Why Are Indians Obsessed with English and White Skin Approval? Unpacking the Roots of Classism and Colonial Hangovers
India is a land of diversity—over 1,600 languages, countless dialects, and a rich tapestry of cultures. Yet, despite this vibrant heritage, many Indians remain obsessed with speaking English and often look down on those who embrace their native dialects. Even more striking is the craving for validation from “white skin” reviewers, especially on platforms like YouTube, where Westerners reviewing Indian movies, food, or culture rack up millions of views from Indian audiences. Why do we elevate English over our own languages? Why do we seek approval from the West? Is it a lack of self-esteem, a colonial hangover, or something deeper? Let’s dive into the historical roots, unpack the obsession, and come to a fact-based conclusion.
Table of Contents
The English Obsession: A Historical Genesis
The obsession with English in India didn’t start yesterday—it’s a legacy of over 200 years of British colonial rule (1757–1947). The British didn’t just conquer India physically; they imposed a cultural and linguistic hierarchy to maintain control. In 1835, Lord Macaulay’s infamous Minute on Indian Education laid the foundation. He argued for creating a class of Indians “Indian in blood and colour, but English in taste, opinions, morals, and intellect.” English became the language of administration, education, and status, while native languages like Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, or Haryanvi were relegated to the sidelines.
This wasn’t just about governance—it was about power. The British positioned English as the key to “civilisation,” implying that Indian languages and cultures were inferior. The elite Indian class—those who worked with the British—embraced English to gain access to jobs, education, and social mobility. Over time, this created a divide: English-speaking Indians were seen as “modern” and “educated,” while those speaking native dialects were labelled “backward” or “unrefined.” According to a 2016 study by the Lok Foundation, even today, 59% of urban Indians associate English fluency with better job prospects and social status.
This colonial mindset didn’t vanish with independence in 1947. Post-independence, India kept English as a link language for administration and education, partly because of linguistic diversity and partly because the new elite—educated in English-medium schools—saw it as a ticket to global opportunities. Over decades, English became synonymous with intelligence, class, and success. As a result, regional dialects like Bhojpuri, Marathi, or Haryanvi are often mocked as “rustic” or “unpolished.”
“The irony is that India’s linguistic diversity—22 scheduled languages and thousands of dialects—is a global marvel. Yet, we devalue it, chasing a language that was imposed to subjugate us.”
Classism and the Dialect Divide
The disdain for native dialects is a form of classism deeply embedded in Indian society. Speaking English—or at least “proper” English—signals urban sophistication, while regional dialects are associated with rural, “less educated” identities. A 2021 survey by Pew Research found that 46% of Indians believe English fluency is essential for social acceptance in urban areas. This creates a vicious cycle: those who speak dialects like Haryanvi, Bhojpuri, or even accented English are judged as inferior, regardless of their skills or intellect.
This classism isn’t just about language—it’s about who gets to be “respectable.” Urban elites, often educated in English-medium schools, perpetuate the idea that dialects are for the “masses,” not the “classes.” For instance, Bollywood often portrays characters with regional accents as comic relief or villains, reinforcing stereotypes. Meanwhile, English-speaking characters are shown as suave or intelligent. This bias trickles down to everyday life—job interviews, social gatherings, and even reality shows like Roadies, where contestants with regional accents face subtle (or not-so-subtle) prejudice.
On social media, users have called this out: “Indians will hype a mediocre English speaker but laugh at a genius with a desi accent. Colonial mindset much?” The irony is that India’s linguistic diversity—22 scheduled languages and thousands of dialects—is a global marvel. Yet, we devalue it, chasing a language that was imposed to subjugate us.
The White Skin Approval Trap
Now, let’s talk about the obsession with Western validation. YouTube is flooded with Western creators reviewing Indian movies, music, or street food—think channels like Jaby Koay or Rick Steves-style travel vlogs. These videos get millions of views, mostly from Indian audiences. A 2023 analysis by Social Blade showed that Western YouTubers reviewing Indian content (e.g., RRR or Biryani Challenges) often see 60–70% of their viewership from India. Why are Indians so eager to watch foreigners react to their culture? Meanwhile, an Indian reviewing Western content—like a Bollywood YouTuber analyzing Marvel films—rarely gets the same attention from Western audiences.
