A short essay: My thoughts on cultural clothing, appropriation, and identity

Cultural Clothing: Cheongsams

To celebrate Lunar New Year, I wore my rose pink cheongsam. I currently own a few different cheongsams in a variety of colors, but to me the most coveted cheongsams are the ones that my grandmother owns. Real silk cheongsams are smooth and radiant unlike the one that I’m wearing which is a bit stiff to wear.

As a lover of all things fashion, there’s something about wearing my traditional garments that evokes a deep sense of identify, pride, and even confusion. On one hand, I am proud to be Asian American (I am half Chinese, half Japanese) and I want to celebrate my cultural heritage. Yet on the other hand, I feel somewhat of an imposter to my own culture, a foreigner to my own ethnicity. Though I look Asian, I don’t necessarily feel Asian due to the fact that I am fourth generation American. I’ve never been to my native homelands. I don’t speak either Chinese or Japanese and neither do my parents. On the surface, I am inexplicably Asian to most people, but on the inside I feel more multifaceted.

My mother has always called our traditional Chinese dresses, cheongsams (長衫) though they can also be referred to as qipao (旗袍). Since it seems universally acceptable to use either term interchangeably, I have chosen to stick with the term, cheongsam. For more details about the cheongsam in the context of Lunar New Year, click here.

Cultural identity can be complicated. I think for most Americans, especially those who fought tooth and nail for a seat at the table, it’s an ongoing struggle. Nowadays, biracial couples, families, and partnerships are becoming more and more common. The blending of cultures can also result in a mixture of religious identities and create tolerance while families build new Americanized traditions. As for me, I always identified as Asian American, but more so with an emphasis on being American. But what does it mean to be American? Citizens, lawmakers, and immigrants alike have all asked this simple question. I think that there is no singular answer to such an open-ended question. I think that the beauty of America is that there is no one way to “be American”. There is beauty in the limitless diversity, possibility, and inclusivity. We decide what it means to be American and isn’t that the greatest gift of all?

Now it’s hard to write about traditional clothing without mentioning cultural appropriation. In a nutshell, I believe that it’s up to the ethnic group to decide what they deem culturally appropriate or not. It’s not for the majority or the outsider to decide; after all, the only people that can truly understand the meaning and values behind something as sacred as traditional garments are only those from that very culture. As you are probably aware, there are a countless number of cultural appropriation examples, some have been up for hot debate while others, I think most people could agree that such instances might have been tacky, thoughtless, or cheap.

I’m not here to argue or be the determining voice on behalf of my deeply complex heritage, but I do want to educate and kindly inform those that might be unfamiliar that wearing traditional clothing is a privilege to both the wearer and/or guest to which the privileged has been bestowed upon. Centuries of history, human emotion, tradition, culture, and revolution make up the very fabric of such garments which is why I believe that cultural clothing should not to be treated just like any other. It’s sacred, you could almost say even spiritual.

Nevertheless, I do believe that the experience of wearing cultural clothing can be shared in ways that are both beneficial and respectful. In Kyoto, Japan renting a kimono is a popular tourist activity and one that I would love to do once I get the chance to visit. In my own experience, I’ve worn both traditional Kenyan and Indian clothing since I have friends like myself that love their cultural garments and are kind enough to share them with me. To me, it’s the highest honor and most exciting opportunity to explore the experience of wearing another culture’s traditional clothing. I feel immersed and my perspective shifted as I dive into the fabrics of a different culture’s world. I feel lucky to have such a diverse groups of friends, all of which make my reality truly feel like a melting pot.

This hand-painted fan is a gift from my brother. He brought it back from his travels through Taiwan and it’s something that I’ll always cherish. Plus, peonies are my favorite flowers.

In closing, I hope my short essay about my thoughts on cultural clothing, appropriation, and identity help shed some light on where I’m coming from both metaphorically and literally. Cultural identity is something that is constantly transforming and shifting in my head. Even amongst my own family and across several generations, I know that my family’s cultural identity is always changing.

So I would like to ask you: What does cultural identify mean to you? How do you identify? Do you wear your cultural clothing? If so, what are the garments called and when would you wear them?

xx

Ella Kol