“Don’t even get me started on beer and yoga events,” says beer blogger Sonia B, and I laugh out loud. The cultural-religious incompatibility of yoga with beer (or any form of alcohol) is so rarely acknowledged that I forget about it sometimes. I enjoy the shivering spark of recognition I feel in Sonia’s comment.
It’s not often that I get to have conversations like this—there aren’t many other South Asian women in the beer world. Although there are some 5.4 million South Asians in the U.S. (and close to 2 million in Canada), we are noticeably absent within the ranks of a sector that made $29.3 billion in 2019 (the last year of data available). So absent, in fact, that per the Brewers Association’s recent Operations Benchmarking Survey, just 1.9% of U.S. brewery owners are of Asian descent—and that data doesn’t include further geographical breakdowns. And among the scant number of South Asian-owned breweries currently operating in the U.S., I have yet to meet a single female owner.
When I started using the hashtag #southasianbeerlady on Instagram about eight months ago, I was taken aback to find that of over 1 billion users, I was the only person describing myself in those terms. I found next to no Indian, Bangladeshi, Sri Lankan, Pakistani or other Desi beer women, ladies, girls, nor gals. I did manage to track down fellow #brownbeerbabe Amrita Kaur Virk during my searches, and while these methods aren’t exactly scientific, the results point to a lack of visibility that genuinely shocked me.
Ultimately, South Asian women face the same challenges that beset all marginalized groups attempting to enter the broadly cis white male beer industry. But those barriers are enhanced by the challenges of traditional attitudes surrounding women and alcohol across the South Asian diaspora, as well as familial pressure on South Asian women to conform to said traditions.
It took months of searching to make connections with other South Asian women with a public interest in beer. Eventually I met four other women who were keen to share their experiences with me. In thanking me for reaching out to her, Virk confessed that “I didn’t realize how much I had to say about all this.” I’m not sure any of us did.
My own journey into beer began at the first Great British Beer Festival I attended in London, back in 2005. I was very much a wine drinker before then, but walking into the vast expanse of the Earls Court Exhibition Centre and seeing the near-endless array of booths piqued my curiosity. Soon, I felt inspired to seek out as many different beers as I could find, and to discover new breweries. I became a CAMRA member, then a volunteer, and took on an active role in festival bartending and PR, relishing the opportunity to further my own knowledge while expounding on beer’s virtues to others.
I discovered craft beer later, during my travels to the U.S., and grasped it with the same fervor. Back in London, I joined beer groups, took part in festivals, organized charity fundraising events, and hosted guided walking tours. I loved the geekiness of the beer world, the knowledge-based nerdom that combined studious note-taking with lively, semi-competitive conversation and voracious—yet considered—consumption.
Mostly, I was the only Brown girl “doing beer.” This didn’t initially strike me as unusual. Segueing from the pub to the taproom as I got more involved in the industry, and then moved to the U.S., was simply a case of swapping out predominantly older British white men for younger, bearded white men as my peers.
Because I grew up in a majority-white environment, being in the beer word felt like business as usual. The need to prove myself, to show that I belonged—the work required to gain that acceptance—has been such a regular part of my day-to-day life that it took this long for me to really question the absence of other South Asian women around me. But now that I’ve seen it, it is very difficult to unsee.
That’s what led me to seek out Sonia B, Kirti Dwivedi, Amrita Kaur Virk, and Sarah Nadeem via Instagram.
Canadian-born Sonia B (who asked only to be identified by the first initial of her last name) posts as @HouseofSours, and her family hails from North India by way of Fiji. She’s been drinking craft beer for over seven years, and is part of the beer scene in Toronto and New York. She got into craft beer through her fiancé. “On our first date he took me to a craft beer bar to try something new and experience how vast and unique the craft beer world can be. Until that time I had pretty much only had macro brews but after my first taste of a sour beer, Bellwoods’ Jelly King, my eyes were open and I was looking for more,” she says.
