especially in the 1980s and early 1990s, was not greatly significant, but it did initiate the contemporary spatialisation of a Muslim identity. Identity, and all its complexity, is at the core of the notion of diaspora (Cohen, 2010), with diaspora identity simultaneously based on collective identity continuation (Adamson & Demetriou, 2007) and hybridity and newness (Hall, 1990). A Muslim identity, which can take a variety of forms and is highly heterogeneous, is a core part of the collective identity of many Moroccan migrants in the research. Thus, the right to display and practice Islam is significant to the formation of the diaspora. The pre-existing spatialisation of a contemporary Muslim identity provided Moroccan migrants a space where their Muslim identity was well accommodated. Essentially, it was a space where there was a high level of tolerance to a visible Muslim presence, which is not often the case for new Muslim migrant communities in European cities (Kuppinger, 2014).
Additionally, the built environment contained a historic Muslim symbolism, which was also influential for the initial establishment of the diaspora in these areas. In the following quote, the director of a local Mosque asserts the importance of the history and built environment: The heritage of Al-Andalus is always present for Moroccans and Muslims in this part of the city. It is in the buildings and streets and it cannot be erased, which is a powerful thing for us. In fact, the choice of this site [the lower Albayzín] for the mosque and shop owners is because it is like the way Moroccans live in Moroccan cities, and it is historically where the Muslims lived in Granada … (Director of a local Mosque, Male, Moroccan-Spanish) For the director of the mosque, the Muslim design and symbolism that still exist in the lower Albayzín are key factors for the presence of the Moroccan diaspora in these areas. He highlights that the area mirrors the designs of Moroccan cities and communicates the Muslim history to the diaspora. He also asserts that it is an area where Moroccan migrants can claim a sense of connection to the past, which is greatly powerful for having a sense of identification and belonging to place (Hayden, 1995;Yeoh & Kong, 1996). The pre-existing symbolic architecture, I argue, is a characteristic that partly differentiates this space from classic diaspora spaces such as Chinatowns in North America and Europe. In Chinatowns, the symbolic diasporic architecture is the result of the place-making strategies of migrants and subsequent generations (Santos et al., 2008), while the lower Albayzín contained a built environment that spatialised -to some degree -the identity of a Moroccan diaspora prior to their migration and settlement. The early arrivals of the diaspora encountered a space that had a pre-existing socio-religious and cultural significance. It contained a built environment that symbolically resonated with Moroccan migrants and a small contemporary Muslim presence, albeit a Spanish one. If we consider the right to spatialise certain cultural and socio-religious identities as central for the formation of diasporas, then these pre-existing material and embodied identities were highly conducive to the production of the diaspora space in the lower Albayzín.
Financial precariousness and structural inequalities embedded in the urban fabric frequently require migrants and diasporas to find a foothold in the city (Hall, King, & Finlay, 2017), such as access to cheap and underused properties. It is urban spaces that are underused and ripe for transformation that are most readily accessible to the formation of 'new' diasporas. Consequently, diaspora is frequently an incremental way of making anew and revitalising underused urban space. For Moroccan migrants, these factors were highly pertinent in the initial and gradual inception of the diaspora space. In the 1980s and early 1990s, when the first significant wave of Moroccan migrants was arriving in Granada, the lower Albayzín was also considered to be underused and run down, as asserted in the following quote: Historically this zone, this neighborhood, was practically abandoned and it was the Muslims and immigrants that have given it life once again. There was a period when it was almost completely abandoned. The houses and everything were empty … it was an area of delinquency and robberies, all of that happened much more in the past, but now with our presence it is much more safe and healthy. (Director of a local Mosque, Male, Moroccan-Spanish) This quote stresses that the streets were inhabited and perceived in a very different way to now, highlighting the spatial transformation that has occurred. Before the settlement of the diaspora, and the gradual transformation of the streets, the dominant perceptions were areas of delinquency and abandonment. Consequently, the area was not considered expensive to invest in. Properties were cheap to rent or buy, therefore making it possible for migrants to gain a presence in the area, as asserted by a Moroccan shop owner on Calle Calderería Nueva: The area was not in a very good way, so it was cheap for us to rent or buy properties on the street. A lot of the shops are small, some of them are like the size of a garage, so it was cheap to rent them. At first there was only a few properties owned by Moroccans, but over time, more and more Moroccans and Muslims opened businesses here. (Driss, Male, Northern Morocco) Forming the diaspora was an incremental process, emerging over time as Moroccan migrants acquired more properties and gained more of a presence in the area. The diasporic right to the city then should be understood as a gradually acquired right, which emerges over time through the interplay of the city and the ingenuity and creativity of migrants.
