From Eggshells to Dupattas: Society’s successful rebrand

For many students, university is more than academics. It’s a space where cultural identity is constantly negotiated, reclaimed, or challenged. Cultural traditions that shaped home life often become sources of self-consciousness or misunderstanding on campus. Meanwhile, many of these same traditions are commodified and popularised in mainstream student culture, stripped of context and true meaning.

Recognising the difference between cultural appreciation and appropriation helps build stronger connections and fosters genuine inclusivity. Because you don’t have to look closely to see society’s best rebrand; practices that were called too ethnic now come neatly packaged as wellness and boho-chic. Turmeric, Amla hair oil, yoga, incense were all kept within the safe parameters of immigrant houses. First and second generation immigrant children begging their mothers to pack sandwiches, not Parathas for school. Now this instinct rears its head in uni as well, hesitating to reheat my dahl rice in the common microwaves. I grew up walking on eggshells around my culture. Loving the vibrance on our trips back to family in India but reverting back to neutrals as the people on campus idolised. But as a glossy rebrand sweeps over Western pop culture, and culture is reduced to a colourless aesthetic, the generations before me contributing to the culture are left out of the conversation – yoga is now a billion-dollar industry (without any Yogis). After all, our culture was never fragile to begin with, it was simply deemed unprofitable in its original packaging. I suppose, scrambled eggs sell more than Bhurji.

South-Asian children growing up in Western society know how to manage their cultural identity well; the dichotomy between our home and outside life could've got us employed on Kanye West’s PR team. The same traditions and practices that were strategically made more digestible now exist in the mainstream, the shoulders carrying them praised for their innovative style. An egg, the yolk discarded, existing only as a shell, a practice without any substance behind it. It’s a bit of an abnormal feeling. Of course, there is pride in seeing the culture I grew up with on runways and magazines. Look around and you’ll see it all over campus, kurtis that draw glances over the shoulders are considered ‘edgy’ and fashion forward (essentially a dress over pants for those not bothered to look it up). The jhumke I wear to class have made headway on quite a few Pinterest boards. However, there is bitterness in the question that follows; who gets to wear the culture and at what cost? 

Bipty: “It’s very European-chic, it’s very classy…Scandinavian”. It was a dupatta babes. 

At the moment, the cost is of local labour, generations of artistry and children who were told their culture was “too much” growing up. Oh Polly, Reformation, Peppermayo; these are some of many who have figured out that South Asian culture is much more palatable on those who aren’t.

After all, the clothing didn’t change, only who was wearing it. Bangles, jhumke, bindis, mehndi, all deemed ‘free spirited’, sported by the iconic Vanessa Hudgens – oh, and also your South Asian neighbour. This form of expression on brown skin remains foreign and exotic, or worse yet, performative as an attempt to ‘reclaim’ our culture. 

Our exhaustion at these rebrands is innate and personal, rooted from being ‘othered’ when wearing the originals. The same generations that scrubbed away our coconut oil and undid our slick-back plaits in fear of perpetuating the stereotype of being ‘smelly’ are now seeing the same product sold for an exorbitant price as part of the ‘clean girl aesthetic’. The coconut oil stored in Mum’s old spice jar is now a uni-girl essential. The frustrations stem from exploitation, while watching these watered-down versions not achieve the craftsmanship required to rip off the original artistry. Mind you, this occurrence is not new. Cultural appropriation has long existed, long enough for the distinction between appreciation and appropriation to be understood. 

I loved being able to dress up my friends of non-South-Asian background and share my culture, which they would reciprocate. At UTS, our cultural societies and initiatives play a vital role in this exchange. Whether it’s the Indian Student Society’s celebrations, the Equity, Inclusion and Respect policy, or smaller places where students can bring food, dance, and stories from home to share with others. Cultural exchange is a significant celebratory aspect of a highly globalised world; there is so much beauty in celebrating each other's cultures and practices. Appreciation allows for credit, context and celebration of the generations that have spent building this culture. Appropriation extracts and erases, it’s expression with amnesia. 

For those of us who trimmed our identities just to fit in, the uncomfortable truth that our culture was only accepted once it was peeled away from who we actually are really cracked the shell wide open. On campus, this plays out in small but telling ways – like watching people sip on ‘Chai tea’, or excitedly sharing the “miraculous benefits” of Ayurveda as if it were a new discovery, all while treating it like a trendy wellness fad. Meanwhile, they’re studying globalisation and multiculturalism in lectures but then ask us, “no, but where are you really from?” when ‘South-West Sydney’ doesn’t satisfy their curiosity.

Being a student living this experience means navigating all these contradictions every day. We’re constantly negotiating how much of ourselves to show or hide, and learning how to reclaim spaces that were never designed with us in mind.

Detachment allows for consumption without actually associating with the culture or people themselves, while concurrently seeing the rise of South-Asian hate on social media platform comment sections. Appreciation sees people. Appropriation extracts the product. As for first and second generation South-Asian immigrants, the eggshells are now swept away and we no longer crack our identities to fit the mould.

If you ever called the food, people or practices smelly, yet post your Golden Latte, turmeric shots, or festival-chic look with a sense of accomplishment, sit in that discomfort. Learn about where your daily practices come from and appreciate the people behind the culture you partake in. If you love the culture, love the people too. However, if this seems too big of a task and your jokes still echo the policies of White Australia, our culture's not ‘too overwhelming’, your palate is simply too bland. Better not catch you in a two piece set lighting incense for your ‘manifestation ritual’.

Bit ironic that in a movie called “White Chicks”, the formal attire to the White party is a lehenga and jhumke. 

What you are seeing at the moment is a successful rebrand, not just selling the product but rewriting the story. The generations that created, developed and are living the culture are left out. Again.