A discussion of cultural appropriation often begets one of two extreme reactions. The first is a denial of any possibility of cultural exchange outside the original culture. The second often comes in the form of a cringe-worthy whitesplain of the – to paraphrase – ‘globalised marketplace of shared cultural ideas’. Both these approaches feed into a problematic binary, blind to both meaning and context. Both stifle vital discourse and debate. To even begin to consider what circumstances warrant either reaction, we must first consider culture itself as a concept.
As a vague term, ‘culture’ is tossed around nonchalantly. Our conceptions of it are imposed upon people to superficially categorise, or to distort or undermine expectations within a given context. These conceptions may set the standard for what we perceive the norm to be, so that anything outside our periphery is deemed to be outside that “culture”, and anything within goes unquestioned in the name of cultural sensitivity. This is reductive at best, deeply problematic at worst.
Culture, in some sense, is a group of practices or beliefs, which are rarely static. In another sense, it is a collectivised setting that bonds people beyond family circles. Yet not everyone within a culture itself will experience it similarly.
To demonstrate the complexity of ‘cultures’ in practice, consider Hinduism and how it is conceptualised and performed.’ Hinduism is a religion. However, its extensive history, its immersion into the everyday lives of many Indians, and original influence over the land mass that is now secular, multi religious India, deems it as influential as a culture. Yet the regressive and pervasive caste system still mandates who enjoys what aspects of this culture. This caste system is one which was outlawed during British colonisation, but continues to exist under blanketed euphemisms. It considers untouchables to be ‘Dalits’, ‘Scheduled Castes’ or ‘Harijans (Children of god)’. It is only ‘Brahmins’, the upmost caste, who can practice Hindu religion within certain temples and contribute to the discourse and direction of its operation. Lower castes, as dictated by social pressures, are unable to practice their religion and culture during particular times and within certain establishments. In this context, culture is neither universally accessible nor homogenously practiced. It is experienced differently by those within it. This can be attributed to both the hierarchies within a belief system, as well as the meanings attached to cultural symbols as a result of these power structures. This specific example illustrates the reason that it is so very complicated to regard certain symbols and practices sacred to just that one “culture”.
Why then, is there such a modern stigma connected to the appropriation, or as some consider, the appreciation, of cultural symbols and practices? When does appreciation become appropriation? Can a practice be appropriated? Does appreciation without the appropriation exist?
It is impossible to answer all these questions. I do not possess a comprehensive understanding of all cultures and their practices and symbols. I do not even possess a complete understanding of my family’s roots and culture. If I did, I would still be unable to speak for the entire community. What I can offer however is a consideration of how we should approach cultural materials without commodifying or exploiting them.
a) Does the use of the symbol maintain its cultural meaning, and is there respect for the culture it originates from?
Blatant ignorance for a culture outside of the dominant Judeo-Christian, Anglo-normative paradigm usually results in appropriation. Context is important. When you wear a South-Asian, typically Hindu inspired Bindi, are you doing so in the setting of an Indian wedding, welcomed and dressed by all entire Indian family? Are you doing so out of respect for the Indian grandmother who bestowed upon you a sari and bindi? Or, are you a festival-goer who has distorted the “Om” symbol and meaning of a bindi to sway away to psy-trance before you return to your insular suburban bubble? More simply, are you respecting and embracing the bindi, or are you co-opting it?
b) Does your use of the symbol or practice serve as an arrogant reminder that your ethnic group (see: white ethnic groups) has never suffered the history that is so significant to the symbol itself?
It is less complicated than it seems. All symbols, practices, styles, any cultural object for that matter, will have a significance that stems from either the culture itself, or the political and social oppression in which it was experienced in. Moving away from an Indo-centric example, let us look to cornrows and dreadlocks. Whilst arguably worn across many continents and cultures, they are practical and political styles within the black community. They were historically used in the slave era because black hair was seen as “unruly” or “unkept” and ugly. This stereotype is still present. The issue then, is that white people are not subject to such value judgements when they choose to don this hairdo in the name of “edginess” (see: Kylie Jenner). Secondly, for some in the community, the hairstyle is a political statement, a refusal to conform to the white standards of beauty and anglo-centric expectations. The entirety of the history, significance and semiotic cultural association is lost, as is the suffering it represents when it is taken by the white person who wants to be edgy. The lens through which you are seeing a group has lost its focus. Thus the practical and political meanings are no longer in control by the very group who were once oppressed by these imposed meanings, instead, the control exists with groups that did the oppressing in the first place.
c) You may be respecting the symbol and practice, but does this respect come at a price to those who it effectively belongs to?
Does your appreciation and respect for a culture, displayed through the propagation of their symbols, hinder the effective practice of the culture itself?
Yoga is an art form originating in India as a physical, mental and spiritual process of awakening. Today its name is used in conjunction with mass-marketed material commodities and pseudo enlightened yogi entrepreneurs.
Frustratingly capitalistic and anglicised? Yes.
Cultural appropriation? Well it really depends. Does the establishment of yoga studios around countries like Australia really undermine the authentic teaching of yoga?
Let me rephrase. Are Hindus like my Grandma and Grandpa, prohibited or unable to practice their peculiar breathing and meditative exercises because Lululemon clad clients attend nineteen dollar Yogalates in their local gym? Most likely, no. Are those Hindus who seek Hindu-inspired spiritual guidance unable to do so? No. Yoga studios do create a market for this gentrified form of meditation, but they in no way have led to the erosion of the traditional forms of Yoga for those who truly seek this. These are as evasive as they have always been, and anyone who truly appreciates yoga will look further than the local gym. The rest of us are just buying into an industry prefaced on soul searching in the downwards dog.
