Decolonize Your Identity: From Curry Shame to Cultural Fame

Who are you when you’re not trying to fit into a colonial mold? In this spicy solo episode of Bold Brown British, Quarina dives into the messy but empowering journey of decolonizing our identities as brown people in modern British society. From owning your unapologetically desi habits (yes, bring the biryani to work!) to calling out the lingering colonial hangovers like colourism and the “good immigrant” narrative, we’re breaking it all down.

Through wit, wisdom, and a dash of masala, this episode is a reminder that your culture isn’t something to hide—it’s something to flaunt. So, grab your chai, samosas, and a notebook because it’s time to reclaim your identity with boldness and spice. 

Transcript

Okay, samosas, let me ask you this: Who are you, really? Like, if we strip away the colonial hangover, the societal pressures, and the need to fit into this neat little box labeled “acceptable brown person in Britain,” who’s left? Are you the spicy, unapologetic, fully authentic YOU? Or are you the watered-down chai version of yourself—still brown, but missing that true kick?

Oof. Yeah, I know. I went in straight away, didn’t I? But sometimes, we need to feel that punch, don’t we? Because let’s be honest: decolonizing our identity isn’t a casual weekend activity. This is deep, complex, and, frankly, messy work. But you know what? It’s work worth doing.

So today, we’re going to break it all down. Grab your samosa—or, let’s be real, your second cup of chai—and let’s dive into what it actually means to decolonize our identity as brown people in modern British society. We’ll talk about the colonial baggage we carry, how it affects our daily lives, and—most importantly—how we can shake it off like an auntie shaking off unsolicited wedding proposals for her 38-year-old son. (You know the type. “Bas, beta, not this year. Maybe next time.”)

Step 1: What Even Is Decolonization?

Let’s start with the basics because, as any good auntie will tell you, you can’t make biryani without knowing your masalas. Decolonization, at its core, is about removing the influence of colonial powers from our identities, our systems, and even our mindsets. It’s about reclaiming what’s been taken—or should I say stolen—and rewriting the narrative for ourselves.

Now, when I say “colonial influence,” I’m not just talking about British rule in India or the whole “Let’s steal your spices and your Kohinoor diamond while pretending we’re helping you” situation. I’m talking about the lingering mindset that tells us we’re somehow “less than.” That our languages, our skin tones, our food, our culture—it’s all too much, too foreign, too...brown.

Let me give you a personal example. Growing up, I remember being embarrassed about bringing daal to school for lunch. The smell of turmeric and cumin would fill the classroom, and suddenly, my very existence felt like an act of rebellion. I didn’t want to be the “weird curry kid.” I wanted to be the sandwich kid. But why? Why did I feel the need to erase the very thing that made me me?

Colonialism didn’t just take our land. It took our confidence. It made us question our worth. And that’s why decolonizing our identity is so crucial. It’s about reclaiming our power, our pride, and our unapologetic, samosa-loving selves.

Alright, let’s get into how this baggage manifests in our everyday lives. Spoiler alert: It’s not always obvious. Colonial hangovers can be sneaky—like that auntie at the wedding who’s silently judging your outfit from across the room but somehow manages to disguise it as a compliment. (“Ohhh, you’ve gone for such a modern look! How… bold.” You know what she means.)

Let’s break it down.

1. The “Good Immigrant” Narrative

Have you ever felt the pressure to prove that you’re one of the “good ones”? You know, the kind of brown person who’s polite, hardworking, and doesn’t make too much noise? This isn’t just a random personality trait some of us have decided to adopt. It’s the colonial mindset at play, my samosas.

The “good immigrant” narrative stems from the expectation that as non-white people in Britain, we must earn our place here. It whispers things like, “You can belong, but only if you tick all the right boxes.” Those boxes usually include being overqualified, overachieving, and hyper-respectful. Heaven forbid we demand equity outright or, worse, show any anger at injustices—we might be labeled “difficult” or “ungrateful.”

This isn’t just a societal thing—it’s in our heads too. How many of us feel we have to work twice as hard just to be seen as competent? How many of us hesitate to express frustration or dissatisfaction at work, worried that we’ll be labeled as too emotional, too aggressive, or too much?

The pressure to prove our worthiness comes from a deep-rooted colonial idea that we should be grateful for being here, as if our existence is a favor rather than a right. It’s a trap, samosas, because no matter how perfect we try to be, the goalposts will always move. The truth is, we don’t need to “earn” our space. We belong here just as we are—chai-stained teeth and all.

