Oscha Bush Medicine designed by Elizabeth Close
Cultural Appropriation
We’re thrilled to have talented Elizabeth Close, Aboriginal artist
and blogger who has collaborated with local and international
babywearing brands, write for us about cultural appropriation.
So, it’s late. Too late, really. Dead-of-night late. So late that
most reasonable people are fast asleep. I’m breastfeeding
my baby and facebooking, and someone has tagged me
in a thread about cultural appropriation. A comment was
made by an Australian babywearer, words to the effect
of, “This is all so over the top! Why are we wasting time
with this politically correct stuff? Isn’t babywearing about
holding our babies close?! This is just a waste of time!”
Deep breath, Liz. Deep breath.
The fact is that I encounter this type of vague,
privileged commentary often: middle-class white
people who often can’t see past their white privilege
enough to be able listen and learn from marginalised
groups. And as an Aboriginal woman, babywearer and
someone who has taught cultural competence, I aim to
politely and succinctly share my perspective. Often it
isn’t received well, but I figure I have to try, because that
voice has to come from somewhere. Back to the matter
at hand - so what is the problem with what she said?
As a term, cultural appropriation isn’t widely
understood. Often when people are accused of
appropriating the culture of others, they automatically
assume they’re being called racist, which just isn’t
true. So what is cultural appropriation? In its most
basic definition, cultural appropriation is “When
someone adopts aspects of a culture that is not
their own.” (Johnson, 2015). However, a far deeper
understanding on how and when this becomes
problematic is more to do with power imbalance:
“When aspects of a culture that has been systematically
oppressed, are adopted by members of the dominant
culture that has oppressed them.” (Johnson, 2015).
The inherent problem with dismissing cultural
appropriation as a concept is that it comes from a
place of privilege. It means that white people can
ignore the effects of cultural appropriation because
it doesn’t affect them because of the benefits
afforded to white people through white privilege.
So how is this related to babywearing? Babywearing
is an ancient practice, borne from necessity. Whilst
there are examples of babywearing in early Europe, the
overwhelming majority of babywearing happens in
developing countries, and happens through necessity
with whatever fabric they have to hand. It is learnt
woman-to-woman. It is the antithesis of middle-class
white women learning to double hammock with a $200
purpose-made woven wrap and a doll, while watching
YouTube. And this isn’t to say that the developing
world has ownership of babywearing, just that we
need to be aware of, and acknowledge our position
of privilege and pay homage to those women.
For more information about white
privilege, I recommend this article.
Regarding cultural appropriation in the natural
parenting community in general, (Sian Hannagan 2015)
14
carried away | Spring 2015 | Cultural Appropriation
Anangu woman Marcena
enjoying her custom Ergo
Liz decorates for Ergobaby and Tula for charity auctions
sums it up perfectly: “When it comes to the physiological
nurturing of infants, no one ‘owns’ that relationship you
build with your baby. However having an awareness of
how we integrate elements of other cultural approaches
into our day to day nurturing is important. Many people
feel they are honouring a certain culture when they
take traditions into their own cultural narrative. But this
is not always based on a true and honest exchange.”
Carrier Design
Cultural appropriation of
designs and iconography in the
babywearing world is another
topic that has been hotly debated
of late. Indigenous designs
on woven baby wraps and
whether or not they constitute
cultural appropriation has been
discussed with gusto. Scottish compan H