The Bangladeshi Brick Lane: London’s Bilingual Heart Faces an Uncertain Future

On a rainy Thursday afternoon, you can still smell cardamom as you stroll down Brick Lane before you even see the restaurants. Near the corner of Fournier Street, a boy haphazardly distributes laminated menus in the manner of someone who has performed a task a thousand times. A barber watches tourists take pictures of a mural while leaning against his storefront two doors down. Depending on which end of the street you are on, it can feel strangely quiet or extremely noisy.

This section of East London has supported more communities than most postcodes could sustain for decades. Jewish refugees, French Huguenots, Irish dockworkers, and, starting in the 1940s, Bengali seafarers whose contracts had been essentially abandoned by the British shipping industry. They came here because the rent was inexpensive and, to be honest, no one else was interested in these streets. The building at number 59, which started out as a Huguenot chapel in 1742, changed its name to a synagogue in 1898, and has been a mosque since 1976, is one example of how this history is now woven into the bricks themselves. One roof, three faiths, no fuss.

The most recent chapter is not as giving. A committee of the Tower Hamlets Council approved plans earlier this week to turn the historic Truman Brewery, which was constructed in 1666 and was once one of the biggest breweries in the world, producing India Pale Ale for British Raj soldiers, into a shopping center and corporate office block. Over 7,000 people voiced their opposition. The Bengali East End Heritage Society took issue. The local Labour MP, Apsana Begum, agreed, tweeting later that the East End’s cultural vibrancy should never have been exchanged for money. In any case, the council voted in favor.

Pausing on that number is worthwhile. Seven thousand objections is a chorus, not a petition. Furthermore, the fact that it barely altered anything says something about how these kinds of decisions are typically made in London these days. Strong language was used by activists from Nijjormanush, the group spearheading the campaign, to characterize the vote as a “dereliction of duty”—it didn’t seem out of place when I read it. Speaking with those who have lived here for many generations gives me the impression that the consultation process is akin to theater. The screenplay has already been written.

The part that sticks with you are the numbers on the curry houses. In the mid-2000s, there were sixty eateries on one street. Twenty-three by 2018. The pandemic, the Vibe Bar’s closure in 2014, and the new overground stations that subtly diverted foot traffic from the southern end in 2010 and 2011 were all contributing factors. Curry Bazaar’s twenty-year-old owner, Mohamed, told Al Jazeera that the new shopping center might attract people to the area, but only to the shopping center, not to him. Most likely, he is correct. Rarely does mall traffic stray.

According to one study, Brick Lane is gentrifying more quickly than any other area of the city. The families who built the street are pushed sideways into Whitechapel or farther out as the rent increases and chains move in. It’s difficult to ignore the fact that those who are most vocal about “preserving London’s character” are rarely the ones whose character is being preserved. Whether the new development will deliver the regeneration its backers promise is genuinely unclear. Who pays for it in the interim is less ambiguous.

Brick Lane won’t go away. Seldom do streets like this change; instead, the old name is preserved as decoration. However, the question that looms over the next five years is whether the Bengali community that gave the street a second lease on life will continue to support it. It’s difficult to confidently respond to that question at the moment.