Dwivedi is based in Phoenix, Arizona and is also of North Indian heritage. She posts as @BoozyBrownGirl and got into craft beer back in 2012, during Arizona Beer Week. Dwivedi also cites the variety and dynamism of the scene as her inspiration. “There aren’t any rules, per se … kind of how I like to live my life!” she says.
Virk posts out of Montreal as @BrwnBrewBabe, and is of Punjabi descent. As a professional sourdough baker, she found beer was a natural next step. “The first time I went to a beer festival, in 2012, it made me realize just how many varieties there are,” she says. “I was already tied into the restaurant world, so beer-and-food pairings was something that I found even more fascinating than wine and food.”
Nadeem is a Houston-based beer blogger and homebrewer of Pakistani heritage who posts as @hoppywonderwoman. She also loves craft beer for its thrilling range and variation. “I had always enjoyed beer, preferably Mexican Lagers, but my curious mind wanted to venture out and see what other styles of beers were out there,” she says. “I was tired of drinking the same stuff every day, and wanted to expand my palate.”
These anecdotes will probably sound familiar to anyone recalling their early experiences with craft beer, but they are shaped by unique circumstances. Such experiences took place in spaces where there was almost no one else who looked like us, and where our presence was, and continues to be, perceived as anything from curious to downright unacceptable. That there are so few of us with these experiences points to hurdles that are invisible to craft beer’s majority audience.
Being a South Asian woman does not offer a guarantee of shared or recognized experience—of course, we are no more homogenous than any other ethnic group. Attitudes to alcohol vary significantly across the Subcontinent and beyond, and are often rooted in religion. Nonetheless, many feel that there is a shared stigma, pervasive among but not limited to older generations, around women drinking beer, drinking in public, and sometimes drinking at all.
“I know of many young South Asian women who refuse to post a photo of themselves with a drink in their hand, because there is such a focus on ‘what will people say,’ and ‘community judgment,’” says Dwivedi.
In extreme incidences, female drinkers in India have been singled out and attacked in the past; even today, where rates of alcohol consumption among women are increasing in places like Delhi, and when the taboo around women’s alcohol consumption is starting to lessen, men still drink at far higher rates. The social reasons for this discrepancy are complex, and many are deeply entrenched.
“As a child, after dinner at every family get-together, the men would relax in the living room and have some beers and scotch while the women would stay in the kitchen and have chai,” Sonia B says. “I didn’t grow up with the notion that alcohol was consumed by respectable women, and if it was, it was in extreme moderation.”
This scenario is not uncommon in South Asian homes or social occasions. When I cross that divide to stand with the men and drink with my father, I am, more often than not, indulged because of my Western upbringing, and have been fortunate in that regard.
“I believe the only member of my family who knows about my love for craft beer is my younger brother. No one else knows, because I know they would never approve of it, or [would] look at me weird,” says Nadeem. “It’s always different for women in the Pakistani culture.”
Sonia B describes that attitude as one of pervasive social surveillance. “As a South Asian woman, your appearance and behavior [are] constantly monitored and judged, and those opinions will not be solely cast on you, but your whole family as well. When you go out into the world, you are representing your parents, your family, and everyone they’ve ever associated with. If you don’t meet the cultural expectations, everyone else will know about it, gossip, and judge.”
For a South Asian woman, having a beer can therefore be an act of rebellion, an assertion of independence, a way of carving out a distinct identity. It can also be a point of conflict. “I was raised in a white, Canadian town where I was the only person of color in my friend group, so balancing the two cultures was a true tightrope at times,” Sonia B reflects. “I often fought hard against traditional expectations because to me they felt antiquated and oppressive. Over time I normalized the idea of drinking [...] Having a drink was a visible way to express my independence, a small but powerful statement in the home.”
