The Problem with Color Runs

I’ve been wanting to write a piece on how terrible color run events are vis-à-vis cultural appropriation, but desi writers have already done it much better than I could, so I’m largely going to quote and link back to them.

“Come uncultured, leave uncultured, that’s the Color Run, promise,” writes Nadya Agrawal at Brown Girl Magazine blog.

Color runs are 5k events at which participants wear white and run, walk, and dance while being dusted with colored powder, followed by a festival with more color throwing, music, and dance.

“That would’ve been an original idea if Indians hadn’t been doing it for hundreds, if not thousands of years,” Agrawal points out.

The practice comes from the springtime Hindu festival called Holi. “And at Holi, we don’t simply throw colors in each other’s faces,” Agrawal says, “it’s a place to play with people you love and revel in the vibrancy of spring.”

Prerna Abbi writes, “I’m a big fan of interfaith literacy as a vehicle for appreciation. But sometimes appreciation can turn into appropriation, and it’s important to know the difference.” (emphasis mine)

In order to determine which one the events promote, Abbi asks:
“When people go to The Color Run, do they learn about the story behind Holi? Do they learn about how this festival brings people together across faith, class, and other social lines? Do they walk away appreciating that Holi is a significant celebration for Hindus around the world? Do they know about Holi’s influence on the event at all?”

The events are undeniably appropriative. Does the value of introducing millions of people to the sport of running outweigh the impact of whitewashing this Hindu celebration, doing nothing to promote desi culture, and making obscene profits for ignorant white folk? I doubt it.

What can we do about it? We can keep writing, keep talking, keep informing our friends, and suggest alternative fun runs that feature other amusing gimmicks such as foam, zombies, obstacles, costumes, black lights, and more.

We can hope that the events will inspire some people to learn about Holi and cultural appropriation and work to make better choices in the future, as was the case for me. I didn’t think much about signing up for a Graffiti Run because it sounded like fun, but I didn’t enjoy the event because it was crowded, overpriced, and an ugly course. I later learned more about Holi and had the pleasure of attending a local Holi event, which—in stark contrast contrast to the “fun run” it inspired—was an indescribably joyful experience and for me a pivotal moment during a severe bout of depression.

I am deeply grateful for the opportunity to properly appreciate and celebrate Holi. And I hope you’ll try to do the same.

Cultural Appropriation in Racing

I rail about the color runs and how they stole a beautiful Hindu cultural tradition for profit and how much it frustrates me that people see this profile photo and ask me about the Color Run when in fact it is from a local Holi festival this year.

But I signed up for Cinco de Miler and Cinco de Muddo without a thought about cultural appropriation. There's a big difference between appropriation and celebration; the short explanation is demonstrating respect versus mocking the culture.

I went to the Cinco de Miler for the celebratory atmosphere, cool t-shirt, and the chance to run a 5-mile race, a race distance I'd never run before. Many participants dressed up in sombreros and luchador masks, and I saw one woman running in a full-body taco costume. I was ignorant. They were mocking. The race claims to celebrate "Mexico's colorful culture," which is NOT what Cinco de Mayo celebrates, and it supported the Ronald McDonald House Charities — Dallas.

No. Just stop.

At Cinco de Muddo, we got free samples of tequila. If there was anything questionable at the event, I didn't see it. The mariachi band and flamenco dancers were gone before I arrived. This event made money off the Cinco de Mayo celebration but/and benefited the Sharkarosa Wildlife Ranch, which houses and rehabilitates rescued wildlife.

The issue of cultural appropriation as related to these events only occurred to me after the fact, so I did some research. Cinco de Mayo is a small Mexican holiday with about as much fanfare as the United States' Flag Day. It commemorates an unlikely victory at the Battle of Puebla in 1862. In the US, we typically celebrate by dressing up in sombreros and mustaches and getting falling-down drunk on the basis that that's how to celebrate Mexican culture. It's mocking, it's rude, and it's wrong. So it's very American:

We completely forget about the true meaning behind the day. Instead, we get giant store displays of beer and tortilla chips stating things like: “Corona de Mayo” and “It’s Cinco, let’s salsa!” Because obviously the only way to engage others in this holiday is through beer and tortilla chips. I always dread the few weeks before Cinco de Mayo because of these stereotyped displays. All they do is trivialize the holiday and push people back into further ignorance about the significance of the day. Cinco de Mayo has come to be known as more of a drinking and partying holiday than anything else, which is wrong.