In addition to the favourable economic conditions of the streets, political influence, such as local government regulation, would appear to have had little influence over the early production of the diaspora space. The neglected nature of these streets, I would argue, demonstrates that local government regulation or investment was not focused on these parts of the city. It was an area that was central, but nonetheless marginalised, and partially outside the eyes of power. Paradoxically, this lack of local government interest was another favourable condition for the diaspora. As highlighted in the work on highly diverse streets in the UK by Hall et al. (2017), spaces that are not overly regulated can function as a foothold to the city for new migrants. It allows diasporas to gain a presence and take shape with little interference from the local government, reducing complications and costs.
The diaspora, along with the Spanish Muslim converts, had found underused and neglected parts of the city, which were ripe for change and transformation. Diaspora then can be understood as a process of transformation, a way to revitalise space, and this is what began to happen in the lower Albayzín. The valuable heritage of Al-Andalus had become neglected, buried under the economic struggles that had consumed the city during much of the Franco dictatorship in the twentieth century. However, in the 1990s, Granada was changing, economically and socially, and the diaspora played an important role in the transformation of the city. An interest in heritage was growing (Ashworth, Graham, & Tunbridge, 2007). Cities such as Granada were attracting an ever increasing number of tourists, and the diaspora found an opportunity to carve out a presence in the city that would assist in satisfying this tourism demand.
Ultimately, for a diaspora to grow and develop, the city needs to provide a foothold in order to access and gain the right to certain spaces. In Granada, a constellation of sociocultural, economic, political and historical factors was key to the initial right to the city gained by Moroccan migrants, and the inception of a contemporary diaspora space. The place-making strategies of Moroccan migrants have also been central to the right to the city and the formation of a diaspora space. I now draw from ethnographic data and examine what sort of diaspora space has been produced, and how the streets of the lower Albayzín have been attributed with new meanings, symbols and practices. This is moving the analysis to the third space (Soja, 1996), the lived space, where inhabitants imbue spaces with further meanings and cultures.

Moroccan-produced spaces of commerce, religion and diasporic community
Since the initial presence of the Moroccan diaspora and Spanish Muslim convert community in the late 1980s early 1990s, there has been a continuous increase in the presence of Moroccan and migrant businesses and people. The streets of the lower Albayzín now have such a visible Moroccan presence, they are often referred to as 'little Morocco' (Rogozen-Soltar, 2007) or according to Doubleday and Coleman (2008) 'Moorishland' . A Moroccan diaspora space has been well and truly established, demonstrating the substantive right to the city Moroccan migrants have achieved in this area of Granada. As diasporas incorporate inner-group differences (Brah, 1996), it is important to consider who does the diaspora space and the right to the city incorporate and who does it leave out. Both men and women of the diaspora have a presence and participate in the lower Albayzín, but as stated previously, the male presence does dominate. Therefore, the diasporic right to the city should be seen as partly limited, speaking more to the experiences of male Moroccan migrants.
Although the size of the area is relatively modest, encompassing a number of streets rather than a whole neighbourhood, it does provide an important narrative of Moroccan and Muslim diasporic urban participation that is central and visible. In the true sense of a diaspora space, it is a site inhabited by multiple ethnicities, both those considered native and those considered diasporian. There is a presence of migrants from countries such as Algeria, Iraq and Syria and there are also businesses run by people considered as 'native' Spaniards. Nonetheless, the Moroccan diaspora is the most substantial, having the greatest influence on the contemporary production of the space, hence the area being labelled 'little Morocco' . Although there are other relatively substantial migrant communities in Granada such as the Chinese and the Senegalese, I would argue that the lower Albayzín is the only significant area that could be labelled as a cohesive diaspora space or 'ethnic enclave' . For example, the Senegalese presence that I observed was primarily mobile and precarious through informal street trading and the Chinese presence was more fragmented through running convenience stores in a variety of locations around the city.
