On my dating profile are six pictures, and three are of me in a saree. While I expected some people to make assumptions about me, I thought I’d just go with it because, why not? And in came the messages:
“I never thought someone wearing a saree would be so progressive.”
“You’re not who I thought you would be, you look so traditional in your profile.”
Surprise at some apparent contrast between my appearance and my personality. Why?
Because a woman in a saree doesn’t shout, she whispers. A woman in a saree wants kids, she doesn’t have unconventional opinions and doesn’t walk down the street shouting, “Bans off our bodies.”
I’ll be honest, if I could, I’d probably have fewer pictures of myself in a saree on my profile but I’m not much of a picture-taker. I take pictures when I feel beautiful, and that’s usually when I’m in a saree – hence, a lack of picture variety on my phone.
However, today we’re not here to talk about the ups and downs of my dating life. I’m here to tell you that a woman in a saree can. She can be whoever, do whatever, and go wherever.
Let’s go back to the beginning. My first introduction to my five-yard sanctuary was when I was about five years old, my mother was pregnant and my grandmother visited us to help out.
Sure, my mother wore a saree for occasions, but my grandmother wore one every single day. That was new to me. The weaves of occasion now were the weaves of routine, of comfort. My grandmother did everything in her sarees. The folds and tucks didn’t stop her. She was able to go about her day just as anyone in a pair of sweatpants could.
My grandmother crossed the ocean to come and help my mother during her pregnancy. Years later, I would realize that what she did wasn’t the norm. Paternal grandmothers didn’t make their way across the world to help their daughters-in-law in a patriarchal society. Paternal grandmothers didn’t support childcare as much as mine did. That was the first time I recognized a woman around me defy a norm. She did this with a grace that was only complemented by her attire.
Moving forward over a decade, a lot of my classmates were, first of all, surprised that I know how to drape a saree myself and secondly, wondered how I manage to walk around in it.
On the other hand, there’s me, in front of the mirror, falling in love over and over with the same garment worn by millions of women before me. Women going through struggles like (and worse) than mine woke up and went through the familiar folding and draping process before taking on their day. I find refuge when I put on a saree, knowing that I have the strength of all the women that came before me, within me. I feel connected to every woman that contributed to my being there, at that very moment.
All of this has led to me wearing a saree as a statement, a rebellion. Those five yards don’t confine the possibilities of my actions but rather, push me to thrive.
As a believer in genderless fashion, my dream is for young children to see people like me and know that a person in a saree can be anything they want to be. The stereotypes about people wearing sarees are outdated, it’s time we move on. My saree is not weird, my saree is me.
My saree does not contradict the fact that I write, that I have opinions, that I protest, that I work for a nonprofit, or that I have a tattoo. My saree, just like all the things I listed, is a part of my personality – not a border around it.
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