The question itself feels like a minefield. Ask it in the wrong room and you’ll be accused of centering whiteness, of claiming victimhood, of not understanding power dynamics. But it’s a question that keeps coming up, especially for people from white ethnic minorities who watch their cultural symbols get commodified, their traditions turned into trends, their heritage reduced to aesthetics.
So let’s talk about it honestly, without deflection and without false equivalencies.
What Cultural Appropriation Actually Means
Cultural appropriation isn’t just borrowing or sharing. It’s taking elements of a marginalized culture—especially those with deep spiritual, historical, or community significance—and using them in ways that strip away their meaning, often for profit or clout, while the originating community continues to face discrimination for those same practices.
The harm comes from the power differential. When dominant groups cherry-pick the “cool” parts of marginalized cultures while ignoring or even contributing to the oppression of those communities, that’s appropriation. When Native American headdresses become festival fashion while actual Native people fight for sovereignty and face ongoing violence, that’s appropriation. When Black hairstyles are called “edgy” on white models but “unprofessional” on Black employees, that’s appropriation.
The key words there: dominant groups, power differential, ongoing oppression.
So Where Do White Ethnic Minorities Fit?
This is where it gets complicated, because “white” encompasses people with vastly different relationships to power. Someone whose family has been in America for generations, whose name is pronounceable, who moves through the world with full acceptance—that person occupies a different position than someone from a white ethnic minority who still faces marginalization.
Consider Greek Americans who watch their Evil Eye symbols become Instagram-worthy jewelry divorced from spiritual meaning. Or Italian Americans who see their grandmothers’ recipes turned into commodity “authentic Italian” products sold by corporations. Or Irish Americans who watch St. Patrick’s Day become an excuse for drunk stereotypes that bear no resemblance to actual Irish culture.
Is that appropriation? Not in the same way that, say, some people wearing Native regalia is appropriation. Because Greek Americans, Italian Americans, and Irish Americans—while they may have faced discrimination historically—now largely benefit from being categorized as white in America’s racial hierarchy.
But is it cultural disrespect? Absolutely. Is it commodification? Yes. Is it erasure of meaning and context? Without question.
The MENA Exception
Middle Eastern and North African communities occupy a particularly complicated space. Many MENA people are classified as white on census forms and may have light skin, but they absolutely don’t hold the same structural power as Anglo-Americans. Arab Americans, Persian Americans, Armenian Americans—these communities face ongoing discrimination, surveillance, and violence.
When white Americans adopt Arabic calligraphy as aesthetic decor, wear keffiyehs as fashion, or get henna without understanding its cultural significance, that does start to approach appropriation in the traditional sense. The power dynamic is there: MENA communities face Islamophobia and anti-Arab discrimination while their cultural elements get commodified.
The same applies to Jewish cultural symbols. When non-Jewish people wear Kabbalah bracelets as trendy accessories or use Hebrew letters for aesthetic effect without understanding their meaning, that’s taking from a community that still experiences anti-Semitism and violence.
What About European Folk Traditions?
Here’s where opinions diverge sharply. Some people argue that because European cultures became dominant through colonialism, their folk traditions are fair game for anyone to use. Others argue that specific regional European cultures—especially those that were historically marginalized within Europe—deserve the same protection as other indigenous practices.
Consider Celtic traditions. Yes, Celtic peoples eventually became part of whiteness in America. But Celtic cultures also faced cultural genocide, language suppression, and centuries of colonization by other European powers. When Norse paganism gets reduced to Viking Halloween costumes or Celtic knots become mass-produced jewelry with no cultural context, is that just cultural exchange or is it disrespectful commodification?
The answer probably depends on who’s doing it and why. A descendant of Irish immigrants researching and practicing Celtic traditions isn’t appropriating their own heritage. An American corporation slapping Celtic designs on products made in sweatshops to sell at Hot Topic? That’s exploitation, even if it doesn’t carry the same weight as appropriating from currently oppressed groups.
Power Matters More Than Pain
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: cultural appropriation is fundamentally about power, not just about feelings or heritage. The reason appropriation from Black culture, Indigenous cultures, Asian cultures hits differently than borrowing from Italian culture is because those communities still face systemic oppression in ways that Italian Americans largely don’t.
That doesn’t mean disrespecting Italian culture is fine. It just means it’s not the same thing, and we shouldn’t pretend it is. Words matter. When we use “appropriation” to describe all forms of cultural disrespect, we dilute its meaning and make it harder to address the specific harms it names.
Maybe what white ethnic minorities experience is better described as cultural commodification, ethnic erasure, or heritage exploitation. Those are real problems. They’re worth addressing. But they’re not identical to cultural appropriation as experienced by communities that face ongoing systemic marginalization.
What Actually Deserves Protection
Regardless of terminology, some things deserve protection and respect regardless of who they come from. Sacred practices. Religious symbols. Items of deep cultural significance. Traditional knowledge that took generations to develop.
If you’re taking something sacred and treating it as a costume or commodity, that’s wrong. Period. It doesn’t matter if it comes from a Lakota tribe or a rural Greek village. Disrespect is disrespect.
The question isn’t whether white ethnic groups deserve to have their cultures respected—of course they do. The question is whether we should use the language of appropriation, which has specific meaning tied to power and oppression, to describe that disrespect.
Moving Forward
So can some people experience cultural appropriation? The nuanced answer is: some some people, in some contexts, experience something that resembles appropriation, especially MENA and Jewish communities who face ongoing discrimination. Most white ethnic minorities experience cultural disrespect and commodification, which are real problems but function differently than appropriation of cultures from currently marginalized groups.
What matters more than the terminology is the commitment: respect cultures that aren’t yours. Learn the context and meaning. Don’t reduce sacred practices to aesthetics. Don’t profit from others’ heritage while contributing to their oppression. And when communities say “this isn’t for you,” listen.
That applies whether the culture in question is Navajo or Norwegian, Nigerian or Neapolitan. Respect isn’t conditional on oppression status. But our understanding of harm should be proportional to power dynamics.
Your Italian grandmother’s recipe deserves respect. It’s not appropriation when someone outside the culture makes it—it’s sharing. But if a corporation steals that recipe, claims it as their own, and profits while erasing its origins? That’s exploitation. And you have every right to be angry about it.
Just don’t call it the same thing as what happens when some people wear Native headdresses. Because it isn’t. And pretending it is doesn’t protect your culture—it just makes it harder to protect cultures that face ongoing systemic harm.