The place-making practices of Moroccan migrants have created a dynamic and multifunctional space, serving a number of different purposes and needs, including tourism, consumption, religion and diasporic community formation. However, I would argue, the most significant dimension for the diaspora inhabiting this area is the space that is produced for commerce, specifically the consumption needs of tourists, and that is what I primarily focus on in this paper. The sociocultural and religious functions of the space are, in many respects, symptomatic of the economic strategies. I now examine how the diaspora has produced spaces for commerce, specifically tourism, and imbued the streets with specific meanings and aesthetic qualities. Granada is often considered to be the most emblematic city of Al-Andalus in Spain (Howe, 2012), with the urban landscape marked by Muslim monuments such as the Alhambra, and the local authorities have utilised this diverse history to promote and brand the city. For example, recent initiatives include the 2013 rebranding of the city through the millennium commemorations of the foundation of the first kingdom of Granada in 1013 (La Fundación del Reino de Granada, 2013). The first kingdom of Granada was an independent Muslim sovereignty, and the city rebranded itself through the great diversity of people who inhabited the city during and since that period. As a result, contemporary Granada is arguably where there is most demand in Spain to consume and experience the history of Al-Andalus (Calderwood, 2014). As highlighted in the previous quotes, the diaspora is acutely aware of the tourism demand to see symbols, images and bodies that are evocative of Granada's Muslim past. Consequently, they have strategically appropriated and (re)claimed the heritage of Al-Andalus, displaying it as part of their identity. Drawing from the work of sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (1986), I want to argue that the Moroccan diaspora, to some extent, has appropriated the heritage of Al-Andalus and strategically gained a right to the city through mobilising a powerful orientalised cultural capital. According to Bourdieu (1986), cultural capital appears in three states: embodied, objectified and institutionalised. For the diaspora, it is the embodied and objectified states that have been powerfully mobilised. Cultural capital in the embodied state is transmitted in bodily behaviour, speaking and appearance. Cultural capital, in the objectified state, refers to objects, i.e. material culture. Through the ownership of material objects, objectified cultural capital is transmitted by the 'symbolic' value that is associated with the object. Bourdieu importantly points out that the capital properties of the objectified state are only mobilised 'in the relationship with cultural capital in its embodied form ' (1986, p. 247). The embodied and objectified states intersect in the transmission of cultural capital. For example, the embodied behaviour of the owner or consumer of a material object impacts the cultural capital transmitted, and vice versa.

'Strategic Self-Orientalism': presenting the past in the present
For the diaspora, the deployment of an embodied and objectified cultural capital has involved a form of 'strategic self-orientalism' (Umbach & Wishnoff, 2008). Orientalism, a concept coined by Said (1978), generally refers to Western discursive practices of representing the non-West, often in a way that perpetuates simplistic stereotypes. However, in the more nuanced 'post-orientalist' narratives, conceptualisations of orientalism are exploring the agency of 'Othered' subjects in the lived, material world (Haldrup & Larsen, 2010). Strategicself orientalism, a concept that fits in the school of 'post-orientalist' thought, is when subjects participate in processes of self-orientalising as a strategy to achieve certain economic, social, cultural or spatial objectives. Through a material and sensory aesthetic, and embodiment, the diaspora has produced an overtly orientalised space, conveying a 'hyperreal' symbolism that alludes to the history of Al-Andalus, and more generally, the non-Western world. In so doing, the diaspora space satisfies tourist demands to consume and experience cultural difference and heritage. The diaspora's cultural capital, albeit in this exaggerated self-orientalised form, fits with a significant historical image of the city, assisting them to gain a right to have a presence in the city, to display an orientalised identity and participate in the local economy. The diaspora have appropriated discourses of orientalism, and have asserted their agency in its production. This manifestation of post-orientalism demonstrates that the diaspora is not simply a passive subject in how orientalism functions. Rather, they have seized control of its production, and have reoriented how it is deployed and for what benefits. I now look more closely at the orientalist strategies employed by the diaspora.
The aesthetics of a diaspora, especially when imbued into vernacular spaces, are considered a powerful resource for migrants. As Werbner and Fumanti point out, diaspora aesthetics is the 'medium through which diasporians enact their felt autonomy while laying claims to "ownership" of the places and nations in which they settle ' (2013, p. 149). Diaspora then is very much about an aesthetic and material process of making and transformation, which is the outcome of multi-sensory place-making strategies. A right to produce the aesthetic and multi-sensory qualities of urban space is key to the formation of diasporas. The outcome of diaspora aesthetics though, is not necessarily about authenticity to a 'homeland' culture, but rather it is a merging of different ways of doing and making, emanating from varied locations, in order to achieve certain rights. Through aesthetics, diasporas can appropriate local spaces, which engender a sense of belonging to the diasporic community and the place they have settled (Werbner & Fumanti, 2013).
