[Featured Image Courtesy Of Apple TV+]

The new Apple TV series “Little Voice” is a heartwarming, special, and relatable journey for everyone following their dreams. Shalini Bathina plays Prisha, who is fearless, thoughtful, and has so much depth to her character.

Prisha is one of the first honest portrayals I’ve seen of a queer South Asian girl in her early 20’s. Her storyline as a South Asian woman chasing her dreams and constantly struggling between the inner fight of family/tradition or happiness is refreshing to see. I got to interview Shalini Bathina about her character.

Shalini, off the bat, you are one of the first positive female South Asian LGBTQ characters I’ve seen in so long. What is that like for you?

“It was a dream to play this complex and beautiful role that I have rarely seen as a South Asian actor. The writers created an honest, deep, funny, and talented character. I’m so grateful to be a part of a show that highlights the intersection of South Asian culture with identity through the lens of a character’s relationships in such an honest way. It makes for beautiful storytelling and I think that many people can relate to her! It may give a little insight for more conservative families, South Asian or not, on how difficult it can be for their loved ones who might be going through a similar experience.

We haven’t seen this kind of story told in mainstream television, especially as one of the lead characters. So I knew how unique it would be. I also understood the responsibility of playing one of the first fully fleshed out South Asian LGBTQ+ characters on television, so I made sure to lean on my directors, costars, and the writing for guidance. I hope this leads to more stories like this because we haven’t even scratched the surface of all the nuances of being South Asian and LGBTQ+. There are so many versions of this storyline and it’s important that we keep telling them!”

This is one of the rare shows where the majority of the cast is POC, what was that like?

“It was amazing. This is something that POC are so eager to see, especially artists. We’ve been pretty underrepresented, so to see shows making efforts to write and cast POC characters has been inspiring. Also, if we’re telling a story set in New York, we need to have a cast that represents the city. That means a diverse cast in every possible way. Each person had specific experiences coming from different backgrounds, as actors and as people. It was great to share that with each other, celebrate that we were all in this together, and be a part of this incredible journey. We knew how special this cast was and what it meant for representation. This change in the industry is just the beginning and we still have a long way to go!”

What was the audition process like for you?

“I sent in a self-tape for my audition in December 2018, then I put it in the back of my mind, because I had to fly to India and get married! I got the callback and producers session the week I got back to LA, and they were all done over Skype. Within that week, I was being flown to New York for the test audition. It was such a blur. I remember meeting Sara Bareilles and Jessie Nelson at the test, having to play the guitar in front of Sara and sweating profusely, then telling her that I loved her, and then running out of the room. At one point, they even asked me to dance. So I was pulling out all the cards! It was such a crazy experience and I loved every minute of it.”

You worked with Sara Bareilles; how exciting was that?

“It was beyond exciting. I’ve been a fan of Sara’s since high school, so meeting her was quite nerve-wracking. She is such an extraordinary artist: so effortless, experienced, and honest. Considering who she is and what she’s done her whole life, I was truly intimidated and in awe of her. But, she is an incredibly kind, wise, and warm human being, and you realize how comfortable she can make you feel after spending a little time with her. She’s the best.”

When did you start performing/acting? What did your parents think of it?

“I was always a very expressive and emotional kid and pretty much served as the entertainer of my family from the age of two. But, I would say my “formal” training started when I began learning Kuchipudi, an Indian classical dance form, at the age of 5. A prominent part of the dance form includes storytelling and acting, something I absolutely adored. So I was kind of hooked on playing characters and performing at a young age. When I joined theatre in 8th grade, it was a no-brainer. I very distinctly remember my first theatre class and even my first acting performance and thinking, oh my god, I love this and I don’t think I can ever go back. And here we are now.

