The error in her history textbook called Sikhism a sect of another religion. When Kaur brought this up to her teacher, she was later asked to talk about Sikhism to students at her local high school.
“It became this responsibility now, like ‘OK, I have to represent all Sikhs and 500-plus years of Sikh history as a 12-year-old,” she said. “So it was kind of like this bittersweet thing: I had an opportunity to make a difference. But dang, why was it all my responsibility?”
For Sikhs, the use of a turban is a sacred discipline. The turban was once a symbol of royalty, and it became a part of the physical identity of Sikhs to symbolize giving dignity back to the people. The turban was also a symbol of nonconformity and political and spiritual sovereignty, she explained.
But for Kaur, who was a tween during the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the turban became a sign of being different.
Her father, who was wearing his turban and had a long beard at the time, once picked her up from school. When her classmates saw him, they called him “Osama bin Laden.”
Kaur herself was called a “terrorist” by her classmates, some of whom also asked her to “go back” to her country.
“You could see the ‘lack’ that people had in terms of understanding, which is really about connection with your own self,” she said. “If something like an external difference feels so threatening to you, you haven’t had the chance to experience yourself as an expansive being.”
She recalls her parents hanging American flags around their home as a way of showing their neighbors that they, too, were American and did not need to be feared.
Her father made national news at that time for his work helping veterans, Kaur said. He’s involved with the Interfaith Forum of Greater Dayton, which brings together leaders of multiple religions to educate the community about culture and faith.
Kaur said that she was inspired to further her education in conflict transformation and other studies after the killing of John Crawford III, who was was shot to death Aug. 5, 2014, by Beavercreek police officer Sean Williams after a man told dispatchers that a Black man was holding a rifle, appeared to be loading it and waving it near people, including children.
Crawford was holding a Crosman MK-177 BB/pellet rifle he found unpackaged on a store shelf.
“I knew that even if officers were charged, it was not really going to satisfy what brought 85 people out onto the streets, marching from Beavercreek to Xenia, eleven and a half miles,” she said. “I just knew there was something deeper there that we were seeking.”
And after completing graduate school in Virginia, she chose to come back to the Dayton area. She is the founder of The HeArt, a community healing and gathering space on Salem Avenue where artists, educators, healing practitioners and others come together.
The group has one resonating ideal: “sovereignty in community.” Kaur found community among Daytonians who wanted to see change in their community. She teaches a course about cultural humility at Wright State University and operates her own business, Circle of Roots, where she facilitates community education and healing as a consultant. She also splits her time between the Gem City and Costa Rica, where she goes for both rest and work.
And now, when Kaur wears a turban — she coordinates them with her outfits at times — it symbolizes carrying herself with esteem, but also living in unity.
“I know that headwrapping is something that a lot of different cultures have,” she said. “When I cover my head now, it’s almost like I’m connecting myself into that pool of global women.”
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