I vividly remember being 10 years old, excited to watch “The Simpsons” episode featuring Apu and Manjula’s wedding. At that point, it was one of the most popular shows on television, so I knew most people I knew would watch, and through it, maybe get a glimpse into some small aspect of my culture.
It didn’t matter that the episode was about a goofy cartoon’s clichéd arranged marriage, or that it had zero authenticity or connection to my family’s actual experience whatsoever. We got a whole episode focusing on the most widely recognized brown “person” in American pop culture. Apu was all we had, so I, along with every other Indian kid I knew, loved him.
But luckily, times have changed.
In “The Problem With Apu” comedian Hari Kondabolu sheds light on this problematic character and the implications of the lack of South Asian representation in American media.
Take a moment to think of how surreal it would be to never see someone who looks like you represented anywhere but in your own home or close community. Every advertisement, television show, movie, sports, music; everything you are bombarded with on a daily basis is making a point by way of exclusion. You are subtly being told that your culture, and effectively you, are not worthy to be reflected or included in the greater conversation. While contributing immensely to the fabric of this country, your people remain invisible.
Stemming from a piece he did while writing for the FX series “Totally Biased with W. Kamau Bell,” Kondabolu makes the case that having only one stereotypical character represent a group of a billion linguistically, ethnically and culturally diverse people is not only inaccurate, but also offensive and just plain lazy.
At the same time, he reiterates many times that this hatred for Apu is in conflict with his love for “The Simpsons” as a whole, a relatable feeling, I’m sure, for many South Asian watchers.
Hank Azaria, a white man with no discernable South Asian heritage, being the voice of said character for nearly 28 years, only makes matters worse. During Kondabolu’s discussion with Whoopie Goldberg, they examine the history of minstrelsy in America and question whether the character of Apu could be viewed through a similar lens.
Minstrel shows involved Caucasians putting on blackface, displaying exaggerated and negative stereotypes, singing and dancing, in order to mock and ridicule Black Americans purely for the amusement of other white people.
While Apu is nowhere near on the same level of offense given the historical context, it is disappointing to see to how the derision of minorities and perpetuation of stereotypes persists by being so heavily engrained into our culture.
One example of negative Indian stereotypes on screen included the 1968 movie “The Party”. In it, Peter Sellers depicts a bumbling Indian idiot who doesn’t know how to act like a human person, all in full-blown brownface makeup and an accent that sounds like no Indian person I’ve ever heard. It’s of little surprise that Azaria cites this very portrayal as an inspiration for Apu.
As a Hari Kondabolu stan, this documentary delivered everything I’ve been waiting for and then some. However, some of the backlash the film has received has been especially odd.
Most of the disapproving comments fall into three categories:
A.) The South Asian (or other minority) who says they’re okay with it so everyone else should “lighten up”. Because they speak on behalf of all of us, right?
B.) “They make fun of everyone! I’m Scottish (or insert any other stereotype on the Simpsons) and I don’t whine about Grounds Keeper Willie! And that’s the exact same thing as Apu because I don’t understand that White privilege is a thing!”
C.) Blatantly racist comments involving “curry” telling us “liberal dotheads” to shut up. Thereby negating the previous two categories while proving the importance and necessity of the film in the first place.
Simpson’s co-executive producer and writer Dana Gould comes to the defense of Azaria’s performance of Apu stating, “There are some accents, that to White Americans…are just funny. Period.”
Oh, that totally makes it better, my bad Dana.
If every minority accepted the status quo simply because a white man in power said it wasn’t a big deal, we would all still be colonized.
Azaria’s self-admittedly exaggerated, inauthentic and ultimately racist accent was the most widely recognized representation we had for a long time. The problem with this is essentially the problem with Apu. He is all that America saw of us therefore the majority of American’s, believed and still believes, Apu is all that we are.
Apu from “The Simpsons” [Photo Credit: Screenshot/Fox]On the grand scale of injustices, a problematic cartoon character definitely ranks somewhere near the bottom. That doesn’t mean the issue doesn’t deserve attention and rectification. What I find most offensive is that it’s just not funny, and has never been clever. Apu is tired and boring. Most of us, who grew up with the Simpsons, have long outgrown them. We aren’t 10 years old anymore.
If you want something better to watch, check out “The Problem With Apu” on TruTV. Also, we have actual brown folk with shows these days. Apu who?
Jisha Japagnanam was born and raised in PG County, MD. She is a Speech-Language Pathologist working in D.C., who enjoys bottomless brunch, trashy reality t.v., and smothering her niece, nephews and cat, Sissy Mama with love.
“Ghoomer,” R. Balki’s latest directorial venture, had its world premiere at the Indian Film Festival of Melbourne 2023 (IFFM), earlier this month, and the moment was nothing short of memorable. Lead actors Abhishek Bachchan, Saiyami Kher, and Angad Bedi, were present to unveil their labor of love to the world, and all three were left speechless at the reaction of the global audience; the film received a standing ovation on opening night, leaving the team extremely emotional — a feeling that Bachchan tells Brown Girl is one he cannot put into words.