With my parents, it was definitely a journey. They were pretty traditional, but they encouraged the arts at a young age because they both absolutely love it, whether it’s music, dance, films, etc. They wanted my siblings and me to have that in our lives, but obviously just as extracurriculars. Theatre and dance became such an integral part of my life and I began to imagine a world where I could study and pursue this as a career, especially after I got into USC for theatre. My parents understood that this path brought me immense joy and gave me a sense of purpose, so they were willing to let me try it with their full support, and possibly hoping that I would choose a few backup plans. There were many conversations, planting seeds, and reaching certain goals that convinced them that this could be a possibility. But they really put a lot of trust in me, my hard work and dedication, and each milestone assuaged them. Now, they are my literal number one fans. I honestly would not be here without their support.”

You’re also a mental health advocate. Can you tell me more about Dil to Dil?

“Yes! Mental health has always been important to me and I realized how much we don’t prioritize it in South Asian communities. It’s something I’ve been working on for myself the past few years and I wanted to see how I could be a part of a community that brings awareness to this topic. I found Dil to Dil this past year and I was very excited about the work they have done. They’re like Humans of New York except with the narrative of people of South Asian descent who want to share their mental health stories, have mental health conditions, or live with loved ones that have mental health conditions, through Instagram takeovers, lives and posts.

The goal is to create a community where we normalize talking about something that’s been so heavily stigmatized. They want to give a platform and provide a sense of community where people can be open and vulnerable, be heard, and have that unconditional support and love from us and people all over the world. This can be so incredibly healing for many of these amazing souls. Dil to Dil considers themselves a storytelling platform, not an advice-giving platform, but they do work with other mental health organizations so they can connect people with the necessary and appropriate resources. I work as a volunteer behind the scenes to be a guide and a source of support for those who are sharing because it can be a pretty vulnerable experience! It’s an absolutely wonderful organization and I’m so proud to be a part of it!”

[Read Related: In ‘Karma,’ Michelle Khare Finds Empowerment as a TV Host]

What advice do you have to young South Asian girls who want to be in the industry?

“I think everyone has their own path, but a couple of universal things I keep at the forefront of my mind. First, know exactly why you want to pursue this career and fight for that dream. You have to love it, so if you love something else more, do that instead. It’s a very unpredictable and difficult industry, to say the least, so having the determination and will to get through it in a healthy way is incredibly important. Second, you need a support system. Whether it’s family, friends, or peers, it’s so important to have your people around you, to champion you, push you, and support you. Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help! And third, train hard! Work on your craft, educate yourself, create your own material, be curious, and pay attention to the world around you because it’ll only make you a better actor and human!”

What are you doing to keep yourself busy during quarantine?

“It’s been up and down, but trying to keep a schedule, stick with a routine, and stay creative. I’ve been spending a lot of quality time with my husband, playing the guitar, watching movies, being excited/panicking about the show, and reading! I also just started working on my own productions with my dance partner, Shivani Thakkar, in collaboration with A Noise Within Theatre. One of the projects we’re working on is creating a dance theatre show merging Indian classical dance and western classical theatre, so I’m very excited about that!”

Catch Shalini Bathina in the first season of “Little Voice,” now streaming on Apple TV+. Crossing my fingers the show gets a second season!

By Sarah Khan

Sarah Khan is a writer, producer, and social media strategist. From writing personal essays to producing videos for BuzzFeed, Sarah … Read more ›

Over the past few weeks we’ve all seen Mindy Kaling shoulder the blame for misrepresenting the South Asian diaspora in her work. I want to expose us to the flip side. She’s not “Indian enough” for some in our communities and “not American enough” for mainstream television and media. But I don’t know a single South Asian living abroad who doesn’t feel this dissonance. We’re a generation born to parents who strived to stay connected to their homeland but knew they had to assimilate to survive. Many of us got lost in the mix. I definitely did. And from the looks of it, Kaling did too. 