My own experience chimes significantly with Sonia’s. Growing up in a small, very white, provincial town in the U.K., I found the social norms of my peers clashed with those of my family. I had to push back fiercely against the cultural expectations of Sri Lankans from the pre-war generation. It was a tug-of-war I won, but it’s easy to understand why many South Asian women might not want to engage with that level of stress and confrontation.
“Our culture is filled with taboos and unsaid rules and expectations, particularly for the women, and it can be challenging to step outside of them even if it is for something as simple as having a beer,” says Sonia B.
That beer is enjoyable is, for those of us who know and love it, a given. But justifying the consumption of that beer with the knowledge that it could antagonize loved ones is a challenge, and one that is only furthered by our precarious status as sometimes-outsiders. All five of us grew up in the West as second-generation immigrants, in very white environments. Yet from London to Montreal to Houston to Phoenix, the experience of being the “only Brown woman in the brewery” has been familiar to all.
“I am probably the only Pakistani woman from Houston who openly drinks craft beer, I think,” says Nadeem. “I may be the only South Asian woman at every brewery I go to, but I never felt like I was out of place.” Virk’s experiences have been similar, if less positive. “I feel like […] POCs have to work extra hard—we’re never taken seriously until we show how skillful/useful we can be […] Like many things, beer has been colonized. Which opens it up to sexism and racism.”
Being taken seriously is an ongoing challenge within craft beer, which operates according to its own code of surveillance. “I find that most people are surprised to see me at the bar, asking about their beers—like seeing a llama in a suit,” says Dwivedi. “But when I sit down and start asking questions, any awkwardness usually falls away, as most brewers are very passionate and enjoy discussing their inspirations and flavor profiles.”
This also resonates with my own experience. Having spent most of my life navigating white cultural spaces, I’m no stranger to being gawked at. Within the context of beer, I’m used to folks doing a double-take when they discover that their CAMRA bartender or craft beer walking tour guide is a youngish South Asian woman. Being asked, either openly or in a more coded manner, precisely what I’m doing serving beer, talking about beer, and generally being a “beer person” is fatiguing. Such skepticism can be deflected with insider conversation, as Dwivedi describes, but that can turn genuine enthusiasm for the subject into an onerous demand—evidence of the industry gatekeeping that can twist light-hearted beer-chat into an exclusionary weapon.
“Do I feel unwelcome? No. Do I feel welcome? Mmm, I guess so—as much as I do in any other male-dominated space,” says Sonia B. “As with most women, the usual barrage of questions to qualify my place [is] inevitable. It’s always funny when you reference a brewery or mention a technique that surprises the man interviewing you, and to see how their body language and perception changes when they realize you know what you are talking about. Men approach me in taprooms with the same energy as when I’m wearing a band tee and they need to know how I’ve come to wear that shirt.”
Sonia’s words could so easily be my own. I remember the first few times I walked into the Volunteer Arms at the Great British Beer Festival, and the slight hush and head-turn my presence caused. When you look different from everyone else, you know that you have to be ready to step up and answer people’s questions, explain yourself and justify your presence at any given moment, whether you feel like it or not. But over time, I did manage to find genuine community in those spaces and—in pre-COVID-19 days, at least—found myself regularly greeted with hugs, smiles, and pats on the back. The warmth and acceptance the beer world can offer does, to me, feel like something worth fighting for.
Today, there are a few breweries in North America with at least one South Asian owner, like MERIT Brewing Company in Hamilton, Ontario; Azadi Brewing Company in Chicago; Connecticut’s Other Desi Beer Company; and Denver, Colorado’s Spice Trade Brewing Co. Such beer businesses are not only putting South Asian ingredients to creative use—many are also prioritizing visibility by featuring South Asian designs on their can art and in their branding.
Beers like MERIT’s Chanan (a dry-hopped Saison with orange peel and Indian coriander), Azadi’s Kavi Cardamom Golden Ale, and Spice Trade’s Chai Milk Stout exemplify the ways that distinctly South Asian ingredients can provide brewers with creative possibility. Other Desi offers a predominantly Indian-focused beer menu that serves as an homage to the flavors of owner Ravi Patel’s heritage.
