## Step 1 - Speaking

Think about your morning routine – from the time you wake up to the time you leave the house. How many objects/foods do you interact with are not from your home country?
Make a list of the items and their origins.
E.g.
- pyjamas – bought in Indonesia
- bread – Turkey
- coffee – Brazil

Compare your list with your partner. How many different countries/origins have you got?
Now read the first paragraph from this article on cultural appropriation.
Make a list of the items and their origins. How does the authors list compare to yours?

At my house, getting dressed is a daily act of cultural appropriation, and I’m not the least bit sorry about it. I step out of the shower in the morning and pull on a vintage cotton kimono. After moisturizing my face, I smear Lucas Papaw ointment — a tip from an Australian makeup artist — onto my lips before I make coffee with a Bialetti stovetop espresso maker a girlfriend brought back from Italy. Depending on the weather, I may pull on an embroidered floral blouse I bought at a roadside shop in Mexico or a stripey marinière-style shirt — originally inspired by the French, but mine from the surplus store was a standard-issue Russian telnyashka — or my favorite purple pajama pants, a souvenir from a friend’s trip to India. I may wear Spanish straw-soled espadrilles (though I’m not from Spain) or Bahian leather sandals (I’m not Brazilian either) and top it off with a favorite piece of jewelry, perhaps a Navajo turquoise ring (also not my heritage). As I dress in the morning, I deeply appreciate the craftsmanship and design behind these items, as well as the adventures and people they recall. And while I hope I don’t offend anyone, I find the alternative — the idea that I ought to stay in the cultural lane I was born into — outrageous. No matter how much I love cable-knit sweaters and Gruyere cheese, I don’t want to live in a world where the only cultural inspiration I’m entitled to comes from my roots in Ireland, Switzerland, and Eastern Europe.