I feel like I’ve oscillated between these two extremes all my life. I’ve had moments of code-switching — performing as a white version of myself, melting into the groups around me. And moments of being a “coconut” (or an “oreo” depending on where you come from) — suddenly donning an accent as if Hindi was my first language. It wasn’t conscious. It also wasn’t fully unconscious.  

It wasn’t until I watched Netflix’s “Never Have I Ever” as a 35-year-old mother of two that I realized what teenage Ambika was up against. Still wearing tank tops in secret, while girls my age had moved on to the midriff-baring trend of the early 2000s. Not thinking it was okay to explore my sexuality. Not seeing that sometimes I knew what was better for me than my parents did. Not understanding that it was okay to expand my romantic interests beyond the few Indian boys I knew. And then I rewatched “The Mindy Project” while on maternity leave with my second kid. And I ate it up.

I rewound dialogue as Dr. Lahiri got engaged, left a man who lost his drive, fell in love with the unexpectedly handsome curmudgeon, got pregnant, learned to mother, and found a new version of herself. She addressed her pregnant body insecurities on-screen (in “What to Expect When You’re Expanding — brilliant!). She grappled with her ambitions in the face of motherhood. She owned who she was when most of us were taught not to. She dated outside of her race. Her audacity and levity gave me so much oomph at a time when I needed it the most.

Art comes from lived experience. And when individuals reflect their life back to the masses through art, it’s a tenuous balance. Comedians in particular have to toe a fine line between hyperbole and reality, having the paradoxical job of speaking the truth (the dark truth, often), and simultaneously making people laugh.

Comedian Anjelah Johnson-Reyes, when interviewed on NPR’s “Code Switch,” says: 

Even though I didn’t speak Spanish — my parents don’t speak Spanish — early in my career when I would portray my parents in a bit, they would have an accent. They would speak in broken English. Any time I would talk about my mom, it was like, ‘ay, mija.’ My mom doesn’t call me ‘mija.’ My mom will leave me a voice message and be like, ‘hey, girl!’ She talks like me. You know what I mean?

This is the inherent paradox that exists in Velma as well. Kaling, as she often does, takes her own experiences as a young Indian girl growing up against the backdrop of white America, and amplifies them. And now, Kaling is a grown, Indian woman whose career is evolving against the backdrop of an America, too.

Critics across different racial groups frequently talk about “the representation trap.” Even if a minority group is represented in a piece of art, literature, film, or television, the manifestation of that group is still filtered through the white gaze. In Ismail Muhammed’s New York Times piece “Can Black Literature Escape the Representation Trap,” he says: 

Our current problem isn’t an insufficient amount of Black representation in literature but a surfeit of it. And in many cases that means simply another marketing opportunity, a way to sell familiar images of Blackness to as broad an audience as possible.

The debate about whether minority artists properly represent their cohort is marred with capitalism and white supremacy. When so many industries are gate-kept by the typical, euro-centric, generationally rich man, is there really any way to be wholly true to our experience? 

[Read Related: ‘Late Night’ Review: Mindy Kaling & Nisha Ganatra Hilariously Expose Diversity Issues in Hollywood & Comedy]

Let’s not forget that many of us (or maybe all of us?) came up in a society that devalues women, and horrifically devalues people of color. Let’s not forget that the majority of executives across every field still don’t look like us (if by chance you’ve forgotten, read this piece by Ruchika Tulshyan). Let’s not forget that when people are introduced to something foreign and unknown to them, their default is to reject it (again, if you’ve forgotten, read about “the mere exposure effect” and racism).

I’m unsure how Kaling has inherited the immense responsibility of representing all of the South Asian American diaspora? And is then being criticized for her representation of it. Third-generation South Asians are very different from second-generation, who are very different from first-generation. Our identities and how we fit into American culture, mainstream media, and business, are still forming as we speak. We are not a monolith.

And plenty of men have done exactly what Kaling is being criticized for, without anywhere near the same level of criticism. All men I (hopefully, we) love.

