The first time I ever heard the term “cultural appropriation,” I thought it was stupid.
Defensively, I felt that this is simply how trends spread, that nothing “belongs” to a certain group of people and that just because a certain style – dreadlocks, for example – has historically been utilized by one group, this doesn’t mean other groups can’t enjoy it as well. It took some time and quite a few humbling conversations for me to understand.
This topic seems to flow in and out of mainstream conversation, but always crops back up around Halloween – and for good reason. I haven’t made it through a single Halloween party in my college career without seeing at least one costume that makes me cringe. These costumes often mimic a culture: Native Americans, geisha girls and gypsies are among the most common. In recent years, though, it’s become more common to see costumes emulating transgender celebrities at the yearly soirees, which has brought the conversation to the forefront once more.
If you were to ask the next person you see wearing a culturally appropriative costume their reason behind doing so, you might get a response similar to the one I felt initially. It’s typical, really, and it all boils down to white privilege. White privilege has made life easy for me: my ideas are heard, my natural look deemed professionally acceptable and my life rarely put in danger. Many would argue that they are simply inspired by these cultures; they were honoring its history. Others, like my 16-year-old self, might say that it’s normal for trends and styles to transcend cultural boundaries. Still another explanation I’m sure we’ve all heard is that people are just too sensitive these days – they need to learn to take a joke.
It’s dangerous to think this way.
To be a Native American is to be abused, corralled and mocked in your own land. To be black means to be hired less, paid less and trusted less. To be transgender means to be devalued, ridiculed and dehumanized.
These are the experiences of the cultures and identities that generate income at Halloween stores. But the struggles aren’t transferred; just the aesthetic is embraced. Native American garb is donned and subsequently stripped off following a night of boozy fun, ending up in the back of a closet two days later. Caitlyn Jenner’s corset makes the rounds at a frat party, spurring laughs and cheesy imitations, completely oblivious to the difficulty that comes with being born the wrong gender. Bindis are stuck to foreheads and fawned over all night, but how many wearing them could give even a brief explanation of the cultural significance behind it?
For the privileged, these clothing choices, hairstyles and costumes are celebrated and complimented. For those from whom they originate, they are often mocked and belittled.
Cultural appropriation can be a hard pill to swallow for those whose identities have never been trivialized by their privileged counterparts; it took me a long time to fully understand it. It’s okay to ask questions. It’s even okay to not completely understand it (though please do continue trying to), but it’s not okay to not respect it.This Halloween, go for a less destructive option; those around you will thank you.
Photo credits:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/11/25/cultural-appropriation-katy-per…
http://atlantablackstar.com/2015/12/30/10-times-white-people-were-called…