How is it that a Hindu holiday—one that has been showered in themes of cohesiveness—can get so lost in translation, becoming a celebration that’s only shared amongst an exclusive club?
“You shouldn’t judge people by the clothes they wear” is a valiant proverb, but it falls short in practice. When the public sees a non-Indian person wearing an Indian kurta on Diwali, one thought, whether we voice it or not, always flies through our heads: “that’s cultural appropriation.”
During the Diwali season, I find myself taking offense to this comment, especially since the people saying it are not always familiar with the core principles of this revered Hindu festival. Deafening fireworks and extravagantly lit houses publicize the festivity aspect of Diwali, but the Hindu beliefs behind the celebration are often forgotten.
Dāna is the act of fostering generosity, and no story better exemplifies this practice than the Hindu epic of Sudama. An impoverished man with a wife who is bedridden from malnourishment, Sudama still finds a way to salvage a gift for his guest and childhood friend Krishna (a Hindu deity). Sudama brings Krishna all the food he has left, down to the last grain of parched and beaten rice.
I know, Diwali isn’t a festival about charity or giving away all of your belongings. It’s about sharing with others. So how is it that a Hindu holiday—one that has been showered in themes of cohesiveness—can get so lost in translation, becoming a celebration that’s only shared amongst an exclusive club? If Sudama was able to give his last grain of rice to his friend, why can I not share my culture with those I care for? Why should I have to soothe my friends’ worries of being canceled for taking pride in the kurtas that I offer them, enjoying the parties that I host for them, and appreciating the culture that I share with them?
Living in Edison, NJ, a predominantly Indian community, I’ve attended or hosted a Diwali party every year. Roughly 2 hours after the “official” start, I’d see swarms of people begin to enter—those we invited, as well as the friends the invitees brought. Still, we’ve welcomed all friends of guests, regardless of race or religion, because if someone was willing to enjoy the holiday, they were more than worthy of attending. The only requirement was that we had to suit them in kurtas.
Those who immediately jump to chastise non-Indian kurta enthusiasts on Diwali make a feeble attempt to combat the Asian-American racism that has plagued our country for centuries, failing to understand the key differences between appropriation and appreciation. Appreciation, virtuous in nature, attempts to learn and enjoy all the nuances that encompass a certain community. Appropriation, however, lacks its sibling’s innocence. It takes advantage of the culture that surrounds it, contorting this culture to fit its own whims and desires.
These two actions, while polar opposites, are often mistaken for each other at first glance. Claiming that a non-Hindu man wearing a kurta on Diwali is an indication of cultural appropriation fails to entertain the possibility of a man appreciating a holiday that his loved ones may celebrate. Instead of immediately condemning this man for his clothes, we can remain open-minded in the spirit of sharing celebrations with others.
Cultural appropriation exists, and there’s a genuine possibility that this non-Indian person could be appropriating Hindu culture, using the traditional dress to satisfy his selfish desires. But unless I have a conversation with this man and get to know him and his views, I’m not willing to make any assumptions because, as Martin Luther King Jr. once said, people should not be “judged by the color of their [clothes] but by the content of their character.”
Thank you for the articles