Riz Ahmed has taken on roles in which his race isn’t the central focus. Hasan Minaj doesn’t get criticized when he uses stereotypical accents to represent South Asians or for using politics as a launch pad for his content. We don’t hate on Kumail Nanjiani when he suddenly gets a six-pack, even though he also once played a nerd. I loved when Aziz Ansari went to Italy to make pasta and didn’t make it Indian.

Why are we tearing down one of the only women in America who is working to showcase South Asian culture and people? Because she uses humor and caricature? Because she’s not putting herself in the mindset of the type of Indian person who has learned to thrive at the intersection of their upbringing and their environment? Newsflash: that person doesn’t exist! 

It’s not on Kaling to represent every dimension of this diaspora. She’s done her job.

I’m a proud, second-generation, Indian American woman, married to an Indian American man, with two Indian American children. I was nerdy just like Kaling. I had arm hair just like Devi. I pined after white boys in my teen years just like Bela from the HBO Max’s “Sex Lives of College Girls,” too. And Kaling is an absolute inspiration to me. 

I see a South Asian woman who chose to have children on her own. Whose career, post-children, skyrocketed. Who committed herself and her craft to tackle the most deep-rooted stigmas of South Asian culture — mental health, sex, and interracial relationships — while still honoring the way it manifested in her life. 

It’s now our job to get out into the world and dimensionalize our cohort. Show the world what us supposed “ABCDs” have grown up and done; who we’ve become and what we’ve accomplished. 

It’s what I’m trying to do. It’s what I’m trying to fight for when I’m told things like “maybe tone down the diversity angle in your writing, we don’t want publishers to think they’re just buying a diversity book.”

We still exist in a house of cards. Why are we kicking the building blocks of our own home?

I’ll leave you with this quote from Kaling herself: 

People get scared when you try to do something, especially when it looks like you’re succeeding. People do not get scared when you’re failing. It calms them. But when you’re winning, it makes them feel like they’re losing or, worse yet, that maybe they should’ve tried to do something too, but now it’s too late. And since they didn’t, they want to stop you. You can’t let them.

I hope this woman never gets discouraged. We need her in more ways than one.

The opinions expressed by the writer of this piece, and those providing comments thereon (collectively, the “Writers”), are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any of its employees, directors, officers, affiliates, or assigns (collectively, “BGM”). BGM is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the Writers. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you have a complaint about this content, please email us at Staff@browngirlmagazine.com. This post is subject to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.

By Ambika Gautam Pai

Ambika Gautam Pai is the Chief Strategy Officer at full-service advertising agency Mekanism and a mom of two. She's a … Read more ›

As a South Indian American, I am aware of how non-brown Americans view the Indian film industry. One word: Bollywood. Bollywood and the South Indian film industry has always been lumped into the same category as Bollywood, despite the diversity. For Indians, South India is obviously different from North India, but non-brown people assume it would all be the same. This extends beyond Indian cinema; feeding into assumptions regarding other aspects of culture like language, food, and so on. People tend to assume all Indians speak Hindi or eat tikka masala at home rather than trying to understand the diversity of Indian culture. With time, especially with the help of social media, there was more accessibility to understanding the differences among these cultures, yet nothing truly spread across the globe. Then came “RRR.”

[Read Related: On the Road to the Oscars: M.M. Keeravani and Chandrabose’s ‘Naatu Naatu’ Redefines the World’s View of Indian Music]

“RRR” is a Telugu film from Tollywood. This South Indian film has become a worldwide sensation with its incredible visual effects, captivating plot, and catchy music. I was blown away by the reception this film got in the United States, especially from American film critics who were all praise. What impressed me the most was how more Americans clarified it was not a Bollywood film, and differentiated it as a Tollywood film. The number of people taking the time to learn the difference between Tollywood and Bollywood might seem simple, yet meaningful, nonetheless. South Indian films are incredibly underrated and are finally getting the attention they deserved. It is incredible to see the celebration surrounding the film and what it represents and means to this community and how we get to share it with the world. The hype was real, and then the awards season began.

