This summer, the “Scandinavian scarf” took Tik-Tok by storm. The only thing is, the Scandinavian scarf isn’t Scandinavian — it’s Indian. Coined in the 1980s, cultural appropriation is the co-opting of cultural ideas or
practices, often from a marginalized community, without credit or acknowledgment. Over the years, the term has become increasingly prevalent in conversations about colonialism and ethnocentrism. Acts of cultural appropriation
are so woven into the fabric of our society that they can belargely undetectable, and today’s influencer culture exacerbates this process through microtrends and their vitality. In the context of social media, culturally appropriated trends often follow a similar pattern: An influencer sees someone post clothing, food, or something else unique to their culture, and then commandeers it, in the process renaming as something trendy and buzzword-y to get the algorithm engaged. This video – not the original – gets on For You pages, and media consumers unwittingly popularize it. The trend goes viral, lasting two weeks to a month before being cycled out of the mainstream.
The “Scandinavian scarf” is a perfect example of appropriation gone viral. One fashion influencer on TikTok posts a white woman in a blouse, a long draping skirt, and a long shawl-like scarf. She then asks, “What are we classifying this wedding guest vibe as, because I’m literally so obsessed with it. Scandinavian wedding guest? I don't know, but it’s very European.” A sari, for those unaware, is a wardrobe staple for Indian women dating back centuries. It consists of a blouse, a long draping skirt, and a “long shawl-like scarf” — Wikipedia’s definition of a dupatta.
The term “Scandinavian scarf,” i.e. dupatta, goes viral, following the pattern. Now, the originator of the trend
is not solely to blame for her obliviousness; ignorance is a long-lasting trend across any social media platform. But
these seemingly simple acts of carelessness give way to a cultural erasure from the media, and have scarring consequences. And often, it’s the double standards that are the most harmful.
Let’s take another trend that originated from South Asia: hair oiling. There’s a word in Hindi to describe hair
oiling, “sneha,” highlighting the practice’s significance to Indian communities. It is but one minute part of the 5,000
year old Ayurvedic science, the Indian key to wellness. Growing up, Sundays were a torment: My mother would have my head between her knees, hands full of coconut oil, vigorously massaging my head and giving me a headache.
Then, I hated oiling. It had a way of staying in the hair long after washing, and I was scared of being perceived as “greasy” and “dirty” by my classmates, most of whom lacked knowledge of the practice, thus falling into a racist stereotype that has plagued perceptions of Indians for decades.
The word sneha has another meaning as well: “to love.” Now I see oiling as my mother’s form of affection, giving me the thick and healthy hair I am grateful for today.
Today, I wonder: Would I have felt so ashamed if the hair oiling trend had surfaced 10 years earlier?
Would I have felt so alienated if everyone around me had slicked back hair, as they do today?
This is why cultural appropriation matters so much, and why I don’t blame my younger self at all for the self-hatred I felt. Embracing a part of a culture only when it’s convenient for you and not acknowledging its history is a form of modern colonialism — in fact, exactly what happened to the indigenous people after the arrival of the Europeans.
There is only one solution to this exploitation: cultural appreciation. The original creator of the “Scandinavian Scarf” trend could have shown genuine curiosity about the origins of the clothing; when you have a platform with 300K
followers, I think you can spare a little time to do your research.
By appreciating rather than appropriating, we honor cultures in their full richness, history, and meaning. In the end, we, as participants in social media, have a duty, too. We should support uplifting creators who can educate us about culture in its many forms. When context is missing, run, don’t walk, to Google.