“So does that mean when we celebrate Christmas and Halloween it’s also cultural appropriation?” asked one WeChat user, Larissa.

And there’s a bit about the origins of the dress:

. . . In its original form, the dress was worn in a baggy style, mostly by upper-class women during the Qing dynasty, which ruled China for more than 250 years, until 1912. It was only in the 1920s and ’30s, when Western influence began seeping into China, that the qipao was reinvented to become the seductive, body-hugging dress that many think of today. For many cinephiles, it has become inextricably associated with Maggie Cheung, the actress who wore a stunning array of cheongsams in Wong Kar-wai’s 2000 film “In the Mood for Love.” These days, it is rare to see Chinese women wearing qipaos in the street. Western “fast fashion” has taken over, though the qipao has made something of a comeback among some official figures, like the country’s first lady, Peng Liyuan. “To Chinese, it’s not sacred and it’s not that meaningful,” said Hung Huang, a Beijing-based writer and fashion blogger, in an interview. “Nowadays, if you see a woman wearing a qipao, she’s probably a waitress in a restaurant or a bride.”

Now, what does it mean that Chinese in America, or Americans of Chinese ancestry, are so up in arms about cultural appropriation when the nation in which that culture was prevalent—China—can’t be bothered with this “cultural appropriation” nonsense? Maybe the Chinese, who of course have culturally appropriated the West big time, realize the stupidity of criticizing someone for wearing a Chinese dress. Or—and I think this is likely too—American Chinese are engaging in “recreational outrage.” Why? Perhaps because they want to be special, maintaining their identity and uniqueness, and Daum is spoiling that. This “I’m special because I’m different” is of course the basis of identity politics, enabling you to claim a share of public attention. Well, that is my theory, which is mine.

Over at CNN, Jeff Yang can’t manage to get upset about the dress issue, even though he says that “Cultural appropriation is a real and serious concern that’s deeply intertwined with issues like colonialism, labor theft, racial privilege and ethnic stereotyping. Dismissal of the phenomenon is often simply a knee-jerk reaction by those seeking to assail what they see as ‘political correctness.'” (No, Mr. Yang, dismissal of the phenomenon is most often because the accusers are ridiculously petty.) Click on the screenshot:

Yang tries to hold down both ends, criticizing Daum as not having “fully reflected on the way that wearing outfits or hairstyles associated with other cultures is itself an expression of privilege.” Give me a break! Nevertheless, he does take issue with the nastiness heaped on Daum by her critics.

. . . those who have chosen to conduct a social-media pile-on of Daum rather than engage her in civil conversation forget that she’s a teenager — one whose interest in other cultures could easily be turned into respect, mutual exchange and positive engagement. (Though the cultural context of Asians who live in a majority-Asian societies, versus Asian Americans who live as minorities in the US, is quite different, it’s worth noting that Chinese in China have largely stepped up to defend Daum’s wearing of the dress as a valid homage and celebration.) Yes, cultural appropriation is something we need to discuss. But any “discussion” that involves thousands of strangers attacking a teen from the safety of distance and anonymity looks a lot like cyberbullying. What’s more, the incessant flame wars around Daum have prompted those on the extreme right to use her as a symbol to advance their agenda of cultural erasure. I’ll take what I can get. Yang has to get in the few obligatory licks against Daum and the Right, but what Daum experienced isn’t just looking like cyberbullying; it is cyberbullying. Finally, Eugene Volokh, a semi-conservative of a libertarian bent, had some choice and stinging words in a 2014 Washington Post column for those who decry cultural appropriation when it’s not meant as mockery. Volokh was properly exercised by an article in Salon by Randa Jarrar called “Why I can’t stand white belly dancers” (she also wrote a sequel, “Why I still can’t stand white belly dancers“). You don’t even have to read the Salon pieces to know what they say. Click on the screenshot to read Volokh’s response; the title tells the tale!

Below is some choice ranting by Volokh. The last paragraph, which Greg Mayer calls “the money quote”, is superb, and I wish I’d written it.