Inspiring cultural curiosity in our social worK practice
Inspiring Cultural Curiosity in Our Social Work Practice
Jalpa Vaidya Patel, LCSW, PPSC
Valarie Kaur (2016), activist, lawyer and author of Revolutionary Love, once said:
We are leaving our son a world that is more dangerous than the one that I was given.… I
know there will be moments, whether on the streets or the schoolyard, where my son will
still be seen as foreign, as suspect, as a terrorist. Just as black bodies are still seen as
criminal. Brown bodies are still seen as illegal. Trans bodies are still seen as immoral.
Indigenous bodies are still seen as savage. (2:40)
Her voice shook with power, and the room erupted in solemn agreement.
As an Indian-American mother, those words sit heavy with me. As a school social worker, I’ve
seen how sharing cultures and stories can build belonging. And as an MSW instructor, I often
ask, “How can we weave cultural curiosity into our practice?”
Over 400 languages are spoken in our schools (NCES, 2024), and studies show that cross- cultural interaction reduces prejudice (Pettigrew & Tropp, 2006). As a social worker, I know this well, but as a mother watching today’s news, I long for this spirit of openness more than ever— for my children and the students I serve.
HONORING FOUNDATIONS
I like to begin my talks with a Land Acknowledgment, believing that we can’t talk about culture without honoring the first caretakers. What started as something formal has become a ritual to me, a way to weave respect and justice into everyday spaces. Each time, it shifts the space and asks us to pause and listen to the wisdom still guiding social work today.
Kimmerer (2013) captures this beautifully:
We know that appreciation begets abundance. Why should it not be so for Mother Earth, who packs us lunch every single day? ... The land loves us back. She loves us with beans and tomatoes, with roasting ears and blackberries and birdsong. (p.116)
I’ve noticed this practice at home too. On a trip, my five-year-old asked a colleague with blonde hair and blue eyes, “Where are you from?” She smiled and said, “From here!” My daughter quickly replied, “Oh cool! You’re Native American!”
That moment sparked a deeper conversation. My colleague shared her German-Jewish roots and later told me, “What a beautiful way to view our world–we ALL have a story.”
I wonder, what does your connection to the land feel like, and how do you carry it into daily living?
ANCESTRAL WISDOM IN PRACTICE
Mullan (2023) reminds us that coping strategies are woven into every culture. I’ve seen this reflected in my own family. My mother-in-law, a retired social worker, seamlessly weaves ancestral practices into her routine. She draws on Eastern traditions—reiki, tapping, and yogic breathing exercises—to support clients in finding calm and ease.I’ve experienced this blending of cultural tools in my own work as well. A colleague introduced me to Radio Taiso, a Japanese morning exercise, as a movement practice. What started as a small experiment has become an icebreaker—an invitation for students to share their own traditions and self-care customs.
Mullan (2023) describes this return to ancestral practices as a way of remembering what has always brought healing. She writes,
“Cultures and societies have danced and chanted around the fire as flames energized their purposes and brought their consciousness to higher states of awareness and peace.… We are coming back to the root—back home to what we know heals.” (p. 302)
Her words feel like an invitation. What ancestral wisdom calls to you, and how might it weave into your practice?
GENERATIONAL TRAUMA AND CULTURE
Cultural practices carry wisdom for healing and resilience; honoring them also means noticing when certain patterns come from survival rather than tradition. Menakem (2017) describes how trauma can ripple across generations and be mistaken for culture:
After months or years, unhealed trauma can appear to become part of someone’s personality.… And if it gets transmitted and compounded through multiple families and generations, it can start to look like culture. But it isn’t culture. It’s traumatic retention that has lost its context over time. (p. 31)
He reminds us that survival strategies—while once protective—can show up today as cultural norms. I’ve seen this in my own family history from Gujarat, India. Under British colonial rule, lighter skin was privileged while darker tones were devalued as “undesirable.” The legacy lingers in the form of colorism, echoed in the popularity of skin-lightening products. I remember watching my grandmother apply face powder that was lighter than her natural complexion. As a child, I found this confusing; now I feel compassion—perhaps “fairer” once felt “safer.”