2. The “Fair and Lovely” Obsession

Now let’s talk about colourism, the ultimate colonial legacy. We can’t have this conversation without acknowledging the damage caused by the British Empire’s obsession with whiteness. During colonial rule, lighter skin was equated with power, prestige, and wealth, while darker skin was pushed to the margins—literally and figuratively.

And here we are, decades later, still grappling with this nonsense. The global obsession with fair skin isn’t just a “preference”—it’s a colonial hangover that’s seeped into every corner of our lives. You see it in Bollywood films where the fair-skinned heroine gets the hero. You see it in matrimonial ads where families openly advertise for “fair” brides (as if a woman’s melanin has anything to do with her ability to be a good life partner). And let’s not forget the billion-pound skin-lightening industry that thrives on our insecurities.

Fairness creams like “Fair and Lovely” (or as it was conveniently rebranded to “Glow & Lovely” to dodge criticism) are a stark reminder of how deeply ingrained this issue is. The message is clear: Fair skin equals beauty, success, and desirability. But here’s the thing—our melanin is a gift, not a flaw. Every shade of brown is beautiful, whether you’re chai latte or deep espresso. (Speaking of chai, is anyone else suddenly craving a second cup? Just me?)

Colourism also reinforces systemic inequality. In many communities, darker-skinned individuals face discrimination in employment, education, and even relationships. It’s an uphill battle to dismantle this mindset, but it starts with us. Let’s ditch the fairness creams, celebrate our natural tones, and remind everyone that the sun loves us enough to give us a little extra glow.

3. The Language Complex

Raise your hand if you’ve ever been embarrassed to speak your mother tongue in public. (Raises hand high—don’t leave me hanging, samosas!) You know that feeling when your parents call you on the phone, and you instinctively lower your voice as you respond in Urdu, Gujarati, or whatever your language might be? Yeah, we’ve all been there.

This is another sneaky remnant of colonial rule. The British made English the language of power, commerce, and education, sidelining our native languages as “inferior” or “uncivilized.” Over time, this led to the idea that fluency in English is the ultimate mark of intelligence, success, and modernity. Meanwhile, speaking our native tongues has been framed as something rural, outdated, or even embarrassing.

Let’s not forget how this mindset affects our relationships. How many of us were discouraged from learning or speaking our ancestral languages as kids because our parents wanted us to “fit in” or avoid being teased at school? And let’s be real, some of us were teased. (Shoutout to every classmate who thought mimicking an Indian accent was comedy gold. Spoiler alert: It wasn’t.)

But here’s the truth: Multilingualism is a superpower, not a flaw. Being able to switch between languages is a skill many people can only dream of. When you speak your mother tongue, you’re not just communicating—you’re connecting with your history, your culture, and your roots. It’s a reminder that your identity is bigger than any one country or culture.

So, samosas, let’s stop apologizing for our languages. Whether it’s speaking Tamil at the grocery store, singing in Bengali at karaoke night, or slipping into Punjabi mid-conversation because no English word quite captures the vibe, let’s own it. Let’s make our languages visible, loud, and proud. After all, the British didn’t take everything—they couldn’t take the words we carry in our hearts.

Bonus: Internalized Colonialism

I want to add a bonus layer here because colonial baggage doesn’t just exist externally—it lives in our heads too. It’s that little voice that tells you, “Don’t be too brown.” It’s the one that makes you second-guess wearing a salwar kameez to a public event or keeps you from packing your favorite homemade curry to work because you don’t want to be that person.

This internalized colonialism can be the hardest to tackle because it’s so deeply ingrained. We’ve been conditioned for generations to shrink ourselves, to blend in, to assimilate. But here’s the thing: Shrinking doesn’t make us invisible; it just makes us smaller versions of ourselves. And we deserve to be fully, unapologetically us.

So, samosas, colonial baggage isn’t just historical—it’s here, in our everyday lives, shaping how we think, act, and see ourselves. But awareness is the first step. Once we recognize these patterns, we can start the work of breaking free. And trust me, the freedom to be your full, authentic, brown self? That’s a freedom worth fighting for.

What do you think, samosas? Do any of these points resonate with you? I’m sure there’s more to add here—after all, colonial baggage is as layered as a flaky samosa crust.

