Social media has made educating the world on cultures and traditions easier. However, as fashion continues to move forward, TikTok influencers are rebranding cultural fashion as beauty trends. Such fashion — reserved for tradition –– is popularized by people unfamiliar with the history, stirring controversy in comment sections.

Henna art blew up on TikTok around 2020 after the COVID-19 pandemic settled in and teens everywhere were eager to get crafty at home. Predominantly white women and girls used the plant-based dye to stain temporary freckles on their faces. Some users of South Asian descent labeled the trend as cultural appropriation.

When my friend, who is not South Asian or Indian, asked if she could use my family’s henna — or what we call mehndi — to apply fake freckles to her face, I remember thinking it was odd of her to be suddenly interested in it after I had been traditionally wearing the stains on my hand for years.

I realized then that my culture was noticed, but never recognized.

My preteen peers would point out and question why my family looked or dressed the way they did. Of course, some respectfully asked about the meaning behind the designs or saris my grandma would wear, but until it was seen on social media, I was practically an alien.

TikTok wasn’t popular until I was in middle school. Before that, it was hard for me to embrace my Indian heritage. I grew up in a predominantly white town of less than 2,000 people. My family was the only Indian family for a long time. It was hard to grow up proud of my culture when people around me constantly dismissed it, particularly my fashion.

I will admit that I felt seen whenever traditional Bollywood dances or wedding saris would go viral on TikTok, and I’m sure others can agree. It made me feel less like the odd one out. Instead, people wanted to be me and wished they had some culture like mine. It was a weird observation for a 15-year-old to analyze.

It doesn’t stop at ethnicity-based culture. There are fashion trends that derive from U.S. subcultures, such as Black and Latino descent, that were rebranded on social media.

The popular oversized T-shirts and baggy jeans originate from Black families, who often have to rely on hand-me-downs to save money. Nike and Air Jordans were simply sneakers until rappers and celebrities popularized them into the status symbols they are today. Even gold earrings, once worn by Sumerian women in ancient Mesopotamia, grew in popularity among Black and Latina women. Now, white women everywhere are wearing gold hoops.

There are many other examples, but this raises the question of why these became popular on TikTok in the first place.

Marilyn DeLong, professor emerita at the College of Design at the University of Minnesota, said social media makes it easier for people to stay up-to-date with fashion.

“When you see something on the internet, and it registers in your brain, you think, ‘Oh, that looks modern,’” DeLong said. “So the next time you see that thing, in a shop or on a catalog, then there’s a desire to have that.”

DeLong said most cultural fashion trends could result from multiple reasons. There’s the social aspect, the desire to fit into the norm and a personal aspect that speaks to you and you alone. 

DeLong said Ralph Lauren, a fairly high-end brand of clothing that grew in popularity in the 1990s, often takes inspiration from Native American motifs. 

“If you look at style as a recognizable pattern that can be repeated, then (Ralph Lauren) is using ‘Americana’ as a theme in almost every style he designs,” DeLong said. “But anything that’s a part of someone’s history needs to be respected.”

Depending on the trend, respect can fall either way. Gold hoops have been popular for a long time and normalized to be modern. The same could be said about acrylic nails, even though specific demographics, such as Black women, wore them more than others. Cultural clothing, such as the Chinese hanfu or Indian sari, should be worn correctly and researched in order to respect their origin. 

Julie Shaw, a second-year student at the University, said cultural fashion now tends to aim for gratification rather than honoring.

“I think white women kinda adopt these trends and then it’s seen as more upper class and something more desirable, a wealth symbol,” Shaw said. “The issue comes when there’s gentrification and no recognition of where (the trend) stems from.”

Shaw brought up  Hailey Bieber’s “brownie lip,” a lip liner look created by Bieber to recreate iconic brown-lined lips often worn by Black and Latina women in the ‘90s. Women of color spoke out against the lip combo’s name and educated viewers on its true origin. People found it odd that Bieber, a white woman, tried to rally up a trend that wasn’t new.

The same goes for Kim Kardashian’s “Bo Derek” braids which are a play on cornrows, a hairstyle originating from African women. 

The rebranding of cultural fashion and beauty continues to rub me the wrong way. The fight for a tradition of their own is something I’ve seen in white culture. As someone who’s half-white, half-Indian, I’ve had to experience both worlds. 

Vyan Abdullah, a first-year student, said people don’t want to homogenize fashion, but microtrends make it difficult for ethnicities and demographics to identify with their culture.

“The U.S. is very heterogeneous, like people share cultures and that’s okay,” Abdullah said. “The important thing to remember, especially within fashion, is that fashion should reflect the heterogeneity of said culture.”

I’ve come to the same conclusion as most people on the internet — do thorough research. 

I can only leave readers with the advice to be careful jumping on a trend train. Do some background research. If it seems off, such as Bieber’s lip combo, there could be some context left unsaid. I believe when done correctly, trends can spread education on the culture and enhance a safer space to indulge in fashion.

“I don’t think it’s all bad,” Shaw said. “I think there is a space for it, and there is a space for appreciation.”