"Desert Scarves," or, The Misappropriation of Culture

As my cohort the Prince of Kabob introduced in a previous post, one subject that has received much of my ire lately is the recent (though not new) trend of wearing the Palestinian keffiyeh, apparently known to Urban Outfitters (among other retailers) and clueless wearers as a "desert scarf," as a casual clothing accessory. My opinion on the matter began as interested, became conflicted, and eventually has evolved into straight-up anger. When I first began to see people wearing the keffiyeh a couple of years ago-- here and there, not very often-- I would think that it was maybe kind of cool, that maybe they were wearing it as a political statement of being down for the Palestinian cause-- but mostly, I wondered why 21st century San Francisco hipsters were interested in dressing like my deceased great-grandfather and his peers, the keffiyeh being first and foremost just a regular old traditional Arab scarf that farmers and other men used to wear (and still do) to protect their heads from the sun and dirt and sand, which has also evolved into a symbol of Palestinian nationalism and culture. I too have worn the keffiyeh, before this "desert scarf" business came about, both as a symbol of my activism and heritage, and as a means of keeping warm.

Within the past couple of years, though, more and more people-- namely those trend-focused persons whose numerous atrocities in the name of "fashion" I will refrain from detailing at the moment-- have been wearing the keffiyeh, to the point at which it has evolved into a simple, mass-produced, completely inauthentic, trendy piece of clothing that has lost its meaning. I have seen it sold, in many ridiculous colors, by Urban Outfitters (as mentioned before), at army surplus stores, and at shops in trendy neighborhoods.

My issues here are severalfold. First, it makes me laugh that people will pay eighteen dollars (!) for this mass-produced item, when the real thing (which is much more attractive, incidentally) costs much less. Second, it irritates me that people are appropriating this piece of Arab culture without having any idea at all what it represents, or what it means to wear this, or caring to find out, or even knowing its origin-- in essence, being very ignorant about what they choose to put on their bodies. I realize that some non-Arab people do wear this while participating in acts of activism or in support of the cause, and I accept this as long as they educate themselves on the keffiyeh and its meaning and do not fetishize it or the Palestinian/Arab people. If you like the scarf and want to wear it, fine-- just know what it's all about.

Perhaps most of all, it angers me that Arab culture is being commodified and sold by a capitalist and colonialist nation which dares to accuse people of terrorism while unapologetically committing horrible acts of terrorism itself (see previous post for an example). Essentially the commodification of the keffiyeh is an act to discredit the Palestinian cause, making it something to take lightly via the mainstream misappropriation of one of its most recognizable images. That a nation's retailers would promote the production and sale of this imitation item while simultaneously condemning those who have worn it and brought it into the public view as an item of both culture and the cause (Leila Khaled, Arafat, the Palestinian people and most Arabs) is outrageous and hypocritical, but, sadly, not surprising. Why not make a few bucks off the people who we work hard to keep ignorant (Americans) and who we work hard to disenfranchise and destroy (Palestinians, Iraqis, etc...)? It is, after all, the American way!

Yes, I do think it carries much different meaning when an Arab-American wears the scarf as opposed to other types of American. I will bet you that 99 percent of the time, when an Arab wears this scarf, this person will know exactly what it means to do so, whether culturally or as a sign of solidarity, or both. I know that this is not the case with most of those who wear the sweatshop-made, mass-produced imitations in such fun colors as pink and yellow. If somebody likes the appearance of the keffiyeh and chooses to wear it, they are free to do so, but in my opinion should at least be aware of the connotations, and if they do not agree with them, or do not care either way, should not wear the keffiyeh. It troubles me to have my heritage and my people's struggles commodified and trivialized in such a way, and that is exactly what is being done, whether the wearer is aware of it or not.

And for the record, it's not called a freaking "desert scarf."