An unapologetic cultural trespasser

Casey Lartigue Jr., right, speaks on a panel along with North Korean refugees Kim Myeong-hee, second from right, and Choi Leo, and professor Rahul Raj, left, August 14. Courtesy of Freedom Speakers International

During a recent online discussion with fellow Harvard alumni about cultural appropriation, one woman shared her dilemma. An Indian friend gave her a sari, a traditional draped garment worn by women in South Asia, but as a white woman, she was afraid to wear it. She asked the group, “What do you think? Should I wear it?” The responses were sympathetic but cautious, until I unequivocally urged her to wear it without apology.

Another Harvard alumna confessed to owning a dashiki, a brightly colored West African garment, a gift from a friend she couldn’t bring herself to wear in public. Her fear? Being Asian, she could be branded as a cultural appropriator by strangers for wearing an African garment.

I am not surprised by their dilemmas. The self-appointed cultural appropriation police have created an environment where people are paralyzed by the possibility of giving offense by wearing items from other cultures. Cultural appropriation is said to be the act of using elements of another culture in a way perceived as disrespectful or exploitative. The term cultural appropriation began to be used in the 1970s by activists criticizing non-indigenous artists and fashion designers for using traditional designs without “permission.”

More recently, Kim Kardashian faced backlash after she was accused of appropriating and profiting from Black hairstyle by wearing cornrows. Adele was criticized for wearing Bantu knots and a Jamaican flag bikini top at the Notting Hill Carnival. Selena Gomez was accused of cultural appropriation for wearing a bindi during performances. Justin Bieber received criticism for wearing dreadlocks (he later cut them off).

In addition to celebrities, another favorite whipping boy of critics of alleged cultural appropriation are tourists. Most people seem to love to travel, yet somehow the traveler who buys and wears items from another culture is accused of buying trinkets, being superficial, and even exploitive. Critics argue this dynamic commodifies culture or strips it of meaning, but overlooks the reality many artisans see tourism as an opportunity to share their heritage while sustaining their livelihoods.

Others targeted by critics of alleged cultural appropriation include fashion designers, musicians, chefs and food bloggers, public figures, influencers, brand name companies, everyday people at festivals, sports teams and fans, actors and filmmakers, authors and storytellers, etc.

The result of five decades of complaints about alleged cultural appropriation is now even everyday people worry they are engaging in it. The self-anointed critics of cultural appropriation seem especially acute among Westerners. For many, it has become performative sensitivity, a display of cultural awareness doing little to benefit the communities they claim to protect.

While some Asians voice concerns about cultural borrowing, such as Koreans criticizing Chinese people for wearing hanbok, or Japanese adaptations of kimchi, such complaints often reflect lingering historical conflicts.

During the Harvard alumni meeting, I announced: I am an unapologetic cultural trespasser. I’m comfortable wearing a hanbok, a dashiki, or an angavastra. Yes, an Indian angavastra. I had never heard of it before I received it as a gift from Dr. Anthony Raju on behalf of the All India Council on Human Rights, Liberties, and Social Justice. I am still not sure how to pronounce angavastra.

Freedom Speakers International (FSI) received the Global Peace Award — Freedom of Speakers — from the All India Council on Human Rights, Liberties, and Social Justice on December 10, 2024, in New Delhi, India. Photo courtesy of Freedom Speakers International

Cultural appropriation critics would likely condemn my initial ignorance. One of the first demands of critics of cultural appropriation is anyone engaging with other cultures must first become an expert in their historical and cultural context.

But should cultural appreciation require a PhD level of knowledge in cultural studies? Can’t we just enjoy things from around the world without needing to pass a cultural exam? By the logic of alleged cultural appropriation, people shouldn’t eat bulgogi without understanding its history and cooking methods or listen to jazz without studying the socioeconomic conditions creating it.

My recommended approach to self-anointed critics of alleged cultural appropriation: Put restrictions on yourself if you so choose, but don’t impose them on others. I am human before I am a member of any particular culture.

I am writing this from New Delhi, India. I am again wearing the angavastra I received when Freedom Speakers International (FSI) received a Global Peace Award on December 10, 2024. This time, during a special VIP dinner in New Delhi, I received an Indian shawl from Dr. June Ann, a leading human rights activist in India. Would she advise me not to wear it?

And when I spoke at events this week in New Delhi, I wore the angavastra again. My advice to people who receive gifts from friends: Think about the friend who gave you the gift, not the strangers who may stare or glare. As the old saying goes, “Those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

The Indian woman who gave the sari to the Harvard alumna surely wouldn’t have been offended if her friend wore it. Would she really say, “Here’s a gift I hope you enjoy — just don’t wear it.”

The people of the internet, activists and academics make snap judgments at seeing someone wearing a sari or angavastra, without knowing the context.

The critics of alleged cultural appropriation have created a paradox: In trying to protect cultures from exploitation, they’ve made people afraid to wear gifts from friends. The Harvard alumni weren’t celebrities profiting from other traditions or tourists collecting superficial souvenirs. They are individuals paralyzed by fear of making mistakes. In contrast, I plan to wear the angavastra as I emcee Freedom Speakers International’s 22nd English Speech Contest on Sept. 6.

My fellow Harvard alumni with their unworn gifts embody a tragedy of good intentions gone wrong. Their closets hold garments capable of sparking conversation and honoring friendships, yet they remain hidden, casualties of a cultural climate that mistakes protection for prohibition.