When Aishwarya Rai appeared on The Late Show with David Letterman in the early 2000s, it was supposed to be a light-hearted celebrity interview. What it turned into, however, was a quietly powerful moment of cultural assertion–and for many Indians watching from across the globe, it felt like a dignified mic-drop.
During the interview, Letterman asked Aishwarya whether it was true that she still lived with her parents. The tone was casual, slightly amused—tinged with that brand of humour often reserved for questioning cultures that don’t mirror the West. Without skipping a beat, Aishwarya replied, “Yes, I live with my parents. It’s very common in India. And we don’t have to take appointments to have dinner with them either.”
Rai had just articulated, in a single sentence, the depth of Indian familial bonds — something often misunderstood or stereotyped in Western media.
The interview, which began with Letterman attempting to grasp the nuances of Indian cinema and culture, covered a variety of topics — from the origins of “Bollywood” to the number of languages Aishwarya speaks (four, by the way, including Hindi, Marathi, Tulu, and Tamil). She shared details about her upbringing in Mumbai, her modelling career that began “by accident,” and the joy of starring in musicals that reflect the celebratory nature of Indian society.
According to counselling psychologist Srishti Vatsa, what Aishwarya did was flip the power dynamic—without any showmanship. “Put-downs often aren’t just questions,” she explains. “They’re power moves. Especially when disguised as humour or curiosity. These are called microaggressions—subtle, often unintentional slights that communicate bias or disrespect. Whether or not the intent is harmful, the impact is the same: you feel small, or like something’s off.”
In Aishwarya’s case, the remark about living with her parents came laced with judgement, as if choosing closeness with family was somehow regressive. But instead of falling into the trap of explaining or justifying her culture, she simply responded with what felt true to her. “It’s not sarcasm. It’s not defence,” says Srishti. “It’s a boundary. Quiet and clear.”
And that’s what makes the moment powerful.
Microaggressions, even when subtle, are forms of passive-aggressive control—especially when repeated in public spaces or by people in positions of power. It’s the friend who mocks your accent. The relative who says, “You’ve put on weight, but it suits you.” The message is framed as harmless. But the discomfort it leaves behind? That’s real—and often intentional.
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Srishti adds, “When someone questions your choices, especially under the pretext of humour, it’s often their own discomfort speaking. But you’re not required to make them feel better about that. You don’t owe them understanding.”
So what do you owe yourself?
- Spot the control: If you’re constantly second-guessing whether you’re overreacting, it might be a sign someone’s playing on your self-doubt.
- Set quiet boundaries: A calm pause. A simple “That wasn’t funny.” Even silence. It’s enough.
- Don’t shrink: You don’t have to become smaller to make others more comfortable.
- You get to decide: Whether it’s your family setup, culture, values, or voice—what’s okay is up to you, not them.
In the end, Aishwarya didn’t just defend Indian culture on an American talk show. She showed that self-respect doesn’t need a performance. Just presence.