Now that we’ve unpacked some of this baggage, let’s talk about how we can start decolonizing our identity. Because, trust me, it’s not enough to just recognize the problem. We’ve got to take action—bold, brown, and unapologetic action. It’s about reclaiming the bits of ourselves we’ve been told to hide, embracing what makes us beautifully unique, and kicking the colonial mindset to the curb. This is where the real transformation begins.

1. Embrace Your Culture

Whether it’s food, fashion, or festivals, stop dimming your cultural light to make others comfortable. Bring your biryani to work. Wear your saree to the party. Blast your Bollywood playlist in the car. (Okay, maybe not the entire “Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham” soundtrack, but you get the point.) Let’s stop apologizing for the things that make us, us. Our culture is vibrant, complex, and filled with richness—and it deserves to be celebrated, not hidden behind some beige, palatable version for the approval of others. Do you know how many people would kill for a taste of authentic samosas or a glimpse of a desi wedding? You’re not the “other.” You’re the main event, my samosas. So live it up.

And this doesn’t just mean the big, obvious things like food or clothes. It’s in the little things too—your slang, your mannerisms, the way you nod your head or roll your eyes in that oh-so-desi way. That’s all part of who you are. Embrace it unapologetically.

2. Learn Your History

Decolonization starts with education. Take the time to learn about your roots—not the watered-down, colonizer-approved version, but the real, raw history of your people. Because here’s the thing: when you know where you come from, it’s a lot harder for anyone to make you feel like you don’t belong.

Start by having those deep conversations with your parents, grandparents, or elders in your community. Ask them about their stories—their struggles, triumphs, and experiences that shaped your family’s journey. Then, take it further. Read books, watch documentaries, and dig into the history of your homeland that often gets swept under the rug in Western curriculums. Spoiler alert: it’s not all about colonial “benevolence” and railroads.

Knowing your history also means understanding the ways in which colonialism has shaped—and sometimes warped—our cultural practices and beliefs. It allows us to separate what’s authentic from what was imposed on us. When you’re armed with knowledge, you’re reclaiming the narrative, piece by piece.

3. Challenge the Narrative

Speak up when you see colonial mindsets at play. Whether it’s calling out colourism in your community or pushing back against stereotypes in the media, use your voice. Remember, samosas, silence is compliance. And we’re not here to comply—we’re here to disrupt.

But challenging the narrative doesn’t always have to be confrontational. It can be as simple as sharing your perspective with a friend, writing a blog post, or supporting creators and businesses that are flipping the script. Every act of resistance—no matter how big or small—chips away at the colonial mindset and makes space for a more authentic, inclusive narrative.

Remember, this isn’t about being “woke” for the sake of it. It’s about being true to yourself and your heritage. It’s about creating a world where your kids—and their kids—can grow up proud of their roots without ever feeling the need to dilute or hide who they are.

Decolonizing your identity is an ongoing process, but it’s one worth committing to. It’s not just about rejecting the colonial narrative; it’s about replacing it with your own. It’s about walking into any space with your head held high, knowing that you carry generations of resilience, strength, and beauty in your DNA. So go ahead, samosas, and take back what’s yours.

A Quick Pep Talk

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “Quarina, this all sounds great, but it’s easier said than done.” And you’re right. Decolonizing your identity isn’t easy. It’s uncomfortable, it’s emotional, and sometimes, it feels like an uphill battle. But let me tell you this: Every time you reclaim a piece of yourself, you’re not just doing it for you. You’re doing it for the generations that came before you and the ones that will come after. You’re breaking the cycle. You’re rewriting the story. And that? That’s powerful.

Final Thoughts

So, my samosas, let’s make a pact. Let’s stop carrying the colonial baggage that isn’t ours to hold. Let’s decolonize our identities, reclaim our narratives, and step into our power as bold, brown, and beautifully British individuals.

And the next time someone asks you who you are, don’t hold back. Say it loud, say it proud, and maybe even throw in a little spice for good measure.

[Cheerful tone]
That’s all for today’s episode, samosas! I hope this chat left you feeling inspired, empowered, and maybe even a little spicy. If you loved this episode, don’t forget to share it with your friends, your family, or that one cousin who’s always talking about fair skin. You know the one.

And as always, sending you love and spice! Until next time. 💛✨