What If We Let Them Call It Chai Tea?
Cultural curiosity, imperfect appreciation, and human pride
Every time someone orders a "chai tea latte" at Starbucks, somewhere in the world, a South Asian person explodes. It's true, I've seen it happen.
The linguistic redundancy (tea tea anyone?) makes your ears bleed…if you're 'in the know' that is. But what if the instinct to correct and to feel personally affronted by cultural fumbles says more about us than it does about the culprit?
The Simu Liu boba tea controversy from last year, where the actor called out a Quebecois company on Canada's Dragons' Den for claiming they had "transformed" traditional bubble tea into something better, is just one of the many cultural appropriation instances we have watched play out, especially poignantly, in the digital world.
And I wonder, is it about cultural pride…or just our ego?
Let Me Correct You Real Quick
There's something deeply human about wanting to be the expert of your own experience. When my white South African Yoga teacher confidently explained the ancient wisdom of yoga while maybe butchering Sanskrit terms, I felt it. That urge to correct.
Except I ended up learning more Sanskrit nuances from her classes than from my own family. And we have a Sanskrit scholar in our midst.
But let's be honest about what draught comes in with that feeling. It's not just about cultural preservation. It's about being seen as the authority on something that you feel belongs to you. It's about saying, I know this better than you do, and most importantly…I want you to feel that.
Sweet Taste Of Revenge
Perhaps there's something else at play here? Perhaps sometimes our corrections aren't about culture at all. They're about revenge. Revenge for every time we were told our food smelled (some white people really hate their senses being assaulted), and our traditions were too weird. Revenge for being othered, and now finally having the opportunity to other someone else.
And you know what? This impulse is human. I would argue it's even justified, given centuries of cultural dismissal and appropriation for profit.
But is it helpful?
A “well, actually…” can shape whether we build a bridge or end up alienating a new friend.
Mispronounce Masala, But Make It Respectful
Here's what I've learned (and often need to remind myself) from living between cultures, intention is all that matters, even when execution is imperfect. My yoga instructor mispronouncing Sanskrit might be clumsy, but she's introducing people to something beautiful…and reminding me of my roots! When my partner, who six years ago claimed not to like Indian food, orders naan bread (yes, bread bread), it's his way of admitting how wrong he was.
This doesn't mean we should accept everything, though. There's a thin line between appreciation and appropriation. But let’s allow space for the middle ground where cultural conversation can happen.
Authentic Culture. A Lie.
And another thing…isn't "pure" culture a fantasy? Traditions we hold sacred are really a remix of something else. The British didn't invent afternoon tea, they adopted it from Chinese tea culture and made it their own. Italian tomatoes came from the Americas. The Japanese tempura? Introduced by Portuguese missionaries in the 16th century.
I really must write about how the Portuguese have so deliciously enhanced and flavoured many cuisines.
Even our most cherished cultural markers are products of centuries of borrowing, adapting, and even appropriating. The yoga I, like so many of you, practice today was transformed by Western interest in the 19th century.
Don't Mock Then Monetise
Of course, not all cultural use is created equal. The reason it stings and is also quite comical when Western brands profit from the exoticness that some of us were mocked for using isn't just about appropriation; it's about centuries of being told our ways were odd, only to watch them suddenly become trendy when repackaged with a branded Western bow.
But here's what I believe is crucial, calling out power dynamics should not mean we reject all cultural curiosity. Instead, we should get pragmatic about distinguishing between exploitation and appreciation. And calling it out wisely when it is the former.
The colleague who asks about Diwali traditions, even if they call it "the festival of lights"? Perhaps that's just honest curiosity worth nurturing.
Cultural Vigilantes Assemble
Let's have faith in our culture, that it isn't fragile. It doesn't disappear when someone else approaches it imperfectly. If anything, it grows richer through conversation and more resilient through the mess. Let’s meet imperfect appreciation with generosity. See, our ego can be channelled for the good, too.
Have you ever caught yourself being a cultural vigilante? I'd love to hear your stories of fumbles, corrections, and connections.
This article purposefully does not touch upon negative systemic impacts or the painful reality of cultural survival. This is not a gesture of trivialising the matter; there are simply far better authors out there who cover such poignant discussions.