Every culture has some traditions and holidays with some very serious, deep-rooted sexist crap. Humans can take the simplest of celebrations and turn them into ways of keeping the patriarchy alive.
What I’m struggling with, especially after having a child, is which of these Indian traditions to keep, reclaim, or completely throw away as we build our family. I’ve already rejected Karva Chauth, even though Satish offers to fast, and has fasted in previous years.
So when talks of Kabir’s first Lohri started, I immediately got uncomfortable. For those of you who don’t know, Lohri is a folk festival in Northern India. Similar to other festivals in regions in India (and around the world), it’s said to be a celebration to mark the end of winter solstice. Families and villages gather together after planting the season’s crop, praying for a prosperous harvest.
There’s even a cute tradition like Halloween, where kids go door to door asking for Indian candies and sweets (peanut brittle, sesame snacks, roasted nuts, popcorn, etc.,). As the folk songs suggest, they call that getting “Lohri”.
Those families who have more to celebrate that year (newly weds, newborns) usually give out more Lohri treats or even throw parties. The parties have become more extravagant these days, especially in the Punjabi diaspora.
Now you’re wondering where the sexism comes in. Well, traditionally a big Lohri celebration was held for a newborn son, not a daughter. Though the times have started to change and more people celebrate equally for girls and boys, and there’s better awareness through orgs like the Pink Ladoo Project who work to shed more light on the inequality girls (and families with girls) still face in the Punjabi community - a big Lohri event still made me nervous…
Were we perpetuating the negative parts of this holiday? If Kabir was a girl I know I would’ve made it a point and gone above and beyond to ensure Lohri was celebrated for a girl. That made me think, if I would have gone big with an Arati and Satish style party (lol #aratiandsatish) for a girl, why would I deny Kabir a part of his culture? More importantly, since Kabir is a baby and won’t really remember the party, why would we deny both sets of grandparents this opportunity to celebrate Kabir’s Lohri?
After talking to my dad, one of the more progressive Indian dads you’ll meet, I learned to my disbelief that Lohri meant so much to him (moral: talk to your parents). My dad is the youngest of seven children. Shortly before he was born, his father left the family to go follow a religious leader. That’s a lot of generational trauma I won’t unpack in this post. Even though it was a difficult time for his family, he said they made it a point to celebrate his first Lohri. His family, especially his mom’s side, didn’t want anyone to feel like they weren’t excited for this new child. Growing up whenever he felt sad, he was told stories of all the amazing sweets that were given out to celebrate his birth and his first Lohri. A story he still tells today.
How could I not celebrate Lohri after hearing this? 😭
Similar to my dad’s family, I decided to reclaim Lohri in our way. Alongside planning an intimate party, I researched organizations that were supporting South Asian women in need. After a friend suggested Laadliyan, a non-profit organization in Brampton, we decided to make a donation to them from Kabir's shagan (gifts Kabir received). We made it a point to call out the deep rooted inequality in Lohri's history in our welcoming remarks, and ensured everyone knew which local organizations and women's shelters they could look into if they wished to support on their own.
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