Being a Child of the South Asian Diaspora Means Having Different Wardrobes
It was in California that I realized my liberation was tied to my choice in clothing
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During my teen years in New York City, I would take frequent trips to a local McDonald’s to use its public bathroom. There, I would shed layers of clothing and switch into a miniskirt before going out. Upon returning home, I would make a quick visit to the same restroom to disassemble my getup and return to a sweatshirt and jeans. I did this frequently enough that the manager and I were on a first-name basis. Many young, especially Muslim, South Asian women echo a similar tale of navigating personal style and home life. It’s a sartorial code switch.
My parents migrated to the United States from Bangladesh in 1991. I was not even born yet.
In my mother’s luggage was an iconic amount of dried fish and three saris that journeyed with her across the world. My earliest childhood memories are of me tugging on my mom’s dupatta to get her attention. When my mother would see other women who were strangers wearing salwar kameezes, she felt a sense of community. While my mother wore Bangladeshi clothes, my mother dressed me in American clothes, typically consisting of a hoodie and jeans. Her traditional dress practices shifted when she got a job as a cashier. To connect with her colleagues and appease urgings from her employer, she began wearing Western clothes.
I was around nine years old then. I felt an immediate shock witnessing my mother’s transformation, like she took off her skin and exchanged it for one with American homogeneity. Some Bangladeshi people on the streets would glare at her with confusion, as if choosing a cashmere sweater over a salwar kameez was an act of betrayal to her roots. Others would pity her, empathizing with the sacrifice immigrants have to make to survive in the United States. My mother mediates the spectrum of responses by prioritizing her comfort. She dreams of returning to Bangladesh, where she could wear her kurtas and salwars with ease. For now, convenience will have to do.
My mother’s traditional upbringing did not perfectly translate onto me. Unlike my mother, I was born and raised in the United States; I was immersed from my…
