Goan-ness, the vibrant cultural identity of Goa, is more than a regional marker—it is a living, breathing assertion of life against the weight of colonial history. Forged in the crucible of Portuguese colonization, Goan-ness emerges as a decolonial force, a creative act of resistance that subverts imposed structures while generating a distinct way of being.

By drawing on Luce Irigaray’s feminist concept of mimesis and Homi Bhabha’s postcolonial notion of mimicry, we can see how Goan-ness reclaims agency, transforms colonial symbols, and even recasts St. Francis Xavier as Goycho Saib—a decolonial embodiment of local spirit.

This article explores how Goan-ness, through mimetic resistance, dismantles the legacy of Portuguese rule and cultivates a life-affirming Goan existence.

Luce Irigaray’s concept of mimesis offers a powerful lens for understanding resistance. In her feminist philosophy, mimesis is a deliberate act of imitation, where the marginalized—often women—adopt dominant patriarchal forms not to conform but to expose and disrupt their limitations. By exaggerating or playfully repeating these forms, the mimic reveals their constructed nature, creating space for alternative ways of being.

For Irigaray, mimesis is not passive copying but a strategic performance that destabilizes power while affirming the vitality of the marginalized.

Homi Bhabha’s postcolonial mimicry complements this idea, focusing on the colonial encounter. Bhabha describes mimicry as the colonizer’s demand for a “reformed, recognizable Other”—a colonized subject who imitates the colonizer’s culture but remains “almost the same, but not quite.” This imperfect imitation produces ambivalence, as the mimic both reinforces and undermines colonial authority.

The “slippage” in mimicry—its failure to fully replicate the original—creates a hybrid space where colonial power falters, and new identities emerge.Together, Irigaray’s mimesis and Bhabha’s mimicry illuminate Goan-ness as a dual act of resistance: a playful, excessive performance that exposes the fragility of colonial control and a generative process that births a unique cultural life.

Goan-ness does not merely reject Portuguese colonization; it engages with it, transforming its symbols and practices into something distinctly Goan.

Portuguese colonization of Goa, spanning over four centuries from 1510, sought to reshape the region through religious conversion, linguistic imposition, and cultural erasure. Yet, Goans did not passively accept this domination. Instead, they practiced a form of mimetic resistance, adopting elements of Portuguese culture—language, Catholicism, architecture—while infusing them with local meaning.

This was not assimilation but a subversive reappropriation, a way of saying, “We will take your tools and make them ours.”Goan-ness, as a cultural identity, embodies this resistance. It is not a static essence but a dynamic process of generating Goan life—through music, cuisine, language, and festivals—that thrives despite colonial attempts to suppress it.

For instance, Konkani, the heart of Goan identity, persisted despite Portuguese efforts to impose their language. Spoken, sung, performed and written in defiance, Konkani became a site of cultural survival, its rhythms and idioms carrying stories of resistance.

This mimetic strategy aligns with Irigaray’s vision of reclaiming voice. Just as Irigaray urges women to speak from their own bodies and desires, Goans used Konkani to articulate their world, refusing the silence imposed by colonial power.

Similarly, Bhabha’s mimicry is evident in how Goans adopted Catholicism, not as a wholesale surrender to Portuguese ideology but as a hybrid practice. Churches were built, but their aesthetics—flowers, lamps and other local motifs—echoed Goan traditions.

Religious festivals, like the feast of St. Francis Xavier, became inter- religious celebrations of Goan-ness, blending Catholic ritual with local exuberance.

Perhaps the most striking example of Goan-ness as decolonial mimesis is the transformation of St. Francis Xavier into Goycho Saib—Goa’s beloved patron. Xavier, a Jesuit missionary instrumental in Portuguese evangelization, might represents colonial power in its purest form: the imposition of a ‘foreign’ faith to “civilize” the native. Yet, Goans did not merely accept him as a Portuguese saint; they remade him into Goycho Saib, a figure of local devotion and identity.

This act of renaming and reimagining is quintessentially mimetic. In Irigaray’s terms, Goans perform an exaggerated devotion to Xavier, embracing the saintly figure offered by the circumstances of the time but on their own terms.

By calling him Goycho Saib, they shift his meaning, rooting him in Goan soil rather than Portuguese authority. The decennial Exposition of his relics, a major event drawing Goans from across the globe, is less about colonial Catholicism and more about a collective affirmation of Goan-ness.

The devotion is real, but it is not submissive—it is a celebration of a saint who belongs to Goa, not Portugal. Bhabha’s mimicry further clarifies this transformation. Goycho Saib is “almost the same, but not quite” as St. Francis Xavier.

The colonial saint is meant to symbolize Portuguese triumph, but in Goan hands, he becomes a site of ambivalence. His veneration disrupts the colonizer’s narrative: instead of erasing local identity, Goycho Saib strengthens it. Goans have transubstantiatized foreigner St Francis Xavier into Goycho Saib.

The hybridity of this figure—Catholic yet Goan, universal yet local—creates a “third space” where Goan-ness flourishes, neither fully colonial nor entirely precolonial, but something new and vital.

Goan-ness is not just resistance; it is creation of something new and original. By engaging with colonial forms through mimesis, Goans have generated a cultural life that is uniquely theirs. The mando, a melancholic yet defiant dance-song, weaves Portuguese melodies with Konkani lyrics, telling stories of love and loss that resonate with Goan experience.

Food, too, becomes a site of invention—vindaloo, born of Portuguese vinegar and Indian spices, is a culinary hybrid that speaks of adaptation and survival.This generative power aligns with Irigaray’s emphasis on life-affirming creation. For Irigaray, mimesis is not only about critique but about opening possibilities for new ways of existing.

Goan-ness does precisely this, crafting a cultural identity that celebrates plurality—Hindu, Catholic, Muslim, and more—without erasing difference. Bhabha’s third space echoes this, a zone of hybridity where fixed identities dissolve, and new meanings emerge.
Goan-ness thrives in this space, refusing the binary of colonizer versus colonized and instead embracing a fluid, living identity.

Goan-ness is a testament to the power of mimesis as resistance. Through Irigaray’s lens, we see how Goans strategically perform colonial forms to reclaim their voice and vitality.

Through Bhabha’s framework, we understand how their mimicry creates ambivalence, destabilizing Portuguese authority while forging a hybrid identity. From Konkani’s persistence to the reimagining of St. Francis Xavier as Goycho Saib, Goan-ness transforms the tools of colonization into instruments of decolonial life.

This is not a story of victimhood but of agency. Goan-ness generates Goan life—a vibrant tapestry of culture, faith, and resilience that continues to evolve. By embracing their history without being bound by it,

Goans show that decolonization is not just about breaking free but about creating something new, something unmistakably their own. In every song, every feast, every utterance of Goycho Saib, Goan-ness declares: we are here, we are alive, and we are Goans.