By noticing these inherited patterns, we can begin to untangle healing practices from survival responses. What reflections surface for you?
BRINGING CULTURAL CURIOSITY INTO PRACTICE
How do we weave cultural curiosity into our work? I've been experimenting with this question for many years in my personal and professional life.
I’ve seen schools celebrate cultural holidays, such as Lunar New Year and Hanukkah, and bring in practices like sound healing and yoga. Recently, I led cultural activities at my children’s school, where parents celebrated Hispanic Heritage Month with salsa dancing at recess. Some kids jumped into the conga line, while others watched from the sidelines. My daughter proudly showed me her new steps. Moments like these remind me how simple celebrations can spark connection.
For me, cultural curiosity is about belonging. I deeply notice representation in media, books, and spaces. When my daughters or students feel unseen, I return to the teachings from the Land Acknowledgment: Indigenous peoples are the first caretakers of this land, and still are today.Over time, families have come carrying their own story of heritage and belonging. Saying this regularly seems to spark curiosity and questions like, “I wonder what their family story is?”
Of course, not every tradition is straightforward. How do we hold space for holidays that land differently for different people? At Thanksgiving, I’ve seen students reflect on family celebrations, while others name it as a day of mourning. During Black History Month, I ask how they carry these conversations into field placements, and often they admit it isn’t recognized at all. Similar tensions surface with the Fourth of July and Columbus Day. How have you navigated these complicated moments?
What surprises me most is how contagious curiosity can be. Students who once sat quietly now ask classmates about their weekend traditions. Parents linger at pickup to trade recipes. My daughters come home asking us to try new foods they’ve seen friends enjoying at lunch. These little exchanges make me wonder, what small practices could spark curiosity in your spaces?
STARTING WHERE WE ARE
When asked what advice he would give in today’s world, South African spiritual leader Desmond Tutu replied, “What can you do to help the situation? You might not be able to do a great deal, but start where you are and do what you can, where you are” (Dalai Lama et al., 2016, p. 116).
I believe this is our invitation to sprinkle a little cultural curiosity into our practice. Every small gesture—asking a question, noticing a tradition, creating space for a story—–can widen the lens through which we see one another. That kind of awareness ripples outward, bringing belonging to neighborhoods, classrooms, and playgrounds. As Kaur reminds us, we have a chance to leave our children a better home than the one we know.
Social workers can’t fix everything. But we must try, right where we are. And trying matters, with every small effort adding up. In the words of author Arundhati Roy (2003), “Another worldis not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day I can hear her breathing” (p. 86).
Jalpa Vaidya Patel, LCSW, PPSC, serves as an adjunct professor in the School of Social Work at California State University, Long Beach. She can be contacted at Jalpa.Patel@csulb.edu.
REFERENCES
Dalai Lama, T., & Tutu, D., with Abrams, D. (2016). The book of joy: Lasting happiness in a changing world. Avery.
Kaur, V. (2016, November 17). Darkness of the womb [Video].
Kimmerer, R. W. (2013). Braiding sweetgrass: Indigenous wisdom, scientific knowledge, and the teachings of plants. Milkweed Editions.
Menakem, R. (2017). My grandmother’s hands: Racialized trauma and the pathway to mending our hearts and bodies. Central Recovery Press.
Mullan, J. (2023). Decolonizing therapy: Oppression, historical trauma, and politicism in mental health. Legacy Lit.National Center for Education Statistics. (2024). English learners in public schools. U.S.
Department of Education, Institute of Education Sciences. https://nces.ed.gov/programs/coe/indicator/cgf
Pettigrew, T. F., & Tropp, L. R. (2006). A meta-analytic test of intergroup contact theory. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 90(5), 751– 783. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.90.5.751
Roy, A. (2003). War talk. South End Press.