It was just a normal trip to Jaipur. We weren’t dressed up — no lehengas, bangles, or “cultural wear.” Just jeans, T-shirts, and maybe a hoodie tied around the waist. It was casual and homey, nothing out of the ordinary for a group of people enjoying a break. And still, we were stared at like we didn’t belong in our own country.

Even in jeans and T-shirts, we were spectacles.

Foreign tourists didn’t just glance. They watched. Phones came out.

Photos were taken. Some filmed us openly, others tried to be discreet, as if we wouldn’t notice. We weren’t performing. We weren’t part of any festival. We were just… existing.

Not a Costume, Not Curiosity

But apparently, that was enough to become someone else’s content.

It wasn’t about what we wore or did. It was about what we represented: brownness, language, presence, seen as fascinating, simply because it was different. Even in a plain T-shirt, we were “exotic.” Even in our own city, we became objects of curiosity.

That’s the thing about cultural fetishization. It’s not always loud or obvious. Sometimes, it hides behind compliments or a camera lens. It’s the idea that some people’s everyday lives are more “interesting” or “authentic” — not because of who they are, but because they seem foreign.

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When Curiosity Becomes Entitlement

And I know — most people don’t mean harm.But intent doesn’t erase impact.

You wouldn’t film a group of white teenage girls walking down the street. You wouldn’t sneak a selfie just because someone “looked local.”So why is it okay when it’s us?

In that moment, I didn’t feel seen. I felt watched.Not angry — at first. Just deeply uncomfortable.

Like I had to shrink myself. Like joy made me too visible in the wrong way.

It's Not A Hashtag, I Live This

I live in India. This is my home, my reality — not a photoshoot backdrop. My culture is woven into my day-to-day: my dadi’s stories, thalis on the dinner table, Hindi songs playing in the background while I study. It’s not something I put on for effect.

But sometimes, even from here, I feel like I’m performing.Because of how the world looks at us.

It’s not just foreign tourists. It’s NRIs who romanticize India online but flinch when it smells like actual India. It’s influencers who wear bindis at music festivals like they invented the sun. It’s the chai tea lattes, the henna how-tos, the “desi girl aesthetic” worn like a costume, without context or care.

Go Beyond The Surface, Dig Deep

And I get it — culture is beautiful. It's layered, emotional, and full of meaning. But real appreciation isn’t just about surface-level fascination. It’s about understanding the history, the struggles, and the lived realities that come with it.

Because when you turn someone’s identity into an aesthetic or an accessory, it stops being admiration. It starts looking like entitlement.

It's Bigger Than India

And this isn’t just about India.

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All over the world, people are told their cultures are “beautiful” by the same systems that once tried to erase them.Black hairstyles are policed in classrooms, but praised on white influencers.Chinese food is mocked in lunchboxes, but celebrated at fusion restaurants run by people who can’t pronounce the dishes.Hijabs are framed as oppression, until a fashion house decides to call it “modest chic.”Indigenous prints show up at music festivals while Indigenous communities still fight for basic rights.

This happens everywhere.It’s constant. And it’s exhausting.

Culture Isn't a Trend

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Culture isn’t a thrift store. You can’t pick what looks good, skip the rest, and call it appreciation.You can’t want yoga but ignore the philosophy.Wear henna, but do not fast for Karva Chauth.Copy language but mock the accent.You can’t love our food but be disgusted when we eat with our hands.

Because when you say, “I’m obsessed with your culture,” what we often hear is:“I like the version of your identity that’s been filtered, softened, and made palatable for me.”

Listen. Learn. Respect

If you truly care, don’t just borrow our culture.Learn it. Respect it. Ask questions.

Sit with the uncomfortable parts. Celebrate the beautiful, yes — but acknowledge the painful too.

So, no — my culture isn’t just “cute.”It’s not a theme or a trend.It’s centuries of survival. It’s grief and joy and revolution.It’s my inheritance, not your inspiration.

And it deserves more than a passing glance or a flattering caption.

It deserves care. And curiosity. And respect.