I mentioned the charities above because other racing events, such as Chicago's Carrera de los Muertos 5k, manage to create a race based on a cultural tradition AND support local charities that benefit the Hispanic community. Unlike the Dallas events that didn't even bother.

I'll think twice about participating next year and see if I can get in touch with the event organizers about my concerns before I do. Cinco de Miler sent out a thorough post-race survey with ample opportunity for me to speak my mind about the event. At least it's something.

It's a process, and every month I learn something new that I ought to look for in future races so I can responsibly vote with my dollars for basic respect of others.

Is it cultural appropriation?

I was SO excited to find a beautiful Indian garment in my size and a good color for me at Goodwill this week. I can't wait to wear to the next Amtgard (medieval combat recreation and fantasy social club) event.

And then a few days later, I thought, Oh shit. Is this cultural appropriation? Am I even allowed to wear this? It's not as if I'm going to wear it to work or around town; I really only want to wear it at this particular social event where it would fit in very well, and another white lady costumer whom I respect has also worn Indian Goodwill garb there, but I don't even know.

I've worn cholis and saris combined with other garments to create awful bastardizations before, but now I know better and am going to try harder. (No, I don't expect a cookie or a pat on the head. This is my personal blog about my personal journey, and I try to use my privilege to raise awareness and teach. The issue of white legitimization of other cultures is a topic for another day.)

Not cool, Past Me.

So now I have some reading and research to do and need to examine my intentions.

It's clothing that is pretty and comfortable to wear and will protect me from the sun. It fits my persona of being a world traveler who has no set "style" but samples from different genres and sometimes cultures. My motivation is admiration not mockery.

It's an everyday object not sacred or holy. It's not half as ostentatious as the hot pink and turquoise piece I originally had my eye on. What the hell is this garb called? Maybe I should learn that. From Wikipedia:

Shalwar kameez, also spelled salwar kameez or shalwar qameez, is a traditional dress of South and Central Asia, especially of Afghanistan and Pakistan, where it is worn by both men and women. In India it is worn mostly by women. It is also worn by women in Bangladesh. Shalwar are loose pajama-like trousers. The legs are wide at the top, and narrow at the ankle. The kameez is a long shirt or tunic, often with a western-style collar . . .

Yay for learnin things! Tunics and loose pants comprise most of the garb worn at Amtgard, and this piece is a modern version of a historically accurate outfit. This garment differs from those used for specific religious and festival occasions.

The Shalwar kameez is sometimes known as "Punjabi suit," in Britain^[3] and Canada.^[4] In Britain, especially during the last two decades, the garment has been transformed from an everyday garment worn by immigrant South Asian women from the Punjab region to one with mainstream, and even high-fashion, appeal.^[5]

In India, the garment was originally confined to the North, but as a convenient and modest alternative to a sari - and also as one that flatters practically any body-type - it has become popular across the nation. By varying the fabric, color and the level of embroidery and decoration, the salwar-kameez can be formal, casual, dressy, or plain; and it can also be made to suit practically all climates.

No one is profiting from my purchase except the poor in my community and the community of the person who donated the garment in the first place. Maybe my purchase is depriving low-income members of the culture from a needed garment. These gorgeous things do tend to sell quickly.

I read five pages of forum discussions on cultural appropriation, and all I can say is at least it's not fucking yoga, which I'm now more glad to have never liked in the first place. But one commenter did have this to say:

I think the difference is you specifically mentioned Native American regalia - which is different from wearing a salwar kameez or yukata because it is specifically sacred dress, and therefore less like eating a buche de noel and more like serving communion wafers at your party - it's not okay just because you got the little crosses just right.

Others think that using it for costuming is problematic because it's not a part of my culture. I have no inherited culture, so I'm not naturally sympathetic to the issue and have to work my way through mental contortions to even halfway "get it." I'll keep working at it and reading more and learning more.

All I can seem to find is more white people talking about what they think about cultural appropriation and no clear answers. Yes, it's appropriation, and inherently problematic, especially considering the history of British Imperialism. But I'm Polish, Czech, Italian, so does that matter? Sure, I could go ask some Indians about it, but no few of them are representative of the whole community, either.

Centuries of systematic oppression are such a pain in the ass.