“Ghoomer,” tells the story of Anina (played by Kher), an exceptional cricket player who loses her right hand in an accident. Downtrodden and with no will to live, Anina finds a mentor and coach in Padam Singh Sodhi (played by Bachchan), an insensitive and brash failed cricketer who helps her turn her life and career around; Anina also has the unwavering support of her husband, Jeet (played by Bedi). Sodhi teaches Anina unorthodox techniques to make her mark on the cricket ground once again. Enter, ghoomer, a new style of bowling.
Balki checks all the boxes with this feature — his protagonist is a female athlete, the film is his way of giving back to cricket (a new form of delivery), and he highlights the idea that nothing is impossible for paraplegic athletes. The heart of Balki’s film is in the right place — Kher mentions that the film is meant to be more of an inspirational movie and less of a sports-based movie. One can only imagine the impact that a film like this would have on an audience that’s hungry for meaningful cinema.
And, to chat more about “Ghoomer,” Brown Girl Magazine sat down with the stars of the show. Bachchan, Bedi, and Kher came together to talk about their inspiring characters, the filming journey, and how their film aspires to change the landscape of cricket and paraplegic athletes in the country. It was all that, with a side of samosas.
Take a look!
The featured image is courtesy of Sterling Global.
Few people can call themselves rocket scientists. Even fewer can say they are a rocket scientist-turned-actress, producer and Broadway star. Salma Qarnain is a Pakistani Muslim woman who can claim the title.
Salma Qarnain at the “Life of Pi” Broadway Debut | Photo Credit: Rebecca J Michelson
Artistry runs through Qarnain’s veins. Her grandfather was a filmmaker in Bombay and Karachi, before passing away at a young age. Her mother performed in plays throughout college. Now Qarnain is using artistry to build empathy, playing characters that represent her family’s story and promoting Black and Brown allyship through Black Man Films — the production company she co-founded with Roderick Lawrence.
Qarnain grew up in the Midwest but traveled back to Karachi often. Some of her earliest memories were in Karachi singing along to the Beatles and pretending to be Ringo Starr. When her family moved to the United States, typical of South Asian immigrant parental influence, her interest in math and science and immense love for Star Wars led her to pursue aerospace engineering, hence rocket science. Her mother’s passing forced her to rethink her goals and when she wanted to achieve them.
Today, she describes her purpose for creating art in profound terms.
I want people to be equal. I want people to understand we’re very much all together a speck of dust in the entire universe, and that there are so many more things we share than we don’t.
Starting entertainment work in the aftermath of 9/11 made it clear how she, a Pakistani Muslim woman, would be seen.
I remember [at] that time… Friends of mine told me, ‘Don’t let anybody know x, y, z about you, because they may have a bias against you. Something might happen.’
The beginning of her career was defined by how Western culture perceived Muslims and South Asians. Her first entertainment gig was as a casting assistant in Washington D.C. She noticed if South Asians were cast,
They were going to be playing something stereotypical to what a South Asian person is thought of… that could be the geeky, mainly male, math nerd, or a terrorist.
While the position provided an opportunity to learn about what it took to become an actress, Qarnain also leveraged her responsibilities to make a change — if a role didn’t absolutely require a white actress, she would gather diverse resumes for the casting director, slowly trying to shift the idea of what a person of color on television had to be.
With people of diverse experiences joining writer’s rooms and a “pipeline of young South Asian actors,” the industry has improved but isn’t close to equitable. She sees “Life of Pi” on Broadway and Black Man Films as ways to combat that.
Broadway’s adaptation of Yann Martel’s 2001 novel brings a multigenerational South Asian cast to the stage and has Qarnain playing two roles — Pi’s (gender-swapped) biology teacher, an analytical, guiding mentor, and the Muslim cleric Pi studies under. “Life of Pi” is one of Qarnain’s favorite novels for being a story about faith, storytelling and the power of both to provide hope. She took a callback for the role via Zoom in an Applebee’s parking lot.
I feel very invested in both of these characters. Just because they are absolute extensions of who I am as a person, and to have this be my Broadway debut — I couldn’t have asked for anything better.”
She got to play a Pakistani Muslim character once before in the off-Broadway play “Acquittal.” It was the first time she could represent an authentic story. In “Life of Pi,” Qarnain helped workshop the scenes with the cast and playwright Lolita Chakrabarti to make them more authentic.
She absolutely took our suggestions and comments and reactions, for myself, from another person in our cast – who’s also a Muslim – and then from castmates, [who are] Catholic and Hindu, to understand what would work and what would people respond to. That’s where the gift was, that [Chakrabarti] was very receptive to what we had to say.
Salma Qarnain at the “Life of Pi” Premiere | Photo Credit: Rebecca J Michelson
Black Man Films and her partnership with Roderick Lawrence run parallel to her theatrical journey. The pair formed the production company during the pandemic through a short film that Lawrence created to explore Black men’s mental health. As an enthusiastic fan of Lawrence’s work and having wanted to begin producing for film and television, Qarnain joined the project immediately. The short film, “Silent Partner,” went to 21 film festivals and won Best Short at several.
