First published in ColorLines magazine, summer 2005. Reprinted on Sawnet by permission of ColorLines and the author.

Discovering a dance that is South Asian and yet “cool” becomes a powerful source of cultural validation and pride.

The second generation struggles with notions of cultural and ethnic purity that can be both sexist and regionalist.

Growing up in the mostly white suburb of Walnut Creek, California, Sonia Dass never imagined that she could become a bhangra dance performer. “I was very shy growing up,” she says. “I could never have pictured myself on stage dancing in front of all these people.” Neither did she feel much connection to her South Asian cultural background. Sonia’s father is from a small village in Punjab, India, and her mother grew up in a Punjabi diasporic community in the Fiji Islands. Dancing was somewhat stigmatized in Sonia’s family, with her mother not allowed to dance in her youth and Sonia herself discouraged from dancing except with close family. When she joined an all-female bhangra team as a student at University of California-Davis, it gave her cultural pride and confidence. Performing “was such a rush,” she says. “It brought me into my culture.”

Sonia is like many young women of South Asian origin who are reconnecting with their culture through bhangra. Second-generation South Asian American women are increasingly turning to bhangra as a way of defining cultural identity, at a time when the mainstream is also discovering the dance. Many of the young women who have the strongest connection to bhangra grew up in white neighborhoods and schools, with few South Asian peers. Popular films like Monsoon Wedding and Bend it Like Beckham, as well as the increased presence of bhangra in the club scene, have raised awareness of the dance and the music. The evolution of bhangra—a male folk dance traditionally not for women at all—from folk dance to popular club music to aerobic workout reveals the creative tension between nostalgia and change.

From the Fields to London Bhangra began as a harvest celebration dance for farmers in the Punjab, a region that is now divided into India and Pakistan. “Bhang” means hemp, and the dance movements imitate fieldwork—plowing, sowing and harvesting. Bhangra is joyful, the most energetic of the traditional Indian dances. The rhythmic beats of a drum called a dhol accompany a dance with expansive movements. The dance’s associations with workers and farming give bhangra a down-to-earth feel, different from other classical Indian dances. Its female counterpart is ghidda, which has softer movements and involves more storytelling.

In the 1970s and ‘80s, bhangra became part of the modern club scene, when the South Asian diasporic community made the United Kingdom the birthplace of bhangra remix music. Bhangra, mixed with house, hiphop, reggae and Western synthesizers and percussion, soon became an integral part of the club scene in London as did prominent artists like Panjabi MC, Bally Sagoo, Apache Indian and Saqi. New bhangra artists constantly appear—a recent popular group is Tigerstyle from Scotland. Bhangra remix music migrated to the U.S. in the ‘90s, first popularized in New York by D.J. Rekha’s “Basement Bhangra” and now popular all over the United States. North America has produced its own bhangra artists, including the Canadian Jazzy B. Bhangra dancers lift their arms in the air and shrug their shoulders, moving in time to the beat. The music also often has “circle dancing,” where dancers perform in a circle for the surrounding crowd. At these parties, young women tend to wear the same clothing that youth in the U.S. usually wear to clubs, though some add a kurta, dupatta or other item of traditional clothing.

Bhangra has become widespread as the second-generation South Asian American community is coming of age and becoming visible. While South Asians have been in the U.S. since the early twentieth century, the Immigration Act of 1965 opened the way to a new wave of South Asian immigrants by ending 80 years of bans on immigration from Asia. Bhangra is part of an important subculture for these second-generation South Asians, a source of ethnic pride, community and the sheer pleasure of an infectious and accessible dance. While dancing well might take a certain level of skill and experience, anyone can enter a party for the first time and participate, putting their arms up and dancing to the beat.

Cultural Cool

Tanuja Desai Hidier’s Born Confused, which the American Library Association and New York Public Library both listed as a best book for teenagers, demonstrates the importance of bhangra to South Asian women in the U.S. In the novel, 17-year-old Dimple Lala at first rejects her cultural background, taking her blond best friend Gwyn as her role model. Dimple undergoes a transformation when she discovers the New York City bhangra club scene, finding friends and mentors in the South Asian community.