Yet, as with anything concerning cultural appropriation, there is an unclear line. For many, yoga represents the fetishisation of ‘Eastern mysticism’: picking what is least ‘foreign’ and culturally jarring whilst still maintaining a degree of exoticism to satisfy some curiosity. Hinduism has been renowned for its diversity and difference to the Book religions, welcoming of evolution and change. Thus by extension, yoga is just one facet of the eclectic mix of philosophies and cultural practices that fit under ‘Hinduism’. By spreading spiritual balance and meditative harmony, the practice of yoga may seem to in fact be benefited by the appropriation of these practices in the wider western sphere. However, all meaning is rooted in cultural context, and in some yoga studios, the dynamics in play do not properly confer meaning to the art. When some classes casually throw around hybridised, pseudo-Sanskrit terms, then the true meaning is lost, and the practice of the art is in vain.
d) Are you commodifying a culture for your own profit?
Purporting to appreciate, respect and understand a culture does not confer right to profit off it. Of course, culture is not monolithic. But when something like the bindi becomes a commodity which celebrities choose to wear for their latest music video or capitalistic endeavour, thousands of years of religion are reduced to an esoteric and misunderstood dot on their head. Whilst Gwen Stefani could adorn it in all her quirkiness, I was not ‘quirky’ when I was the only brown girl who had to explain the weird red dot my grandmother wore. Cultural appropriation is such a quagmire because no-one has yet worked out why one is mocked or scrutinized for embracing their own culture, yet lauded, admired and able to profit when adopting the symbols of another in the name of new aesthetics to accompany a music deal.
e) Are you profiting in another way?
Of course, commodification is slightly more complex than straightforward financial gain. The exploitation of a culturally significant entity can be a form of social currency. Say, for example, Stefani did not increase sales during her bindi phase. The capitalistic success may not have been there, but her theft of this sacrosanct item was a theft of its meaning, Hindu history, and most importantly, of the space its traditional owners have left after centuries of oppression. So whilst she may have explored Hinduism, dated an Indian man and supported Hinduism, she profited by encroaching on space that was not hers at the expense of those who truly deserve it. This is neo-colonialism at a micro level, and goes beyond the bounds of just being culturally insensitive or cultural appropriation.
f) Are you making it easier for people to celebrate their culture by appropriating and normalizing it, at the expense of true agency?
Did Stefani’s appropriation of the bindi in fact normalize a previously foreign dot, allowing for South Asians to wear it without being otherised? Did Stefani’s appreciation of the bindi influence others to appreciate it, especially when donned by those who belong to the cultures from which it originated? Yes could be the answer, and yes could be the answer to whether this is tangibly, in isolation, a positive development. But peeling back another layer exposes this all too common phenomenon of Western societies. With so much space taken up by western-cultural propaganda and practices, people of colour are pushed out, and their agency dissolves. Even if the bindi is now accepted, on both white bush doofers and ‘exotic’ Indian brides, this is once more, on the terms of the white people. Meaning and value are conferred at the time it most suited their latest curiosity, and once again, we are all expected to adopt it on the terms imposed.
Consequences
When we don’t deeply consider the ramifications of taking a cultural tradition, the problematic binary arises. Each side of the spectrum can result in great harms, for both the culture that is purportedly being appreciated, and the people who must suffer because of their attachment to this culture.
By appropriating symbols, under the guise of appreciation within the context of a ‘global market of shared ideas’, we overlook one key issue. The ‘actual sharing’ is a farce. It is not happening. Sharing implies a fair exchange, rather than intruding on a culture’s space. For minorities in western society, for people of colour, our traditions are often distorted, ignored or demonised. By exerting any sort of authority or ownership over our own symbols, we are risking rejection. Yet when white people ‘appreciate’ our symbols, they impose their own conceptions of the symbol’s historical and contemporary significance.
There is of course another perspective to consider. Although this article has aimed to outline the issues inherent in appropriation, this is not to say that we should unconditionally label any sort of cultural exchange to be of appropriative nature. Cultural discourse is not monolithic, and cultural meanings do not remain stagnant. This restrictive method can unintentionally reinforce the dominant voices within the culture. By reacting to the use of a symbol with unquestioned protection, we reinforce its position in the hierarchies and power dynamics that exist in every culture.
The imposition of what Hinduism is, what it should look like, and what reactions it entails in the face of a ‘slight’, is a form of cultural colonialism itself. This imposition often comes from white commentators, who don’t understand the nuances of what they are defending. What cause are these culturally sensitive people pledging for… some mystical Hindu ideal that should be protected against all by any means necessary? This question is especially prevalent, considering Hinduism is definitely not evenly distributed or egalitarian in its current form. Its practice can often entrench the second class status of Women, Queer people, Dalits, and the intersection of all three. The list of oppressed people goes on.
Whilst we must acknowledge cultural authority, this should not slide into cultural totalitarianism. Otherwise there is a risk of silencing the ambiguities and eccentricities that fill the gaps and form the bonds in a culture. This sort of ignorance is a sophisticated form of cultural ignorance, the very reason why cultural appropriation is deemed so problematic in the first place. No culture or set of beliefs should be free from criticism. No discussion should be off limits, except one that simplifies or shuts down such vital discourse. This can ultimately homogenise a culture, and homogenise meanings between cultures, and that is exactly what we are trying to avoid.
