Menu Menu
[gtranslate]

What is Jai Ho summer?

The latest Gen-Z internet trend is all about celebrating South Asian culture, without South Asians.

You’d be forgiven for thinking 2024 was the summer of all this Brat. But the internet’s latest obsession isn’t just about wearing lurid green and smoking a packet of Marlboro Reds.

This year, a new vibe has taken hold of the Gen-Z zeitgeist: Jai Ho Summer. And yes, that does refer to the 2008 Pussycat Dolls hit.

A colourful montage of travel snapshots and mood boards, #JaiHoSummer has infiltrated Instagram feeds with images and clips of people – to put it simply – having a fabulous time. But the meaning of the trend hasn’t been so forthcoming.

According to social media, it’s all about embodying and manifesting the joyful spirit of the song. The exuberant anthem is of course from Slumdog Millionaire, a 2008 film that, for better or worse, has become a pop culture touchstone for South Asian imagery in the West.

Despite being a relatively new addition to the zeitgeist, many have been quick to point out that there’s something disquieting about the way Jai Ho Summer glorifies South Asian culture without much, if any, involvement from South Asians themselves.

And as far-right violence and racism spreads across the UK, against the backdrop of a US Presidential race plagued by similar issues, the dissonance of celebrating chosen elements of South Asian culture feels particularly uncomfortable.

For many South Asians, these are not just statistics or headlines; they’re lived realities. Yet, while some influencers are busy painting a rosy, Instagram-friendly picture of South Asian culture, the actual people who live and breathe that culture are confronting real and dangerous challenges. The disconnect is glaring.

The rise of Jai Ho Summer comes at a time when South Asian communities are navigating increasingly hostile environments in the West. In the UK, far-right extremism has surged, with anti-immigrant sentiment taking on an aggressive tone that has made South Asian immigrants and their descendants feel unsafe in their own neighbourhoods.

Across the pond in the United States, the 2024 presidential campaign is being fuelled by xenophobic rhetoric, with candidates on the far-right platforming racist ideologies that target immigrant communities, including South Asians.

Social media users have been poking fun at the trend in their own ways, reclaiming the term and using it to highlight its irony.

‘If u want brown people to go back to their own country I’m taking Jai Ho with me [sic]’ said one TikTok user.

Others have used the song to highlight the lack of diversity that still makes taking part in popular socio-cultural trends difficult. One user shared a video of herself partying on holiday, with the caption ‘Jai Ho summer (I’m the only brown person in the Hamptons)’.

Unlike other instances of cultural appropriation, the Jai Ho summer trend doesn’t even go as far as glorifying visual references to South Asian culture. Instead, it piggybacks on a cultural touchstone that was already co-opting visual and musical elements of South Asian identity. I suppose you could call that cultural appropriation inception.

In the process, the problem with trends like Jai Ho summer gets lost. It’s the latest iteration of this watered-down representation, capitalizing on the catchiness of a song that has, for many, come to symbolize a certain idea of India – vibrant, chaotic, exotic.

But just like the song it draws from, the trend glosses over the complexities and nuances of the culture it claims to celebrate.

What’s more, it doesn’t even attempt to delve into the visual and cultural richness of South Asia itself. Instead, it leans on a version that’s already been filtered through a Western lens, making it easier to consume without the need to grapple with the reality behind the aesthetics.

@ssameehavelmi #jaihosummer timing is MAD like go listen to sweet caroline or smth #desi #uk ♬ original sound – Icon.artists

It’s one thing to see a culture reduced to its most marketable elements. It’s another to see those elements further diluted, recycled from a piece of media that was itself a product of cultural appropriation.

Ultimately, though, this isn’t solely an issue of cultural appropriation versus cultural appreciation.

It’s a reminder of how, for many minority communities, the ability to freely participate in and enjoy cultural moments is often marred by systemic obstacles – obstacles that those riding the wave of these trends rarely acknowledge or face themselves.

While influencers casually incorporate South Asian elements into their digital personas, the reality for many South Asians in the West is far more complicated.

For these communities, expressing their cultural identity can be fraught with challenges ranging from everyday microaggressions to more overt forms of racism and discrimination.

The inequalities they highlight are not so transient, either. If we truly want to celebrate and support minority cultures, we need to move beyond the surface-level aesthetics of trends and address the deeper issues at play.

This means advocating for policies that dismantle systemic barriers, supporting minority-owned businesses and creators, and, most importantly, listening to and amplifying the voices of those from the communities these trends borrow from.

We need to focus less on boundaries of appropriation and appreciation, we should focus more on addressing the systemic inequalities and barriers that prevent minority groups from enjoying the same milestones and trends as everyone else – not least because those trends often pick up and drop minority cultures for the benefit of the ruling class.

Accessibility