Once, X told me, “How can you be an Adivasi if you’re not wearing leaves?”
Many of us have heard such comments from our 'diku' friends, sometimes framed as a joke, sometimes as a supposedly “curious” question, and other times as sarcasm meant to demean us. The point, however, is not necessarily to fight back or resist loudly. Resistance can take the shape you choose for it. Even if you decide not to respond in that moment, what matters is that these remarks should never stop us from claiming our identity.
One person’s ignorance should not place us in a position where we feel ashamed of who we are. Our culture is ours, to live, to protect, and to express without allowing it to be appropriated by others. Whether it is our dance, music, poems, artifacts, paintings, or any other art form that speaks of our identity and existence, we must claim it again and again.
A crucial way to protect our culture is by keeping our languages alive. We must not let them become extinct. When dominant cultures speak about their traditions, we should tell our own stories in our own languages. Let our Adivasi languages find a place in educational institutions — in journals, articles, stories, and research papers. Even if it is just two lines in our language within an academic paper, let it be there. Make it a point.
We should never feel ashamed to claim our political rights, including reservations. These rights were not gifts; our ancestors fought for them through long and difficult struggles. We are bound to claim them with pride.
If resistance needs to be loud, let it be loud. Let it be direct and unapologetic when necessary. But always remember: the very "visibility" of our Adivasi identity is itself an act of resistance. Never allow anyone to break us to the point where we are ashamed of it. Let our silence also speak volumes about our existence.