It was never done for accolades. It was done because there was a purpose and message to the story around Black men’s mental health told through the lens of micro-aggressions in the workplace.
The second short film, “Speak Up, Brotha!” was released in late March and will be played at Oscar-qualifying film festivals, this summer.
For Qarnain, Black Man Films is a platform for change and Black and Brown allyship.
I want people to look at our films and understand where they are, who they are in this film; in “Silent Partner.” If they’re complicit in propagating systemic racism, and, if so, what are they gonna do about it? How can they start? How can they talk to their parents? How can they, you know, engage with other South Asians and put a stop to colorism and any racism that exists against the black community?
Telling stories that reflect the experiences of people of color gives creatives the power to build systems that can improve people’s lives.
There is a racial hierarchy that exists and if we want to break that, we have to be a part of building everything, not just for us, but for everybody who isn’t white.
She is confident that the stories she’s helping bring to life will do just that and change the world in the process. From “Life of Pi” to “Speak Up, Brotha!” the possibilities for encouraging justice and empathy are endless.
“Don’t bully me with your kindness,” says Pi Patel (Hiran Abeysekera) to Lulu Chen (Kirstin Louie), from the Canadian embassy who is visiting Pi in his hospital room in Mexico. Pi was the sole survivor of a cargo ship traveling from Pondicherry, India, en route to Canada. His family and the animals from his zoo from back home all passed away, and Pi turned up after being stranded for 227 days at sea.
In this scene from the “Life of Pi,” that recently won in three categories at the Tony Awards, Pi’s sanity is being questioned as his account of what transpired at sea is too…fantastical. His vivid imagination and inspired attention to detail seem like a story a child would share. The character Lulu, from the embassy, is trying to gently nudge him into telling her the more ‘truthful’ account of what happened —one that doesn’t include a carnivorous tiger, a cannibalistic island, and a horrific Frenchman. Pi finally tells her to stop patronizing him. To stop bullying him with her perceived kindness. To actually listen to what he is saying.
On Sunday June 13, the “Life of Pi” won three @thetonyawards in Best Scenic Design in a Play, Best Sound Design of a Play, and Best Lighting Design in a Play.
It is this one line from the show that has become one of the most surprising and thoughtful lines I have encountered in all the art I have consumed in 2023 thus far. In fact, surprising and thoughtful are words that I would use to describe the overall musical itself. Directed by Max Webster, and adapted by the playwright Lolita Chakrabarti from Yann Martel’s Booker Prize-winning novel, “Life of Pi” is so enchanting, charming, and fantastical that with every beat of the show, I would hear gasps emanating from the crowd. The 24 cast members, many of whom were puppeteers, brought the different animals to life as we switched between the two timelines of Pi recounting his life at sea, in the hospital room, and Pi living out his life at sea.
Dreamlike to the audience and a nightmare to Pi, the scenes depicting his challenging, lonely, and magical time at sea beautifully depicted the magical realism of the novel. The choreography of the different cast members puppeteering the animals added a sense of whimsy and movement that lent itself to Pi’s childlike imagination. The lighting, the sound, the set, and the actors all came together to create a musical that is like almost being in a drug-induced trip — the set moves seamlessly from the hospital room to the boat, and back to the hospital room, and then the boat; sometimes both at the same time. You can feel the waves when Pi is on the water and see the little fish moving about. It’s as though you are with Pi throughout his journey — you feel scared when he is attacked, you feel inspired when he is in bliss, and you feel pain when he longs for his family.
Directed by Max Webster and adapted by the playwright Lolita Chakrabarti from Yann Martel’s Booker Prize-winning novel, “Life of Pi” has received rave reviews throughout its run in New York City.
The biggest marvel, though, is Richard Parker. The puppeteering behind this character is excellent — he is at once menacing, vulnerable, scared, and strong. The transformation of Parker is such that he starts out as such a grand animal and when we see him finally arrive on the island, he looks so frail and thin. You root for him as much as you root for Pi. And Pi himself is the heart of the musical. Abeysekera imbues Pi with so much confidence, playfulness, wit, and fear, that it makes you believe his stories and his relationship with the relentless tiger.
When Pi tells Lulu to not bully him with her kindness, he is telling her to not shatter his perception of the world he has lived; either it be real or constructed. Pi eventually shares with Lulu and Mr. Okamoto (Daisuke Tsuji), a representative from the Japanese Ministry of Transport, a version of events that is devoid of animals but one that is darker as it depicts human beings in their primal, selfish states. He then asks them, “Which story is better?” Lulu and Mr. Okamoto are speechless, as is the audience. In the end, it’s not about the story they believe but the one he believes. For the one he believes is the one he lived. And no one can bully him into thinking otherwise.
Born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand, Nimarta grew up devouring Hindi movies, coming-of-age novels and one too many psychology textbooks. … Read more ›
Jisha Japagnanam was born and raised in PG County, MD. She is a Speech-Language Pathologist working in D.C., who enjoys bottomless brunch, trashy reality t.v., and smothering her niece, nephews and cat, Sissy Mama with love.
