Being a Pakistani-American living in the United States, often involves an attempt to navigate yourself in between two different, and often clashing, cultures. I always grew up with the fears of assimilation and forgetting my roots; but also, with a struggle to relate to other Americans and understand the complexities of my dual identity. In attempts to represent my heritage and show that I was proud to be Pakistani, I recall often wearing different Pakistani jewelry and clothes. This included beautiful, round, jhumkay earrings, golden payaal anklets, and even the occasional tikka. As I came to the University of Virginia, I found other Pakistanis and South Asians who also wore similar jewelry. It seemed like through these small forms of expression; we were able to relate to one another without speaking a single word. This created a sense of solidarity and group identity that only people within the group were able to recognize. Through these accessories, we could explore our complexities and resist assimilation in ways unrecognizable to our white peers and colleagues. By creating this space, we begin to resist hegemonic ways of thinking in which whiteness is enforced and quantified. Rather, through jewelry and clothing, we create a non-white place in which our heritage is forced to be seen and physically acknowledged.

        I was curious to understand how other minority students, similar to my own Pakistani community, use their jewelry and clothing to express their identity. As I heard the stories of my friends and peers, I found many common trends all surrounding a single theme: resistance. No matter how small or large; or how bright or dull; each item was a form of resisting against the more powerful – both in ideology and in practicality. At the University of Virginia, specifically, resistance was created by forming an alternative identity in a community and educational culture that is predominantly white and patriarchal. Many students were unaware of the historical, cultural significance of the items they wore; however, they can still feel the power and importance of these pieces when they wear them today. An integral component in feeling this empowerment is through the sense of solidarity these items create. Not only is an individual identity represented; but also, a group identity is simultaneously formed. Many students expressed that the items they wore were only understandable and comprehensible to people in the same community as their own. Thus, they were able to form a group that empowers each other to continue resisting.

        I chose to express these ideas through photography in order to represent the same physicality the items, themselves, possess. There is power in the visual acknowledgement that occurs when people must see these items in real life; thus, I wanted to recreate this power through photographs. I also did not want to speak on behalf of stories that aren’t mine. Therefore, I interviewed the people I photographed, and asked them to describe their stories and experiences in their own words. Through this, I was able to hear the more nuanced, practical, human side of the theories in my head. Furthermore, I used their own words to explain their items in order to empower those voices and to avoid misrepresenting the personal meanings of their acts of resistance. As with any project, this work was limited, and only heard the stories of select minority students at the University of Virginia. This project is not representative of the minority experience everywhere. Similarly, I feel it’s important to understand the limitations of these small acts of resistance. Although they are powerful and empowering, these acts are not meant to replace or undermine higher-risk and more radical activism. Rather, I see these small acts of resistance as tools of identity and community-building that can help to organize the larger revolution.

 

 

Credits: Co-authored by Ibtisaam Amin, Hibah Berhanu, Jasmine Mao, Nyles Rome, Noor Samee, Frank Valdez, Yahya Suid, and Nati Yohannes