Don't ask me what's culturally appropriate, I don't know either

Sashi wanted to wear a Sari because it made her feel beautiful. She didn't even consider the more complex aspects of her party's relaxed dress code. (Supplied: Sashi Perera) Link copiedShareShare articleWhen my husband and I threw a belated party to celebrate our elopement, we had a simple dress code. The electronic invite said — it's just a party, we're dressing up but no-one else must. Charlie's wearing a suit, Sashi's wearing a sari, you wear whatever you're comfortable in. I was suddenly fielding calls from friends who wanted to wear saris but were worried that it might be disrespectful because they weren't Sri Lankan. They asked in hushed tones, is that cultural appreciation or cultural appropriation? Comically, I was fielding calls from my Sri Lankan aunties and cousins saying, ughhhh but now we have to drag our saris around the world because you're wearing one! All I wanted was for everyone to be comfortable enough to spend a long time on the dance floor. I had no idea what was appropriate or who would be offended. People of colour don't have a secret guide. There's no update from a global people of colour association that says, here's the new flowchart on how to arbitrate on what's appropriate this quarter. Given the time and effort Sashi spends trying to refer to herself politely, she says the least she can do is laugh about it. And she does through her comedy. (Supplied: Sashi Perera) Many of us are as confused as everyone else. We're a large group bound together by only one factor — we're not white. So different things matter in different degrees to all of us, it's near impossible to speak as one. I don't even like the term people of colour. The first time I heard it I thought of the Smurfs because they're blue. But there was nowhere to lodge a complaint or make a follow-up query. I woke up one day and was already behind on the new polite way to refer to myself. Every couple of months, there's a new issue that I must have the correct, concrete stance on otherwise I betray my group. My first experience of this was when I moved to Melbourne in 2017. At a dinner party, debate raged over the depiction of Apu in The Simpsons. At one point, everyone looked to me, the one person of colour at the table for my guidance. I apologetically shrugged. I wasn't Indian and I didn't watch The Simpsons. As I toured shows outside Australia, the polite way to refer to myself changed between countries. I discovered that there is a litany of terms to avoid saying "not white". I travelled with Charlie who was just a person wherever he went. Until we got to Sri Lanka where he's referred to as a suddha — which translates to white person. When I started writing jokes about trying to navigate these experiences, the main piece of feedback from online trolls was, why do you care so much about colour? I don't — I'm so much more than my identity. But given the time and effort I spend in executing linguistic gymnastics to refer to myself politely, the least I can do is laugh about it to sidestep the frustration. At some point I firmly decided that all I can do is what feels right for me. I started to refer to myself as a brown woman because that's who I see in the mirror. To me, that doesn't feel reductive but reflective. It was a relief to have solved the issue of what to call myself regardless of what country I'm in and who it may offend or make uncomfortable. Sashi says when they travel, her husband Charlie is mostly "just a person" while she has to work out what the polite terminology is for herself. (Supplied: Sashi Perera) I told my friends that I'd love them to wear saris if they wanted to because saris make me feel beautiful and I wanted them to experience that. As far as I could tell, it would only be cultural appropriation if they claimed to have invented the sari and renamed it to something like the "sick Aussie wrap". I told my aunties and cousins that the whole reason we eloped was to sidestep any formalities, so they really could wear anything. In the end, they couldn't resist the opportunity to dress up in their saris either. An hour before the party, my aunties were laughing and chattering while lovingly pinning saris of my friends. It was a beautiful moment of connection between my family, culture and friends. Sashi Perera is a comedian, writer and former lawyer based in Naarm/Melbourne. Find her on Instagram and Substack. Copy linkFacebookX (formerly Twitter)See more ABC coverage in your search results PromotionTop StoriesJewish MP slams social media giants for antisemitic comments responseTopic:Royal Commissions

Don't ask me what's culturally appropriate, I don't know either

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