Shahida Khanam grew up hearing taunts about her Gujjar identity, but instead of turning away, the 27-year-old chose to wear it with pride, and in doing so, sparked a cultural awakening in her community. From Aragam, a Bandipora village about 70 km from Srinagar, Shahida has started the first tribal museum in the area in an effort to change how people see Gujjars, and more importantly, how Gujjars see themselves. The relationship between Kashmiris and Gujjars is shaped by a long history of coexistence marked by subtle tensions, cultural divergence, and shifting political dynamics. Kashmiris, often urban, have historically held social and political dominance in the Valley, while Gujjars, a pastoral tribal community speaking Gojri, have long lived on the margins, both geographically and economically. Despite centuries of living side by side, Gujjars have often been perceived as outsiders within the Kashmiri Muslim mainstream, viewed through a lens of social hierarchy and sometimes exclusion. After the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019, Gujjars saw new opportunities, while many Kashmiris felt politically sidelined. This has subtly recast the inter-community dynamic, introducing new undercurrents.
Shahida’s museum, which also doubles as a skill centre for local girls, was launched in 2022. It offers a rare and intimate window into the everyday lives, traditions, and artistry of Jammu’s Gujjar community, featuring traditional dresses, jewellery, utensils, wooden chairs and stools, cultural artifacts, agricultural tools, photographs passed down generations. “Most of these things were collected from my grandmother and my paternal aunt,” Shahida says. “My father brings back whatever he finds from hilly areas where he works.” Over the years, the museum has created significant awareness. “Earlier, girls were hesitant to wear our traditional dresses even during weddings,” Shahida says. “But now, you won’t find a single bride in our village who doesn’t wear her traditional Gujjar attire on her big day.” Their headgear, called Bali, a pointed cap worn by Kashmiri Gujjars, is distinct from the rounded caps worn by Gujjars in Jammu. “But no one knows such things. We are seen as one homogenous group. There are Gujjar-Bakarwals and Gujjars—one group roams the hills, and the other stays put. Our traditions, even our language, vary.”
Shahida recalls how the G20 Leaders’ Summit invited members from various communities to showcase their culture. “Our community wasn’t even given a chance to represent ourselves,” she says. “Instead, people from outside the Gujjar community borrowed our dresses and wore them on stage—as if they were us.” For Shahida, that moment was telling. The visibility of the attire didn’t translate into visibility for the people who owned it. “We were watching from the sidelines while others wore our identity,” she says. “That’s when I knew—we have to claim our narrative before others rewrite it for us.”