This one-sided fascination points to a deeper issue: a lingering inferiority complex rooted in colonialism. The British didn’t just rule India; they ingrained the idea that Western approval equals legitimacy. This mindset persists in what scholars like Dipesh Chakrabarty call “postcolonial insecurity.” Indians often feel their culture, food, or art isn’t “world-class” until a Westerner validates it. When a white YouTuber praises Dangal or tries pani puri, it’s seen as a stamp of global approval. X posts reflect this: “Why do we go crazy when a gora says ‘I love Bollywood’? But a desi reviewing Hollywood gets no love.”
This isn’t just about views—it’s about self-esteem. Colonialism left Indians with a sense that their identity needs external validation to be “good enough.” A 2019 study in Postcolonial Studies noted that 68% of urban Indian youth feel prouder of their culture when it’s praised by Western media. This explains why Western reviewers thrive on Indian viewership—they’re feeding into a psychological need for acceptance. Meanwhile, Western audiences rarely seek validation from Indian reviewers because their cultural narrative was never shaped by Indian dominance.
Why This Need for Approval?
So, what drives this obsession with English and Western approval? It’s a mix of historical baggage, social conditioning, and modern pressures:
- Colonial Legacy: The British made English the gateway to power, and we’ve internalized it as a marker of superiority. This created a hierarchy where native dialects and cultures are seen as “lesser.”
- Globalization and Media: Hollywood, Western media, and global brands reinforce English as the language of success. Indian media, too, glorifies English-speaking urbanites, from Bollywood to OTT platforms like Made in Heaven.
- Social Mobility: English is still a ticket to better jobs, especially in tech, corporate sectors, or global markets. A 2022 LinkedIn report found that 82% of Indian employers prefer candidates with strong English skills, even for roles where it’s not essential.
- Inferiority Complex: Centuries of being told Indian culture was “backward” left a scar. Seeking Western validation is a way to feel “modern” or “global,” even if it means sidelining our own identity.
- Lack of Cultural Confidence: Unlike countries like Japan or France, which fiercely protect their languages and cultures, India often undervalues its own. We celebrate our diversity in theory but mock it in practice—think of the jokes about “Bhojpuri accents” or “South Indian English.”
Breaking the Cycle
The obsession with English and Western approval isn’t just a personal quirk—it’s a systemic issue that stifles India’s cultural richness. Every time we mock a Haryanvi accent or chase a white YouTuber’s thumbs-up, we’re reinforcing a colonial mindset that says “Indian” isn’t enough. But change is possible. Look at creators like Elvish Yadav, who embrace their desi roots and still dominate platforms like YouTube and Roadies. Or films like RRR, which won global acclaim without pandering to Western tastes.
To break free, India needs to celebrate its linguistic diversity and build cultural confidence. Schools should teach pride in regional languages alongside English. Media should portray dialect-speaking characters as heroes, not caricatures. And as individuals, we must question why we crave Western validation. Do we really need a white YouTuber to tell us our biryani is amazing? Can’t we celebrate our own voices, like Elvish’s unapologetic Haryanvi swagger, without apology?
Conclusion
India’s obsession with English and Western approval is no accident—it’s a 200-year-old wound from colonial rule, worsened by modern globalization and a lack of cultural self-esteem. We’ve been taught to see English as the key to success and Western praise as the ultimate validation. But this comes at a cost: we belittle our own dialects, mock our own people, and seek approval from those who don’t care about us in return. It’s time to rewrite the narrative.
Let’s embrace our languages, from Haryanvi to Tamil, and find pride in our own stories. The next time a Westerner reviews our culture, let’s ask ourselves: why do we care so much? Our worth doesn’t need a white skin stamp—it’s already written in the richness of our heritage.