There are, inevitably, also plenty of examples of breweries that appropriate and misuse South Asian imagery. Sonia B recounts a particular incident when she had deliberately sought out a beer due to its branding. “I did, however, find it mildly amusing and deeply annoying when I ordered a beer, which has a name originating from Sanskrit, and the brewery staff member incorrectly corrected my pronunciation,” she says. “I walked back to my table bewildered that the staff had the audacity to correct me.”
This type of experience reflects a frustrating lack of cultural awareness. “I was so excited to try a beer that I felt a cultural connection with, even if only in name, and it was so quickly taken away from me by someone with no understanding of the history of the words that were using,” she says.
The stark difference between representation and misrepresentation could not be more clearly illustrated in this anecdote. While we want to see ourselves and our culture visible and present in the beer world, this kind of craven appropriation is unacceptable and alienating.
Everyone has their own strategies when it comes to negotiating spaces where they are in the minority. I find it can, up to a point, be fun and empowering being different. My response has always been to make myself bolder, brighter, more visible—to step into my difference as much as possible, and to use any attention I receive to break down stereotypes and challenge preconceptions.
This approach can sap one’s emotional energy. But for me, the end result has been greater acceptance, and an ability to open the door for others: I feel good because I’m in the space I want to be in, doing what I want to do, as myself and on my own terms. “There still aren’t many of us, so it makes us stand out like a rare gem,” says Nadeem. Dwivedi agrees. “Because there are few of us, our voices can easily be amplified in our local markets, but we can also elevate one another with the community we create, which is pretty special.”
We also have the advantage of our perspective, an informed insight into the ways that South Asian flavors can bring much-needed differentiation and diversity to the brewing side of things.
“I plan on opening a brewery with my partner within the next two years, and I hope to collaborate with him, and introduce our beer community in Houston to some South Asian flavors in beers that they’ve been missing out on,” Nadeem says. Sonia B is also full of ideas. “I’m thinking cashews, pistachio, cardamom, and lots and lots of sugar. My dad likes to joke with me and say NEIPAs taste like karela water, so maybe a bitter melon IPA wouldn’t be too radical to try out? Nimbu pani would very easily translate into a Gose. Maybe even a rosewater Sour? The flavor combinations are definitely out there, the familiarity with ingredients and experimentation just has to happen.”
So, what measures can the industry take to make us feel more welcome? For starters, representation is key. “I think the beer industry needs to work on reaching out to all POC communities,” says Sonia B. “Continued diversification of staff, gender, menus, even locations can create many opportunities for ‘others’ to feel welcome in a new space.”
Dwivedi points to the need for broader social media representation, too. “I think that breweries and beer brands need to show more diversity in their advertising and social media outreach. So much of the time, you see imagery of young “hipster” or “millennial” men drinking and enjoying craft beer, with women being pushed into special ‘female-centric’ events hosted at breweries—why can’t they show a diverse customer base in their social media outreach?”
Virk highlights similar issues. “Representation matters. Personally for me, seeing Black or Brown women being empowered would help. Not having racist/sexist/culture-appropriating labels. With advertising there’s a misconception that only white people can enjoy craft beer.”
These are themes that are familiar to anyone from a minority background trying to find their place in the beer world, and are just one of many reasons why it’s so crucial for members of marginalized groups to stick together in demanding equity. There are also very specific challenges facing South Asian women entering the beer scene—but these key issues of diversification, outreach and, of course, representation, are also broadly, intersectionally relevant.
While South Asian representation in the U.S.’s beer scene has been slow to build, craft beer has continued to spread through the Subcontinent itself. There are now over 200 breweries in India alone. As that number continues to rise, some believe it will result in changed cultural touchstones, and new drinking habits that could filter down through the diaspora.
