Carved pumpkins helplessly find their way to the dumpsters. Ghosts return to their haunted mansions, with their license to roam expired. Unicorns, princesses and other fantastic creatures go back to their carefree fairytale lives. Sexually liberated cats and tigers go back to their lives as ordinary animals.
Halloween — and its cacophony of costumes and decorations — has now passed, but the debate about cultural appropriation, which always gains momentum around this time of the year, is still very much alive.
A movement for collective awareness about taking symbols from other cultures seems to have surged recently, causing more and more partygoers to question themselves before wearing a Native American headdress — and to condemn those who decide to do it.
This collective awareness can no doubt have positive consequences that can counter the detrimental effects of cultural appropriation. It is important, however, to ask whether this social phenomenon is a product of newly-acquired, true respect, or out of sheer fear of being offensive. If it’s the former, props to society, but if it is the latter, it means that we still have a lot of work to do.
Regardless of the motivation, it is vital to avoid absolute, formulaic political correctness. It is very difficult to draft a textbook definition of appropriateness or a foolproof strategy to prevent being offensive. But it is vital to think about, and in doing so, to analyze what cultural appropriation exactly means.
In simple terms, cultural appropriation is the adoption or theft of symbols, rituals, icons and behaviors from another culture. The term usually refers to a majority (in terms of race, ethnicity, religion or any other factor) taking certain aspects of a minority culture or subculture.
Careful reflection about this definition reveals a very important point to take into consideration: cultural appropriation is as relative as culture itself. Latinos, for example, are a very large minority in the United States, but after crossing our southern border, they are the overwhelming majority. The balance of who makes up most of the population in sheer numbers can radically change the tone of the conversation.
Despite the clear differences among countries, Latinos have certain common denominators — most countries, except for Brazil, speak the same language, for example — that can turn cultural exchanges between Latin American countries from what some would see as “appropriation” into what could be defined as “borrowing.” Having a common history and ancestry can turn a negative cultural interaction into a positive or harmless one.
Let’s take a very particular example. In a small portion of northern Colombia, near the Caribbean Sea, live the Arhuacos, a very prominent indigenous tribe. Arhuacos make a special type of handbags, called _mochilas_, which people all over the country use. Most Colombians are not Arhuaco descent, and even for those in close proximity to Arhuacos it can be hard to pinpoint whether they have an Arhuaco ancestor.
It is important to note that using _mochilas_ is not an instance of cultural appropriation. As someone who was born in that region, I can attest that most people carry their _mochilas_ around with pride, using it as a means to recognize an important part of our culture, regardless of our specific ethnic makeup or ancestry. It is not stealing or misusing traditional symbols. It is, through what for some is a fashion statement, asserting that we are not embarrassed of our roots.
This line of thought, however, cannot be applied to every culture around the world, and it may not justify the misrepresentation of Native Americans and other groups in U.S. popular culture. And that is exactly the point. Particularized evaluation is a far better guide to minimizing offensive actions than blanket prohibition.
The debate, of course, does not end there. What happens, for example, when a person wants to pay tribute to a specific historical character who happens to belong to a particular culture and wear traditional dress? Thorny issue, no doubt, but making the character clearly identifiable by highlighting his or her personal features and even carrying a sign with the name of the person can help avoid controversy. If the idea is to represent the _individual_, not the _culture_, it is important to do just that.
And this doesn’t have to be difficult. A friend, for example, decided to dress as a very prominent Mexican woman — palette in hand, thick unibrow and all. Clearly, she was not representing just any 20th century Mexican woman; she was Frida Kahlo. Her portrayal was fun, original and specific. I believe that — using the 21st century vernacular we’re so accustomed to — she “nailed” it.
But there’s more to the issue. Much more. It is crucial to remember there are many ways to misrepresent a particular culture, and a lot of it has to do with the use of inaccurate language. If you decide to dress like a Mariachi, do not call the artifact covering your head a “sombrero” — in Spanish “sombrero” simply means “hat,” not a specific type of hat. You can call the hat a “charro hat/sombrero,” or even a “mariachi hat,” but for the love of diversity, attempt to be accurate.
This last example brings us to the main and final point when dealing with cultural appropriation, which is the importance of being aware of context. It is vital to do some homework and understand the cultural significance of the costume or dress. Whatever the decision, it should be an informed one — and it should take history into consideration and hold respect as the golden standard. Taking enough time and using all resources available to determine how appropriate it is to wear something as a costume can be the ultimate measure of veneration.
But if you are deciding what to wear 20 minutes before the party, or if you simply want to avoid being disrespectful, remember you can always dress as a cat. Or a unicorn. I doubt anyone will call you out for that.