dressing for the role

One of the things I’ve learned is that a lot of being a grownup is simply satisfying a certain role in a given moment. It’s not necessarily about you as an individual; the people around you just need you to show up and be satisfactory in that role. For example, I often play the role of professor when meeting prospective students or parents or addressing the board of trustees—everyone involved just wants me to be a professor, of the type I can convincingly deliver, so I try to oblige. Indeed, they generally already expect that I’m going to be a great professor—which has nothing to do with me, but rather with their hopes and dreams for their student or the institution they help steer.

Now I have a new role: Fulbright Scholar. Everyone here at St Teresa’s has worked so hard to get a Fulbright Scholar assigned to the college. They started an international center two years ago, began attending conferences and networking with international agencies, made a connection with USIEF (the United States India Educational Foundation, which administers Fulbright in India) and made a good impression on the officers there, and then, when the chance came that an unaffiliated scholar was looking for a placement (me), the USIEF recommended them. They sealed the deal with an excellent Skype interview for which they were so well prepared with ways for the Scholar to interact with the college community, get involved, and be supported. They are energetic, super-competent, and excited for the future, and the Fulbright Scholar is part of their diversifying portfolio of international conferences and events.

Needless to say, in my role as their Fulbright Scholar, I do not want to let them down! I want to be who/what they need me to be. The trick is that I don’t really understand this role yet. Mainly right now I’m trying to be cheerful, non-difficult, and agreeable to most anything they suggest.

And this role has a dress code. The teachers at St Teresa’s all wear saris every day—“very formal,” they told me, because of the Carmelite nuns who direct the school. I asked very pointedly what I should wear. Influenced by my students, I was concerned about cultural appropriation on the one hand and fitting in respectfully on the other. (You know I was hoping she would say the sari was required for me, too.) “You might feel more comfortable in a kurta and leggings,” they told me politely, “but don’t worry about the dupatta.” Since I felt I got permission from my team to wear Indian dress, I went right out the first evening and bought myself a matching set. When I turned up for the Christmas program in my new outfit, my new friends went bananas. They loved that I had made the effort, I think, and one immediately pulled out her wallet and bestowed on me one of the bindis she keeps stuck to her driver’s license. The funny thing was, twice that afternoon, two different people overlooked me in my Indian dress. “Where is she?” both the chief sister and the principal asked, looking around for me. Just wearing that outfit caused me to be much less visible. The chief sister laughed when she saw me standing right next to her. “You seem very Indian anyway,” she said, “I told them that yesterday after we met. Very Indian, except for your color. The husband and the children, no—they are very American. But you, very Indian.”

Next step: sari shopping. It will take a little while to build up to that. I really want to talk to my Indian students about the issue of cultural appropriation—it is such a hot issue for my American students. Is it respectful to wear Indian dress as a visitor, or NOT to wear it? It seems my American students would have one answer, and my Indian students and colleagues, another.