Karina Aggarwal is the director of Gigglewater Beverage Concepts, where she consults with beer brands in India, organizes consumer workshops and trade trainings, and has judged international beer competitions.
“Over the last five-to-six years, we’ve seen a number of homegrown beer brands, both commercial as well as craft, mushroom and do exceedingly well,” she says. “Certain cities, like [Bengaluru, Mumbai] and Pune have microbreweries mushrooming, which in turn creates a larger, well-informed beer-drinking audience.”
Shreya Sahasrabudhe is a brewer at Bengaluru’s By The Peepal Brewery and has been in the industry for nearly three years. She points to “urbanization, an increase in the working female population and increased pay scales” as key industry drivers. “Curiosity also plays a role,” she says, “as people are now more open to trying out new styles and ready to experiment, sensory-wise.” Aggarwal also highlights a blossoming two-way relationship between the diaspora and the Subcontinent. “Some of the craft brands existing right now are founded by erstwhile NRIs [non-resident Indians] who moved back to set up businesses here … and there’s certainly a lot of curiosity and excitement overseas among those who keep track of what India is brewing.”
The growth and expansion of the industry have also had a significant impact on the acceptability of women working in beer in India. “My first few years here meant battling the general taboo of alcohol plus the prejudices surrounding women who work in the field. Specific to beer, there was always the assumption that beer was a man’s drink [...] The phrase I got often was, ‘You don’t look like someone who drinks beer.’ Still, [I’m] not sure what that someone is supposed to look like!” Aggarwal quips. But women are increasingly becoming more accepted in the beer world. “It has become a lot easier in the last few years for women to work in alcobev in India, particularly in beer […] We are having more conversations about being inclusive in the workspace and watching for and correcting biases. There’s a lot of vocal support from women and men brewers.”
Sahasrabudhe agrees. “Society’s mindset is still a little rigid, but it’s changing […] in the industry I have always been welcomed and encouraged by co-workers.” While this is a positive and encouraging picture, relaxed attitudes to women and alcohol are still limited to urban areas, as Sahasradbudhe notes. Representation in India is also vastly outpacing the rest of the Subcontinent, where craft beer has yet to take off in a major way. Nonetheless, breweries like Byg Brewski Brewing Company in Bengaluru, Gateway Brewing Company in Mumbai, Geist Craft Beer in Bengaluru, and By the Peepal in Bengaluru, are employing female brewers and head brewers, and are taking the lead in opening the world of craft beer up to South Asian women.
“If you build it, they will come! [...] The more people in the door, curious about what craft beer culture is about, the better,” says Sonia B. “As these businesses grow back home, I think those in the South Asian diaspora will feel more confident and interested in exploring their own local venues. It can be nothing but a good thing for South Asian beer culture.”
Dwivedi agrees. “[A]s young people of all genders enter the workforce and adjust to urban areas, I think that there will be less of a stigma about drinking beer, especially craft beers.” “Yes, I already see it happening,” agrees Virk. “Especially on social media. More beer-tasting accounts springing up in India. It makes me really happy, seeing South Asian women taking an interest. And we’re encouraging the next generation and making space for them. Who knows, maybe there will be an all-Desi, all-women brewery in the next couple of years.”
It’s an optimistic vision, and one Nadeem is taking into her own hands. “I’ve had the dream to open up my own brewery for a while now, and I plan on making it a reality,” she says. “When it does become a reality, it may just be the first brewery to be owned by a South Asian female!”
Within North America, and across the diaspora, the ongoing challenges of representation and barriers to participation in the beer world are significant. Still, the future for South Asian women in beer feels brighter now than ever. We have so much to offer the industry, and big plans to raise our voices, increase our visibility, and make our dreams tangible.
“I think it is advantageous to be able to see the world through so many different lenses,” says Sonia B. “You are able to bring so much more to the table with a wide variety of interests and experiences. It is a wonderful thing to be a South Asian woman in beer.”
Words by Ruvani de SilvaIllustrations by Colette Holston
