The Halloweekend has just passed, and like that game with fortune cookies where you add “in bed” to the end of every warning and prediction (my most recent fortune works particularly well, “be careful today so you don’t find yourself in mud . . . in bed,”) we saw the usual array of costume identities edited by “half naked.”
Most of us are used to Halloween sluttiness by this point, and hey, it’s kinda fun. You’ve got the traditional spooky ensembles (Half Naked Witch, Half Naked Vampire), the male-fantasy-induced stripper looks, also very solid choices (Half Naked Cop, Half Naked Nurse), the fuzzies (Half Naked Cat, Half Naked Mouse), the sort of clever (Half Naked Dust Bunny – the important bits were covered with that polyester fiberfill stuff) and the perpetually problematic — Half Naked Cultural Appropriation.
It seems that every year at Halloween, we still have to go through the process of explaining to some poor, embarrassed celebrity why blackface isn’t ok. A few years ago, when American Apparel and Urban Outfitters started selling Navajo-print backpacks and turquoise jewelry, there were plenty of incisive remarks about the appropriation of Indian culture.
Cultural appropriation is something I think about a lot – in case you’re wondering, given the name of this blog, I talk about it here – and, amongst a sea of bloggers denouncing dream catcher earrings and feathers in any form, I question whether it’s always wrong to emulate aspects of another culture that you like. For many folks, dressing up as a Native American was a pretty normalized choice to make growing up, so it’s interesting that the particularly impolitic ubiquity of the ‘hipster headdress’ – which has recently become a not-just-Halloween accessory on the summer festival circuit – has helped put the definitive kibosh on the flippant use of indigenous dress. The Half Nakedness with which this item has popularly been accompanied during dance festivals and Halloweentimes (both socially acceptable occasions to be in little more than underwear on the Best Coast) has actually helped hasten the understanding that this is a disrespectful move, given the warbonnet’s deep ceremonial ties.
But it also reminded me of a few weeks last year when the term ‘hipster racism’ was much bandied about – raising a lot of great points – but the most significant point, to me, was that though the phenomenon and its implications had been written about for years, it didn’t ignite the fires of internet pontification until the theme was adopted by a white blogger in reference to, among other things, a popular show (Girls) about four white women, written by white women. Scandal ensued when one of the writers bristled at complaints that no minorities were featured in what had been, at that point, only one episode. Whitewashing in television is a serious concern, but it’s also, as TV critic Judy Berman cogently pointed out when the show tried to address the issue, a tricky sort of damned-if-you-do-damned-if-you-don’t situation no matter how it’s handled. It left me wondering about our troubled relationship to race in general, and if our reactions focused on pointing out the squirrely, persistent nature of problem sometimes make it worse by causing further division. After all, how do we know where cultural (mis)appropriation ends, and the good ol’ melting potting begins?
Food is a universal, the share and share alike of cultural trading. No one gets upset when a black person eats a burrito or a white person has dim sum . . . I don’t think. Language, for the most part, seems ok to share — a whole host of guttural, spit-inducing words have migrated from Yiddish to standard American English, and no one seems to kvetch about it. Music is a little more trouble — we are definitely uncomfortable with white people making acoustic covers of rap and hip hop songs, for a host a reasons that are probably good. But clothing is a particularly tricky issue. Putting on a costume is different than drinking sake because, in a way, it is intended to literally transform the wearer, allowing them to effectively act for the culture represented. With the new identity, actions take on additional significance. Costumes yield the power to mock, undermine, insult. . . but also, this cartoon notwithstanding, to celebrate.
One of my favorite traditions from living in San Francisco’s Mission is celebrating Dia de los Muertos. Cleveland’s Hispanic population is still small, and Day of the Dead is not really universal there. But in the Mission, everyone celebrates. Beautiful shrines are built along the streets, where people mill about exchanging marigolds and leaving notes and gifts for their dearly departed. And everyone – white, black, Mexican, whatever – paints their face.
When I came across this cogently written article, from a Chicana who grew up on the San Diego/Tijuana border, about non-Latin people wearing skull makeup, I felt the familiar uneasiness – the same one I got every year growing up when my school held ‘Diversity Day.’ It was the feeling of having a faint objection, but not knowing quite how to frame it. But delving a bit deeper into to writer’s website provided the answer.
About herself, she writes “I come from a family of migrants who truly deconstruct the meaning of the U.S./Mex border. Seeing their struggles, how they were marginalized, discriminated, and yet being a product of their survival and resistance, I find my inspiration to come from them first.”
Indeed, her posts reveal a strong character and sharp political mind, cementing her identity as an " anti-border, sex-positive, body-positive, fighter of the patriarchy [who is] constantly learning to deconstruct binaries and barriers.”
But (and since her background is not my background, perhaps I am in no position to question) it did leave me wondering: couldn’t an effective part of deconstructing barriers include (respectful) sharing of celebrations and cultural rights?
I don’t think there are any definite answers, but if you, like me, find yourself drawn to the joyful remembrance and celebration of loved ones passed (definitely a happier alternative to the morose approach we take here in America), or any other custom from a culture which isn’t yours, perhaps check out this useful guide before whipping out the white face paint.