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by RRR Movie (@rrrmovie)

The Golden Globes top the list of some of the major awards for television and film and it was amazing to hear that “RRR” had been nominated in two categories for this award. Funnily enough in my own world, it aired on my birthday. Then came the moment when Jenna Ortega said “Naatu Naatu, RRR” and the song played as M.M. Keeravani approached the stage to accept his award. This song became the first Asian, not only Indian, song to win the Golden Globe for Best Original Song. The 80th Golden Globes saw many wins for the Asian community with films like “Everything Everywhere All At Once” and “RRR.” There is something beautiful about being South Indian in America and watching a South Indian song win an award in America on one’s birthday. There is a joy in getting to tell my friends, both brown and non-brown, about it and share the song, “Naatu Naatu,” with them. Sure it is Indian, but it is just a bit closer to home, and that closeness stands with a beautiful meaning. When it came to the Critics’ Choice Awards, it was touching to hear about how S.S. Rajamouli grew up with the encouragement of creativity and storytelling. It honestly inspired me to continue my own projects; I hope to see them prosper as well. 

[Read Related: Sri Rao and the Future of South Asian Diasporic Cinema]

After the win at the Golden Globes, the Oscars became highly anticipated for the Indian community, especially when the nominations for Best Original Song were announced. Of course, when the familiar title appeared once again, a victory felt within grasp. “Naatu Naatu” had a couple of big moments at the Academy Awards ceremony: the performance and the win itself. The performance was introduced by the absolutely phenomenal actress, Deepika Padukone, who, too, is s South Indian. Her introduction of the song brought forward the context in which the tune takes place, that is during 1920 under the British colonization of India. She reminded all of us of how significant the song was along with its catchy beat. When it came to the announcement of who won Best Original Song, it was a first-of-its-kind victory given that it was the first time an Indian film won in this category. The speech made by M. M. Keeravani was beautiful as he sang to the tune of “Top of the World” with his own lyrics to take in the moment. It was certainly an extremely proud day to be Indian anywhere in the world, and especially to be a South Indian.

Seeing non-brown folks acknowledging the diversity of Indian culture has been beautiful to witness. The cultural pride of saying an Indian film, specifically a South Indian film, won the Oscar, a Golden Globe for Best Original Song and two Critics’ Choice Awards so far is an absolute joy. Seeing South Indian representation, especially during the awards season, is inspiring for brown creatives. This has been a time of great cultural pride in the South Indian community, and as a South Indian creative myself, I am honored to see it.

Photo Courtesy: Netflix

The opinions expressed by the writer of this piece, and those providing comments thereon (collectively, the “Writers”), are theirs alone and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Brown Girl Magazine, Inc., or any of its employees, directors, officers, affiliates, or assigns (collectively, “BGM”). BGM is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the Writers. It is not the intention of Brown Girl Magazine to malign any religion, ethnic group, club, organization, company, or individual. If you have a complaint about this content, please email us at Staff@browngirlmagazine.com. This post is subject to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy. If you’d like to submit a guest post, please follow the guidelines we’ve set forth here.

By S. Kavi

S. Kavi is a South Indian American writer, poet, and artist. Her work involves the exploration of South Indian culture, … Read more ›

Photo Courtesy of Varsha Panikar

“After so Long” is a poetry film created for Simha’s EP, which is streaming on Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon Music. The poem was collaboratively written by Simha, a U.S. native, and Jae, who is based in India, during the 2020 lockdown. “After so Long” was recited by Simha and their parents. In 2022, I directed and produced the film through my studio, Star Hopper. “After so Long” premiered on Nowness Asia in March 2022.

By Varsha Panikar

Varsha Panikar (they/he) is a filmmaker, writer and multi-disciplinary artist from India. They are the co-founder of Star Hopper, a … Read more ›