For the Moroccan diaspora this is certainly the case. The aesthetic production of space, which intersects with economic strategies, is critical for the diasporic appropriation of the streets in the lower Albayzín, and the formation of a cohesive diaspora and diaspora space. As previously stated though, it is an aesthetic that is developed through processes of self-orientalism, rather than attempting to create a faithful reflection of 'homeland' culture. A key intersection of the economic and aesthetic strategies is the mobilisation of a powerful visual material culture. The material culture of space, i.e. commodities, things, objects, is considered to significantly impact spatial/social practices, and culture more broadly (Jackson, 2000;Lees, 2002;Woodward, 2007). It is argued that people construct meaning through material objects. Walking around the lower Albayzín is a visual bombardment of oriental material culture and symbolism. The objects, commodities and symbols of the businesses have encroached onto the public space of the street, blurring the distinction between the spaces of business and the public space of the street. A walk along these streets, even without entering one of the businesses, invariably involves a visual and sensory experience of diversity and diasporic culture. The artisan gift shops, teterías (teashops), food establishments and street traders, which are the primary businesses of the diaspora in the streets, display an overt symbolism of the orient and the non-Western world. Akin to the symbolism conveyed by other tourism diaspora spaces such as Chinatowns (Santos et al., 2008), the exotic is a core component of the imagery of the lower Albayzín. However, as I will discuss later in this section, what differentiates the exotic orientalism in the lower Albayzín compared to the exotic in spaces such as Chinatowns is it is both in place and out of place.
The artisan gift shops, a ubiquitous feature of the lower Albayzín, are predominantly small properties, displaying a great array of products. In some of the shops the workers asserted that all the objects for sale were from Morocco, while in other shops the attendants explained that the goods were not just from Morocco but a number of non-Western and 'oriental' countries. For example, one Moroccan shop attendant stated: There is stuff from all over. Look those ceramics are from Morocco, the other ones there are from Granada, the small boxes are from Egypt, and the clothes are from India and Nepal. (Mustafa, Male, Morocco) In numerous shops there are objects that just convey a sense of the orient and the 'other' , which have no clear symbolism to Morocco and Al-Andalus heritage. For example, in one shop there was a selection of Nepalese embroidered patchwork bags. There were also colourful cotton shirts and kaftans that originated from Turkey, and small ornate boxes made in Pakistan. Thus, material objects selected for the shops are not all necessarily conveying a Moroccan sense of place and identity. Rather, there is an attempt through certain material objects to just convey a general sense of the exotic non-West. This, I would suggest, is indicative of the orientalism that is being enacted. It is a process of providing anything that appears to be stereotypically symbolic of the world outside of Europe and North America. Nonetheless, a significant amount of material objects do play with symbolisms of Morocco, the Maghreb and the Arab world at large. For example, common products in a number of shops include Arab/Moroccan-style tea sets and hookah/shisha pipes that are commonly smoked in North African and Arab Countries.
The tetería -Muslim/Arab-style tearooms -is another ubiquitous economic strategy in the lower Albayzín, hence why Calle Calderaría Nueva is often nicknamed the 'street of teterías ' (McMath, 2016). The interior and exterior design and materiality of a number of these teterías are a further construction and bombardment of oriental symbolism. Tetería As-Sirat is a small property half way up Calle Calderería Nueva, and attracts a fairly consistent flow of customers. To enter the property you go through a wooden door designed with Arabic scripture and designs. The floors inside are tiled and on the walls are Islamic geometric patterns. The windows looking out onto the street are Arabic designed and have the archetypal arch design and shutters with Islamic patterns. The different rooms inside the Tetería are separated by arch structures, which again are designed with Islamic arrangements and Arabic scripture. The Moroccan staff in Tetaría Ali baba, situated at the top end of Calle Calderería Nueva, were invariably dressed in Moroccan babouche slippers, Fez-style hats and Djellaba Berber robes. Clothing is a symbolic expression of nationality and ethnicity (Edensor, 2002), accentuating the oriental body of the Moroccan workers in the Tetería. The amalgamation of the diasporic body with a certain style of clothing, and the powerful symbolism that this can produce, exemplifies how cultural capital in its objectified form (material objects) is further mobilised with cultural capital in the embodied form. The coalescing of the imagined notion of a Moroccan body, Moroccan materiality (clothing and objects) and Moroccan performativity mobilises a powerful cultural capital for the diaspora. It imbues the space of the tetería and the streets of the lower Albayzín with an oriental identity, which evokes the heritage of Al-Andalus. The materialised oriental identity caters to a popular tourism desire to experience the Muslim past of Granada, contributing to a key tourism imaginary being promoted by the city, which has assisted the diaspora to appropriate urban space.
