Chetna Prakash

About Chetna Prakash

Chetna Prakash is a Melbourne-based freelancer. With her passport showing residencies to Zambia, India, Denmark, The Netherlands, Germany, UK and now Australia, she confidently lays claim to the term “global citizen”. Her favorite pastime is to look at artworks and will them to say something to her. You can read her blog at Chatnoir: A Mumbaikar in Melbourne or find her on twitter @Mumbai2Melby

Cultural appropriation: plenty of room on the yoga mat

Approx Reading Time-12Westerners shouldn’t feel ashamed of practicing yoga in their own way, they should just be ok with Indians practicing it in theirs.


I woke up today to an email by my mother-in-law, who loves stirring me up. It was a Fairfax article by a Melbourne-based lawyer of Indian origin, Kamna Muddagouni, lamenting the cultural appropriation of yoga by the West. Provocatively titled “Why white people need to stop saying namaste”, it railed against the commodification of yoga, which she saw as just another example of the West’s wider ignorance about Hinduism and South Asian culture. She felt much “othered” by it.

Her argument neatly fell into the tried-and-tested post-colonial framework, which goes something like this. We, the Indians, were colonised by the West. Cultural domination was a big part of it. The selective cultural appropriation that we continue to see with “white people” wearing bindis, practicing yoga and eating Indian is a continuation of that domination and oppression.

Now, our culture will be converted into something that it is not, and peddled back to us. We must control how our culture is practiced, and anyone modifying it to make it more relatable and suitable to himself/herself, is not just being inauthentic, he/she is being offensive.

I find such arguments difficult to swallow because of a particular French lady who once came to Mumbai and gave my younger sister a hard time.

My sister, a Francophile, had to take a French journalist around Mumbai. Everything about my dirty, beloved Mumbai appalled her, but nothing incensed her more than a high-end city restaurant serving “French” fare that my sister specifically took her to so that she could relax in something familiar. The food was inauthentic, the wines were all wrong, and she wasn’t offered a cheese board – how dare the restaurant call itself ‘French’. The fact that my sister had presumed that this food was in any way French was the “appropriative cherry-on-top”, to borrow Ms Muddagouni’s phrase.

Yet, we in Mumbai loved that restaurant. We loved it precisely because while it gave us an exotic experience, it tailored that experience into something we Indians could enjoy. It didn’t matter to us that the wines and cheeses were all wrong, the fact that there were wine and cheese at all was exotic enough for us to call it French and to enjoy it.

What the experience taught me is that culture is no one’s to preserve, and it is certainly not static. Culture is what we make of it. If we Indians want to add some turmeric and cardamom to our pasta sauce, and put chicken instead of beef in our bourguignon, it no one’s business but ours. The Italians and French can’t object to our love for that food, even if the restaurant puts pictures of the Colosseum and Eiffel Tower to lend it faux-authenticity. Sure, they can snicker about it but they can’t put an obligation on us that we either don’t partake in their culture or do so only under the conditions set by them.

That would amount to cultural oppression and domination.

If that is true, then why can’t the West enjoy, mutate and transform yoga to something that they like and enjoy. Why does that make Ms Muddagouni feel oppressed and offended?

Ahhh! I can hear Ms Mouddagani sputter: “It’s colonisation, stupid. They colonised us, remember?”

Yes, I do remember. I also remember that before being about cultural domination, colonisation was a structure of political and economic domination. It wasn’t just about our food, music, religion and texts. It was also about the fact that we didn’t have the freedom to decide for ourselves, however, good or bad those decisions may have been. It was about the fact, that we had economic decisions thrust on us, which no one in their sane minds would have chosen for themselves. It was within this oppressive political and economic framework, that cultural domination gained potency.

So if we have to examine cultural domination and oppression today, it would greatly help to first examine the political and economic dynamics as well.

Much has happened since the British shipped out of India nearly seventy years ago. The fact that an Indian company is the largest private sector employer in Britain is one of those delicious ironies that I wish my grandmother (a freedom fighter) had lived long enough to savour. The economic structure of Globalisation may have been brought in with Western interests in mind, but India and China have been the biggest beneficiaries of it. Globalisation may not have benefited everyone in India, but net-net we are less pissed of about it than the average white, small town American factory worker if the current American election is anything to go by.

Politically, India is on the ascension, as well. The Indian prime minister Narendra Modi received a rock star welcome in the US, UK, and Australia during his visits in the last two years. It has happened because all countries want their share of the growing Indian economic pie. That Mr Modi is a fervent practitioner of Hinduism and its four pillars – “yoga, meditation, abstention and liberation” as listed by Ms Mouddagouni – should mollify her aggrieved colonised spirit somewhat.

Culturally speaking, Indians haven’t done too badly for themselves either. For all the effort put in the British to define the culture as inferior, exotic and occasionally threatening, Indians have not only preserved their own food, music, religion, dance and films, they have also appropriated many other cultural bits and pieces and made them uniquely their own. English language, for example. Some of the best writing in English fiction in the past decade has come out of South Asia, after all.

So politically, economically and culturally, Indians in India have done pretty well for themselves, and should be proud of it. Are they threatened by Australians in lycra yoga pants sweating out a pranayama at 40-degree centigrade? Nah! They are too busy watching Hindi films, dancing to “Jai Ho” and eating pasta in curry sauce to worry about it.

Which leaves the Indians living in the West, who see themselves as the torch-bearers of Indian culture in foreign lands? Should Australians be mindful of the pain they are inflicting on Ms Mouddagouni of the world with their “’nam-aasss-tays”?

They definitely don’t need to because Ms Mouddagouni has choices but is too lazy to research and exercise them. There are many yoga schools in Melbourne that offer no-frills yoga, classes focused on meditation, spirituality, satsangs, vegetarianism, and have gurus visiting from India regularly to lecture the disciples in the Hindu way of life. Yoga in Daily Life is a good place to start. If merely the sight of white people doing yoga offends her delicate sensibilities, there are also yoga classes that are mainly attended by Indians living in Melbourne, such as the Vasudev Kriya Yoga class. She can have an immersive identity experience there.

However, for her to say that whichever yoga class in Melbourne she walks into should offer her an experience that is authentically Hindu enough for her is what Australians call “acting precious”.

As a racial and cultural minority in Australia, I expect respect and a right to dignified existence. I don’t expect reparations for colonisation, and I don’t expect to control how, when and where Australians should engage with Indian culture, as long as it is done with respect and/or affection. Because for every Australian stretching it out in yoga pants, there is an Indian somewhere happily adding coriander powder to his Napoli sauce.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.


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