Like her character, Desai Hidier grew up in a mostly white area and the New York City dance scene helped her redefine her cultural identity. “The first time I walked into Basement Bhangra—pure euphoria and a very distinct sense of coming home,” says Hidier. “To hear the music I’d only heard in the context of family weddings, poojas, [and] trips to India but reinvigorated—reinvented, really.” She adds: “Bhangra clubbing is a way to be your own person—to be wild and free with pure clubber style but at the same time be part of your family and cultural history, honor your roots—that no other club music can offer in that way.”

The club parties of D.J. Rekha inspired the dance scenes in Born Confused. D.J. Rekha, whose name is Rekha Malhotra, is credited with first popularizing bhangra in the U.S with her Basement Bhangra parties, which she started eight years ago at the club S.O.B’s. D.J. Rekha, whose parents emigrated from New Delhi, was born in London and grew up on Long Island. Falling in love with bhangra when she first heard the music, she started deejaying in the ‘90s in New York with her male cousins. She took a backseat at first, but when the men went back to India she took over and became popular in the male-dominated profession. D.J. Rekha gives lectures on deejaying and bhangra at universities and is also on the board of the organization Breakthrough, which promotes human rights through media and pop culture.

The second generation connects to bhangra as “the signifier for being South Asian and cool”, D.J. Rekha says. “Cool” not only to the second-generation South Asian subculture, but to the mainstream as well. Artists such as Jay-Z and Missy Elliot have sampled bhangra beats. The “coolness” factor matters to a generation that has grown up with little representation of South Asian Americans in popular culture—the most visible South Asian in the media being Apu on The Simpsons. Discovering a dance that is South Asian and yet “cool” becomes a powerful source of cultural validation and pride.

The second generation has embraced bhangra not only through the club scene but also through teaching programs for children, college dance programs and activism, as seen in organizations such as Bhangra for Unity and Bhangra Against Bush (the latter organized by D.J. Rekha). Many colleges and universities have bhangra teams, which recently began competing in intercollegiate competitions such as Bhangra Blowout in Washington, D.C. and Dhol di Awaaz in San Francisco. The teams, which are almost entirely composed of men and women of South Asian origin, can be all-female, all-male, or coed.

Women have created the bhangra fitness workout, another popular innovation. Sarina Jain, who seeks to be known as the “Indian Jane Fonda”, developed the Masala Bhangra Workout. Jain, whose family is from Jaipur, India, was born and raised in Orange County, California. She combined her passions for bhangra and fitness by creating a cardiovascular workout based on moves she adapted from bhangra parties. She teaches at health clubs and has created a series of videos. While her classes are more popular with non-South Asians, many young South Asian women cite her videos as helping them to learn the dance.

The Lure of Tradition

Despite the popularity of bhangra with young women, bhangra’s roots as a traditionally male dance affect women’s experience of the dance. Jain suggests that women are drawn to the dance because the traditionally male movements make women feel strong. Bhangra is “very much a man’s dance,” she says. “I love watching Punjabi boys dance. I get a high off their strength. It’s so manly. I absolutely love it. I want to copy it.”

Young women often express conflicted emotions about bhangra and gender. Some feel that women who engage in it need to respect the dance’s masculine roots, while others want to separate it from gender. Sonia Dass, who was trained on bhangra teams, says, “I do get offended when girls go out there and dance like men...I think there’s a form for women and a form for men, certain styles that women have and that men have.”

Radha Makker, a sophomore at U.C. Berkeley who is also the campus bhangra coordinator, says of the dance: “Bhangra is empowering...you use your whole body. You can feel it.” However, she feels that men look better dancing: “Bhangra is more of a guy thing...guys look better, seems more effortless and smooth…bhangra is not a very feminine dance...the more you look like a guy, the more you move like a guy, the better you are.”

Bhangra’s traditionally “male” movements, however, its energy and focus on expansive rather than precise movements, seem to be part of the dance’s appeal for women. Shyamala Moorty, who was on the UCLA’s bhangra team and now teaches the dance to children in schools all over California, contrasts bhangra and ghidda: “Bhangra feels more empowering to me than ghidda because it is stronger. I can stand with my feet wider. I can make powerful movements and not be relegated to doing pretty clapping and storytelling, which are nice, too, but don't feel as full of energy. And lastly, because it was a male form, I don't need to shake my hips or overemphasize my femininity if I don't want to.”