Another economic and spatial strategy that is pervasive around the lower Albayzín is the street vendor. In Granada, the informal economy of street vending has a visible presence, encapsulating much of the city centre. During my frequent walks along the principal streets of Carrera de la Virgen, Puerta Real, Los Reyes Catolicos and Plaza Nueva, I would often see numerous vendors, predominately Senegalese migrants, selling a variety of products such as umbrellas, sunglasses, DVDs and leather-style bags. The Moroccan and North African diasporic street vendors principally gather in the streets around the lower Albayzín, Plaza Nueva and the Alcaicería -the areas with an overtly visible Moroccan presence and a high number of tourists. The service most frequently offered by the street vendors is to write names in Arabic on ornately deigned cards for 1 euro. The street vendors are strategically offering oriental aesthetics, fitting with the oriental identity of the majority of retail properties on the street. The vendors who write names in Arabic are utilising language and writing skills that they have brought with them from Morocco-and Arabic-speaking countries. It is the mobilisation of a cultural capital, which fits with the Al-Andalus history of the city, allowing them to gain access to the lucrative tourism economy of the city. The vendors have found a business that does not require a fixed property; rather, they find spaces on the open streets that are not being used, and temporarily appropriate them. It is an ephemeral right to the city, an informal right to the local economy. However, due to the informal nature of the street vending, it is a precarious form of business. The following extract is from a conversation with Ryan, a street vendor from northern Morocco, who writes names in Arabic: Researcher: Are there a lot of tourists that want their names in Arabic?
Ryan: Yeah it is not so bad. There is quite a lot of business, especially on sunny days like today.
Researcher: So people like the Arabic writing?
Ryan: Yeah they do. A lot of tourists want to see Moroccan and Arab style things in the city. It is because of the history, because Arabs used to live here, so they like this type of thing.
Researcher: Do you have any problems with the police or the council working on the street like this?
Ryan: Yeah we have problems with the police. We have to keep our eye out for them. Some come by and don't care but others take all our stuff and give us a fine. These days the fine is about 130 euros, so we have to be quite careful. If I don't see the police coming, hopefully my friend doing the same thing over there [other side of the street] will. The police have definitely become stricter about this in recent years.
In this extract, two important issues are discussed. Firstly, the vendor points out that tourists want to see a Moroccan and Arabic aesthetic due to the history of Al-Andalus and Arabic writing and calligraphy are part of that aesthetic. Therefore, through an ability to write names in Arabic, migrants have found a relatively cost-effective way of accessing the local economy. Secondly, the vendor points out that the street vending is a precarious use of urban space as it can result in confiscation of equipment and fines from the police. The vendors are constantly balancing the opportunity to informally engage in the local economy and the possibility of being fined by the local authorities. It would seem the precariousness of possibly being fined is mitigated by the opportunity to access the lucrative spaces of tourism and commerce.
Adding to the visual materiality of the streets, the tastes, smells and sounds that emanate from diasporic and Muslim businesses create a multi-sensory oriental experience. The senses -touch, taste, smell, hearing and sight -are considered to significantly influence our everyday geographical experiences (Davidson & Milligan, 2004;Rodaway, 1994;Wise, 2010). They are seen to play an important role in our relationship to the world, and in themselves they play a role in constructing and defining places and spaces. Werbner and Fumanti assert that diaspora aesthetics are rich sensuously, and that diasporians create spaces of 'multiple sensorial experiences' (2013, p. 156). As Rhys-Taylor points out, 'the noses and taste buds have been integral to the articulation of diasporic identities and the reproduction of ethicized social spaces amidst the experience of dislocation ' (2013, p. 394). Diaspora then is a multi-sensory process of place-making, and finding and producing spaces where migrants have the right to articulate certain symbolisms, smells, sounds and tastes is partly how diasporas are formed. The sensory experience of the lower Albyazín is hyper-intense, involving a bombardment of stimulating sights, sounds, smells and tastes. The tastes of mint tea, spiced meat and falafel, the olfactory experience of spices, mint, incense, the sounds of Moroccan dialect, Arabic language and North African music all coalesce with the material visuality to create a hyper-sensory oriental experience. According to Mehta (2013), an expert on the urban street, the hyper-sensory experience is what typifies the 'oriental street' , and this is certainly how the streets of the lower Albayzín are often experienced.
