Even the most stubborn people can change their minds. I’m a living example.
This year, I had been growing increasingly frustrated with, desensitized to and tired of the South Asian American community and yuppies I’ve met in Washington, DC, where I’ve lived for the past 6 years. Years of feeling like I was being excluded, not taken seriously, looked over and didn’t belong led me down a path of cynicism and full-throated vocal opposition to these people and their ilk.
In conversations with friends lately, I had been going on about how I’m “so over DC” and “done with brown people” after witnessing constant disingenuousness, performative kindness, tribalism, adherence to arbitrary structures of power within social groups, judgment, navel gazing, ignorance, lack of conviction, lack of accountability, lack of distinct identity, toxic competitiveness, comparison culture, and social browbeating — to name a few.
Earlier this year, I rolled out Krishna Park’s Spring 2026 capsule collection in DC. At 3 successive events, I saw countless brown people give me weird/judgmental looks and stares, pretend to engage with me or be interested and then walking away and getting in my business just to get in my business.
This is not to discount the love from friends and community I have found and built in Washington, DC. I could not have executed what I have with the brand so far without oodles of help, encouragement and support. If you are a DC friend reading this, know that I love you, I miss you and I’m not talking about you.
It was the intangible “Indian stares,” the condescension, and the lack of support/enthusiasm that really irked me. I found that people of every other ethnicity were really on board and saw my vision, but my “own people” couldn’t conceptualize something that was outside of their box. The energy I had really hoped to receive from people “like me” ended up manifesting as quite the opposite. This really threw me off and disheartened me from continuing my creative journey for a couple months.
I always try to see the humanity and positivity in others, from random people on the street to my closest friends/family and everyone in between. However, interactions I’ve had with other people in this city and with those who share my background had dimmed that light significantly in terms of wanting to get to know new people or give brown people a chance. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want my life to look like in this new chapter in New York, and I had journaled the other day that I want to make a concerted effort to not make as many brown friends here because of these disappointments.
Yet beyond my wildest doubts, that changed like a flip of a switch the second I went to the DOST TAKEOVER in NYC the other night. A few friends who had invited me to the event and to pregame suggested to keep an open mind going into it, telling me that my experiences, though repeated time after time and thus enshrined in my disdain, weren’t ubiquitous. That there are people out there who want to win and want to see me win too. That in the right space, with the right attitude and the right social contract, anything is possible.
I agreed to give it a shot based on the great people I know these friends to be, and the resulting experience genuinely rewired my brain. Before we even arrived at Bushwick’s sprawling Elsewhere venue, I had the chance to meet some of the DJs and their friends and partners at DJ Ing’s apartment. I came in worried that I wouldn’t be accepted, just like most other times that I’ve been in these spaces in DC.
But the ample houseplants filling the space, their cats and the art sprawled across the walls felt so familiar even though I had never been here before. It gave me so much inspiration as to the life I want to build for myself here. And to my surprise, I received so much warmth from the two-dozen people, most of which were indeed brown, who I had not met or known about whatsoever prior to. And after we established genuine human-to-human bonds, I got to know about the kind of art some of these people make.
As I met fellow artist after fellow artist after fellow artist, none of them made me feel big or small, regardless of who they were. Peers included writers, designers, rappers, singers, producers, directors, actors, and many multi-hyphenates. Them talking so openly about their work, their thoughts, anxieties and excitements over a casual beer was so validating to me as someone who hasn’t ever been around anything like this before.
Their commentary on the nature of making art itself really touched me as I realized that these seemingly indescribable feelings of adversity, self-doubt and fear I have felt so strongly and solipsistically are really shared by people much further along than me in their creative journeys. Their genuineness, authenticity and self-assurance were just off the charts. It gave me a glimmer of hope, though I realized in the moment that this was a rather small sample size.
What really took me aback, though, was how that energy carried over 1:1 at the 1,500+ person event that followed. We were some of the first people to arrive at the venue, and as I saw the stages fill up, I didn’t feel the same unease I often notice in similar spaces in DC / around other brown people. I didn’t witness an ounce of judgment or unsavory energy or exclusionism. I was surrounded by friends, lovers and peers from the past, present and future. I traveled from stage to stage and saw the same DJs I met earlier giving this event some of their lifetime performances. Barely anyone had their phones out. I turned mine off.
And for the first time in a long time, I was in a predominantly brown space that I was comfortable in. I didn’t feel like anyone was looking at me sideways. I felt like I belonged there from the second I walked in to well after exiting as the day broke hours later. I lost myself in the music and the crowd, and both welcomed me with equally open arms.
I went to a university filled with students who were each individually the creams of their respective crops in high school and then fell into an environment where everyone else was just like us. That transition was so intimidating to me that it scared me into taking college seriously just so I wouldn’t fall behind. And while it ended up being seminal for me and the way I think and operate to this day, it was still fear-based motivation. Going into DOST, I was worried that I’d feel similarly intimidated or lost in a crowd filled with other creatives, but I was proven wrong like I had never been before. I was reassured by the radical level of friendliness, openness and welcoming nature displayed by everyone I spoke to.
I met artists who I shared sentiments with, including those on the nature of “South Asian artistry” and people who have hijacked the core idea, built low-hanging surface-level fruit for mindless mass consumption and created followings that perpetuate mindsets and mannerisms that give our people a bad name. Or collectives/groups/activists that claim to serve a greater good and “build community” but shut out and diminish those with differing perspectives and approaches. Or people who love to talk shit but have nothing to show for it besides derision and insincerity.
Throughout the night, I met Farooque Bhai, who’s changing the nature of Bangladeshi pop music through his inspiration from Frank Ocean. And Dilhaar, who started his opening set with booming dance music that filled up the room before the crowd even had a chance to and ended his closing set with bhangra tunes that didn’t feel contrived but rather welcomed by the performer and crowd alike. And Yoana (who also goes by BENGALI BARBIE) & Sezan (who makes art under the name Vitiligo), a Desi power couple of symbiosis between design and raw artistic expression making commentary on the nature of patriotism and acceptability politics. Hearing about the real motivations, aspirations, and cultural ontologies of these individuals blew my mind. So many of them were saying and expressing what I had privately been thinking for years. It was one of the most validating experiences of my entire life.
Art has the power to change the hearts, minds, thoughts and opinions of those who make it as much as those of those who consume it. One night in Bushwick changed my perspective on what people can be, how they can inspire you, and what their energy can mean to you if you just give them a chance. My understanding of New York City so far is that all you really need to carve out your own space is sheer force of will and a pure heart.
The six hours I spent at Elsewhere that night did more good for my soul than it could ever do damage to my ears. Individual songs and DJ names converged into a warehouse where everyone moved as if they were part of something larger than the sum of its parts. The “clout game” didn’t matter. No one seemed like they were there to be seen there. Word got around that Jasmeet “JusReign” Raina was in attendance, but the assumed crowd of parasocial opportunists storming for photos for Instagram was nowhere to be found.
Everyone in attendance understood, signed and sealed the social contract of love, hospitality and true community the second they scanned their tickets and walked in. It was literally, abstractly and structurally a safe space. I found myself asking well-dressed person after well-dressed person about their outfits, accessories and personal style and what informed their ridiculously good taste. This led to so many formative conversations, minute details of which were lost into the night. But a newfound optimism emerged from the amalgam and remains within me.
The community of like minds I found at the DOST Elsewhere Takeover gave me hope and confidence that I will have no problem floating above the weight of my insecurities or previously held judgments. After this night, I can never again see life in the same cynical, discouraged, defeatist way. And as Rochelle Jordan, one of my favorite artists making music right now, says: “Don’t be afraid to take up space.”