TikTok Changemaker Natasha Thasan Is Among The Women Redefining Empowerment & Inclusivity

As International Women’s Day approaches, a new wave of digital disruptors is using their platforms to challenge societal norms, redefine representation, and amplify voices that have long been overlooked. These TikTok trailblazers are breaking barriers—not just in their industries, but in the way we think about culture, identity, and inclusivity.

From reshaping traditions to sparking critical conversations about race, gender, and belonging, these creators are leading with authenticity and purpose. We spoke with some of the most inspiring women making waves on TikTok to learn how they’re turning social media into a force for real-world change. Below, our interview with Natasha Thasan. —Noa Nichol

Your platform has redefined the sari as a symbol of cultural inclusivity. What inspired you to challenge the traditional perception of this garment?

Honestly? I never set out to “redefine” the sari—I just wanted to wear it in a way that felt natural to me. Growing up, I had this love-hate relationship with it. I adored how regal my mom and aunties looked, but it also felt so serious, like you had to be a certain type of woman to wear it “properly.”

One day, I stopped overthinking and just draped it on my own terms. No blouse? Fine. No petticoat? Even better. And that’s when it clicked—the sari isn’t meant to be restrictive. It’s meant to be lived in. It’s ours to play with, to reclaim, and to make our own.

You’ve pioneered the blouseless drape and worn the sari in ways that defy convention. What has the response been like from both your community and the wider public?

Whew, it’s been a ride! On one side, there’s been so much love. People message me saying they finally feel seen, or that they’re trying a drape they never thought they could pull off. That makes me emotional, because I remember being that girl—wanting to wear a sari but feeling like I had to “get it right.”

On the other side? Some folks were shocked. Like, where is your blouse, ma’am? But I remind them that before colonial rule, many South Asian women wore saris like this every day. It’s not radical—it’s ours. I always say: culture evolves when we live in it, not when we preserve it in a glass case.

You’ve spoken about the colonial influence on the modern sari. Why is it important for people to understand this history, and how does it shape the way we view traditional attire today?

Because once you know, you can’t unsee it.

The way we’ve been taught to wear the sari—with a blouse, a petticoat, everything tucked away perfectly—wasn’t always the norm. That came with British rule, when covering up was seen as “proper” and our natural way of dressing was deemed “indecent.” But before that? South Asian women wore saris freely—wrapped differently by region, by weather, by personal comfort.

I don’t think we should abandon the ways we wear saris today, but I do think we should question why we feel some ways are more “respectable” than others. Once you understand that history, you start seeing tradition as fluid—not fixed. And that changes everything.

Inclusivity is central to your message. How do you envision the future of cultural fashion evolving beyond its historical and gendered limitations?

Oh, I dream of a world where people wear cultural fashion the way they wear jeans and a t-shirt—effortlessly, without over-explaining. Where a guy in a sari, a girl in a veshti, or someone in a fusion of both isn’t a statement—it’s just them, getting dressed.

I want cultural fashion to feel less like a rulebook and more like an open world—where people can experiment, remix, and express themselves freely, without feeling like they’re walking on eggshells.

To me, the future of fashion isn’t about breaking tradition—it’s about bringing it back to what it was always meant to be: personal, evolving, and limitless.

For those who want to embrace cultural fashion but fear judgment, what advice would you give to help them wear it with confidence?

Start small, private, and for yourself. Try wearing a sari at home—drape it in a way that feels good, dance around in it, take mirror selfies (trust me, this helps 😭). The more you see yourself in it, the more natural it will feel.

And remember: people will always have opinions. Some will love it, some won’t get it, and that’s okay. Confidence doesn’t come from knowing everyone will approve—it comes from knowing that you do.

Wear it once, then again, and then again until it feels like second nature. Because nothing feels better than realizing you were never the problem—people’s expectations were.

TikTok has become such a dynamic space for self-expression and cultural exploration. How has TikTok’s format and community helped you amplify your message of cultural freedom and creativity in wearing the sari?

TikTok is the place where experimentation thrives. It gives everyone a place to play and doesn’t wait for perfection.

The short-form format lets me show, not just tell—to drape a sari in real-time, letting people see the flow, the ease, the endless possibilities. And the best part? It made cultural fashion feel less intimidating and more inviting—like something you don’t need permission to play with. Someone who never thought they could wear a sari could watch a one-minute clip and think, Wait… I can actually try this? And the answer is always yes. Because sari draping isn’t just for South Asian girls—drape play is for everyone.

And the community? Unmatched. There’s something magical about seeing my comments section turn into a space of hype, unlearning, and shared joy—a place where women of all backgrounds see themselves reflected in some way. Maybe it’s the confidence, the love for culture, or just the simple joy of getting dressed in something that makes you feel powerful. There’s room for all of it. And that’s the beauty of it—fashion, identity, and history all colliding in the best, most effortless way.