This section has demonstrated that the diasporic place-making strategies such as artisan gift shops, teterías and street vendors all utilise multi-sensory aesthetics to strategically orientalise the streets around the lower Albayzín. The Moroccan and Muslim body (embodied) and the oriental aesthetics (objectified) jointly produce a powerful cultural capital, assisting the diaspora to appropriate urban space and gain a right to the lower Alabyzín. Diasporas therefore are a multi-sensory process and involve the spatialisation of multi-sensory aesthetics. The scale of the spatialisation can vary greatly, from shop to street to neighbourhood, but multi-sensory aesthetics invariably functions as a core component in the formation of diasporas. The objects, designs and sensory experiences that the Moroccan diaspora utilise are both in place and out of place. Material culture and sensory experiences are understood and conceived with regard to geographical knowledge about where they belong (Edensor, 2002). Diasporic material culture is normatively understood to be out of place, which can be both enabling and restraining for the diaspora. However, the aesthetic material culture of the Moroccan diaspora simultaneously evokes a sense of another place, primarily Morocco and the Maghreb, and as a result of the Muslim history of Al-Andalus evokes a sense of being in place. The fact that the oriental aesthetic is interpreted to be partly in place is why the diaspora has found a powerful cultural capital in Granada. Unlike diaspora spaces that emerge as a result of different generations of migrants gradually embedding themselves in a local area, the Moroccan diaspora space is partly a manifestation of the appropriation of a medieval history, making it seem both in place and out of place. Making it seem foreign and native. Ultimately, the historical and contemporary context of Granada has intersected with the economic and cultural strategies of Moroccan migrants and generated the contemporary diaspora space of the lower Albayzín.

Conclusion
In Granada, Moroccan migrants have achieved a diasporic right to the city, and have produced a visible self-orientalised diaspora space. This is the result of certain features of Granada's sociocultural, economic, political and historical landscape interacting with the economic and cultural strategies of the Moroccan diaspora, exemplifying how the contexts of cities and diasporic communities interact and mutually construct urban space. The overarching contribution of the paper is that it empirically highlights how the formation of diasporas is frequently dependent on migrants achieving certain rights to the city and that the rights achieved are highly conditioned by the urban structural context. The analytical purchase of the notion of a diasporic right to the city is that it refocuses the lens of analyses on why and how migrants achieve varied forms of urban participation, and through connecting it to ideas of diaspora, it can shed light on how migrants form diasporas and the role the urban plays in diaspora formations. I now make two final comments about the notion of a diasporic right to the city and the Moroccan diaspora space in Granada. First, for a diaspora to take shape and form, certain urban rights and processes need to be mobilised and achieved. These are partly enacted by migrants or descendants of migrants, but they are also highly dependent on the urban context. As diaspora is a spatial and frequently urban process (Brah, 1996;Knott, 2010), access to urban space and the right to transform and produce are are highly pertinent to diaspora formations. Resultantly, diaspora should be seen as process that can revitalise and renew urban space. For diasporas to initially take shape, favourable urban conditions that provide a foothold to the city are frequently required. A constellation of sociocultural, economic, political and historical characteristics of the lower Albayzín provided a foothold for Moroccan migrants and partly enabled the early inception of the Moroccan diaspora space. For example, the underused and under regulated nature of the area allowed Moroccan migrants to buy and rent properties at low costs with little interference from local government regulation. The right to spatialise and materialise a collective migrant identity is another core factor in the formation of diasporas. Thus, the pre-existing Muslim identity of the lower Albayzín also provided a foothold, as it made the area relatively accommodating to a core identity of many Moroccan migrants.
Second, intersecting with the urban context is the place-making strategies of migrants, which contribute -or possibly limit -the diasporic right to the city. To form a diaspora, place-making strategies incorporate multi-sensory aesthetic and material processes (Crang, 2010;Werbner & Fumanti, 2013). Thus, a right to produce the aesthetic and multi-sensory qualities of urban space is key to the formation of diasporas. Through aesthetic practices, a collective diasporic identity can be imbued into urban space, which can engender a sense of belonging to the diasporic community and the place they have settled (Werbner & Fumanti, 2013). The outcome of diaspora aesthetics, though, is not necessarily about authenticity to a 'homeland' culture, but rather it is a merging of different ways of doing and making, emanating from varied locations, in order to achieve certain rights. Moroccan migrants were acutely aware of the context of Granada, utilising it in their place-making strategies to gain a right to produce and transform the lower Albayzín. Through a strategically self-orientalised aesthetic, the history of Al-Andlaus has been partly appropriated, resulting in a highly visible and central diaspora space.