No, Salwar Kameez is not cultural appropriation by Bangladeshis
a note for @PakistanWatan
Recently, an Instagram post claiming that Bangladeshis are “appropriating” Pakistani culture by wearing salwar kameez went viral. The note, posted on the Instagram story of user @pakistanwatan, claimed “this is wrong as your [sic] taking our identity, cultural pieces, and ethnic attire without credit…” It went on to say that as a country that has been colonized numerous times, Bangladeshis should know better. And a weird disclaimer that we were never same country.
Lol, okay.
The post has since been deleted, but that doesn’t take away the insults thrown to us. It’s problematic for many reasons, including claiming the salwar kameez solely belongs to one part of Pakistan, targeting the comments specifically to Bangladeshis even though pretty much every other country on the subcontinent wears it (as they should), and then proudly claiming we were “never one country.”
What is Salwar Kameez?
To the untrained eye, the outfits in the pictures above should look the same. It is a classic combination of a tunic, pants, and a shawl most of us have seen before. Some of us grew up seeing our mothers and aunts wear it, while some of us wear it quite regularly on social occasions, if not at home everyday. Known as Shalwar Kameez or Salwar Kameez depending on which part of the Indian subcontinent you are from, it is a traditional outfit worn all over South Asia.
The women in these pictures are of different nationality and ethnicity, but their history, customs, cuisine and clothing have a common origin. Historically, they are cut from the same cloth (literally). Given the Instagram post, and the responses it received, I decided to highlight the etymology, origin and adaptation of the salwar kameez, to provide some context on how far-fetched, vile and racist their assertions were.
The term “shalwar/salwar” originates from the Arabic word “sirwal”, which is also known as punjabi pants and harem pants. It is a form of baggy trousers which can be traced all the way back to the Christian era. Salwar is typically worn in Muslim countries but can also be extensively found in the Greek countryside and Balkan regions (due to the influence by the Ottoman Turks prior to World War II). The trousers were introduced by the Turk-Mongol-Persians to Mid-eastern regions and the great Indian subcontinents.
The term “kameez” originates from the Arabic word “qamis” which is loosely based on the Latin word “chemise”. It is a shift dress or a tunic of varying lengths. Garments cut like the kameez can be found in many modern cultures and in their past history outside of South Asia. In early Roman times, tracing back to 27 BC, men and women wore a seamless shirt called “tunica” which looks very similar to the modern day tunic or kameez. Tenth-century cotton shirts recovered from the Egyptian desert are cut much like the kameez or the contemporary Egyptian jellabiya or Moroccan djellaba. To the far east, in China you will find cheongsam (Cantonese) or qipao (Mandarin), a feminine body-hugging shift dress, often with long side slits. In Vietnam, the national costume is áo dài, a tight-fitting tunic worn over trousers which can be traced all the way back to the 18th century.
Salwar kameez is a classic case of cultural exchange followed by cultural diffusion, not cultural appropriation. Cultural exchange is the mutual sharing of information between two or more groups with equal social standing for the purpose of improving friendship and understanding.
As the great Indian subcontinent crumbled under the British rule and white men drew imaginary lines to their liking, cultural objects and ideas evolved due to their forcible adaptation, known as cultural diffusion. The origin and proliferation of salwar kameez is one such article of clothing that has been modified and restyled over time depending on the styles and religions of the particular region it went to.
- Picture 1: a Pakistani woman wearing a Lawn Kameez, made of floral linen/cotton fabric and cotton palazzo pants, stylised Pakistani salwar. This type of salwar kameez has gained popularity among South Asian diaspora as well, due to its’ accessibility and affordability.
- Picture 2: an Indian woman wearing a brocade kameez, velvet shawl with zari and stonework embellishments paired with a silk patiala salwar, native to Punjabi culture.
- Picture 3: a Bangladeshi woman in a cotton kameez with kantha stitch, an intricate hand embroidery native to Bengali culture which includes motifs of flowers, animals and geometric shapes and colorful applique work with a cotton churidar salwar.
- Picture 4: a Nepali woman wearing a peplum kameez and a dhoti salwar made of raw silk. What stands out is the bright-colored prints in her orna/dupatta which is called Dhaka (not the capital city of Bangladesh), an exquisite form of weaving colorful threads and patterns indigenous to Nepal.
Bangladeshis have every right to Salwar Kameez
It is irrefutable that salwar kameez does not belong to one particular nationality or ethnicity in South Asia. Furthermore, when considering the history of Bangladesh, the liberation war and genocide in 1971 carried out by the Pakistani government and military, it is entirely impossible and absolutely ridiculous to say “Bangladeshis are appropriating salwar kameez from the Pakistanis.” Denying the right to an article of clothing they themselves imposed on us during their cruel regime does not indicate cultural appropriation, it indicates deep-rooted racism towards Bangladeshis and Bengalis.
Nearly five decades since the war, prejudices remain even today, especially among the diaspora where Bangladeshi children are frequently bullied and shamed by Pakistani children. Insults like “machi”, “fish”, “ugly for eating fish”, “smelly bungy”, “dark skinned”, “black”, “bongla”, “Hindus”, “your language is a joke” are just the tip of the iceberg. I have been criticized for not being able to speak in Urdu, because apparently it was the language of my forefathers.
As a Bangladeshi, I have been called a “Hindu” numerous times (as if that is an insult) even though Bangladesh is 90% Muslim. Such racism, discrimination and xenophobia is not innate, it is learned. Their understanding is that Bangladesh seceded from Pakistan, a Muslim country and thus all Bengalis and Bangladeshis must be Hindus. I have lost count of how many times I had to hear “Pakistan did not surrender the war but left Bengalis to be. There was no point fighting because they were too Hindu-like and would never learn the real Islam anyway.” According to those people, the rape of an estimated 500,000 women and the subsequent birth of 250,000 war children was an act of “Islamic conversion.” Let that sink in.
That is why the claims made by this account were particularly hurtful, adding insult to wounds that, for some of us, remain open even today.
Just like the forcible adaptation of European clothing in India by the British Raj, Bengalis of East Pakistan were also forced to adopt the salwar kameez instead of sharees. My Bengali ancestors were ridiculed for wearing the sharee because it was historically a Hindu garment; Pakistanis considered the sharee immodest and haram (forbidden) while the salwar kameez was a symbol of modesty and Islam. Some of us have grandmothers who were born before the 1947 partition and till this day they continue to wear sharees because salwar kameez was never part of their garb. But our parents, the generation that lived through the intense Pakistani regime were psychologically and religiously manipulated to adopt salwar kameez and forego the sharee.
For the modern career women all over South Asia, salwar kameez is a functional outfit that suits their active lifestyle needs better than the traditional sharee, which is time-consuming to wear and requires proper wrap and drape. The salwar kameez may be a national outfit for Pakistani women, but it’s been a traditional attire, alongside the sharee, for Bangladeshi and Indian women. And it will continue to stay that way. It belongs to Bangladeshis, Indians, Nepalis and rest of South Asia just as much as it belongs to Pakistanis. We are cut from the same cloth. There should not be animosity, racial disparity and bigotry among us when we have more similarities than differences. Instead of pitting us against each other, we should take pride in our shared rich heritage and work to preserve the legacies of our common ancestors.
