Get the book
Respect, Not Appropriation: One Standard for Everyone
The question nobody wants to ask
When someone stands at the front of a room and teaches bhangra, how do you know whether they understand what they are teaching?
Most of us answer without noticing. We look at the person. If they look as though they belong to the culture, we assume they know it. If they do not, we assume they do not. Both assumptions are shortcuts, and both are unreliable.
What appropriation means, and who it applies to
Cultural appropriation is the borrowing of something from a culture without understanding it, crediting it or respecting it. The concern is usually raised about people from outside the culture, and it is a fair concern. A style that grew out of harvest festivals in Punjab can be flattened into a costume, a backdrop or a marketing hook.
But the standard is about behaviour, not appearance. If the test is understanding, credit and respect, then it applies to everyone. A person with a Punjabi name or background can misrepresent Punjabi culture. A person from outside it can represent it with real care. Neither can be assumed. Most people who get it wrong are not acting in bad faith. They learned it from a system that taught them the wrong version: the anglicised spelling, a film industry, a social media feed.
The aim is not to catch people out. It is to hold everyone, ourselves included, to the same high standard.
Clues, not verdicts
None of the following proves anything on its own. Each one is a prompt to ask a question and to learn more.
The pronunciation. Saying "bang-rah" is how the English spelling reads. The Punjabi word is closer to "pun-gra". (See the chapter on the word.)
The geography. Describing bhangra as coming from "north India" is a common slip. It comes from the Punjab region, which today spans both India and Pakistan, and it travelled with Punjabis through partition and migration. Saying "north India" erases half of that map. (See the chapter on the map.)
The film music. Mixing up Punjabi music with Indian movie music, usually called Bollywood, treats two different traditions as one. Bhangra is Punjabi folk music and dance. Bollywood is the Hindi-language film industry. A song can borrow from one to sell the other, but they are not the same thing. (See the chapter on bhangra and Bollywood.)
The family. Calling every Punjabi dance "bhangra" erases giddha, jhumar, luddi and the rest. (See the chapter on the family of dances.)
Systems, not villains
It is tempting to turn this into a story of good and bad people. This book argues for a different view. The word "bhangra" was bent into a noun by anglicisation, by colonial habits of naming and by the way an action gets turned into the name of a thing. Entertainment and fitness industries then rewarded whatever looked most impressive or most marketable. People inside those systems repeat what the systems taught them.
That does not remove responsibility. It changes where to look. Ask what a person was taught and by whom. Ask what they have done since they learned better.
One standard, applied to everyone
Whoever is teaching, ask the same questions:
- Do they know the culture, and do they describe it accurately?
- Do they say the word, and name the place, correctly?
- Do they credit the people, artists and regions the music comes from?
- Are they qualified to teach what they are teaching, and are the basics in place, such as insurance and a music licence?
- When they are corrected, do they listen and change?
Apply them to a stranger, to a friend, to a famous name and to yourself. The last one matters most.
What to do next time
When you notice a clue, resist the urge to accuse. Ask a question. "Where did you learn it?" is more useful than "That's wrong." Offer the correct version kindly and give people the chance to improve. Most will.
And when someone corrects you, say thank you. Everyone who teaches this culture, whatever they look like, is standing on something that took generations to build. It deserves to be described properly.