I am a woman of South Asian descent, and there has been a recurring issue within our community that has recently gained a lot of attention on social media. A few months ago, a TikTok creator shared an image of a woman wearing a long dress, with a scarf draped loosely around her neck that cascaded down with the flow of the dress. The styling was undeniably beautiful. However, the issue arose when this creator, in an attempt to explain the dress’s inspiration, claimed that the look was European, specifically Scandinavian, in origin.
While I understand how one might see light, soft colors and flowy fabrics as evoking a European summer aesthetic, the scarf in question was far from a Scandinavian tradition. In fact, that “scarf” is not a European piece at all. It is called a dupatta, a garment deeply rooted in South Asian, specifically Indian, culture.
The issue here isn’t simply the misidentification of the scarf’s origin; it’s the reluctance of creators, influencers, and brands to acknowledge the true history and origin of the clothing they admire. They seem unwilling to give credit to the culture from which they draw inspiration, despite the overwhelming evidence and history that ties the dupatta to Indian tradition.
As an Indian, I can confidently speak for many in my community when I say that we take immense pride in sharing our culture and traditions. We love seeing people from all backgrounds appreciating the vibrancy of our customs and clothing. I grew up feeling proud to share my culture with my non-Indian friends, especially when they would wear our traditional clothes and participate in our festivals. Seeing others appreciate what was so meaningful to me was heartwarming, and it made me feel seen and valued.
So, while I’m genuinely thrilled to see South Asian textiles and fashion making their way into Western culture, it’s incredibly disheartening to watch influencers co-opt these items without any acknowledgment of their true origin. It’s not just influencers—large clothing brands are now marketing garments that bear a striking resemblance to South Asian attire, and yet they fail to credit the culture that inspired them. Despite being called out repeatedly, these brands show little to no accountability.
What frustrates me further is the way my community is once again left feeling exploited. If you look back a few decades, immigrant women wearing their cultural attire were often met with disdain, even fear. Years ago, the average person would see a woman sitting on a bus wearing a scarf draped across her body and racially profile her, judging her as “foreign,” “backward,” or worse.
But the dupatta is far more than just a piece of cloth. It stands as a symbol of freedom and resistance for South Asian women. The word itself breaks down into “du,” meaning two, and “patta,” meaning a piece of cloth. This garment’s significance dates back to ancient times, with evidence of its use in the Indus Valley Civilization (2500-1500 BCE), and in the artworks of early Indian empires from around 550 CE.
For centuries, the dupatta has been a symbol of dignity, self-respect, and defiance, with its significance deeply tied to the tragic tradition of Johar (or Jauhar), a practice during times of war and imperial conquest. When society threatened women with capture, abuse, or dishonor by invading forces, they would choose self-immolation over surrender, walking into the flames to preserve their honor. The dupatta, worn in these final moments, was more than just a garment—it symbolized resistance and unwavering self-respect.
Today, the dupatta continues to be worn across South Asia, representing not just tradition but also the strength of generations of women. Yet, some trivialize its significance, dismissing its deep historical roots as “not that deep.” But to dismiss the historical context is to ignore the struggles of the very people who’ve lived through them. It was “that deep” when immigrants arrived in this country, only to face mockery and ridicule for their cultural attire. It was “that deep” when, as a child, my classmates looked at the henna on my hands and called it “dirt,” or when they laughed at the smell of my food. It was “that deep” when I struggled to fit in and distanced myself from my own heritage in search of acceptance.
What we’re witnessing today is not just ignorance, but cultural appropriation at its most blatant. By ignoring the historical and cultural significance of the garments they adopt, creators and companies are actively erasing the history behind them. This isn’t merely about aesthetics—it’s about recognizing the deep history that informs these pieces.
Take a moment to compare these contemporary pieces, which appear to draw on South Asian designs, with traditional Indian clothing:
And now compare them with traditional Indian clothing:
- Mirraw Pink Georgette Embroidered Designer Plazzo Suit
- Kalki Fashion Sweetheart Neck Yellow Embroidered Anarkali Suit with Choker Dupatta
While the modern versions have been altered to fit contemporary Western tastes, the similarity in structure and fabric is undeniable. However, despite these visible parallels, it’s frustrating to see no acknowledgment of the rich cultural and historical context from which these styles originate. This disregard for the true roots of the design feels like an erasure of our heritage, reducing centuries of meaning and significance to just another “trend” to be capitalized on.
Once again, it means the world to me that people are starting to dress in fashion that I grew up adoring. So many girls, especially in college right now are wearing formals dresses with a dupatta draped around them, and feeling just as pretty as I did growing up. However, it’s deeply invalidating not to receive the recognition we deserve, and it feels as though people are constantly taking from our culture without acknowledgment. But it’s crucial to remember that no matter how much they try to appropriate our traditions, they can never truly replicate the centuries of history, meaning, and pride that we carry with us through our clothing.
So, I urge you: next time you see someone wearing a dupatta or a scarf with a similar drape, take a moment to recognize its origin. The Scandinavian scarf isn’t Scandinavian at all. It’s an Indian dupatta—and its high time we gave credit where it’s due.