December 31, 2019January 2, 2020 6min readBy Nikitha Menon
[Photos Source: Screenshots / YouTube via Netflix, BBC America & CBS]
Close your eyes and transport yourself to 2009 – I’m talking moody “Twilight” posters, velvet tracksuits, Susan Boyle on “America’s Got Talent”, and those super short leather jackets. I’m also talking about the era of “Mad Men”, “24” and “How I Met Your Mother” (to name a few). Shows that we loved and devoured admittedly lacked a little color. Now look at 2019 – with the season two renewal of “Mira, Royal Detective” before the series has even premiered, the domination of the white, late-night space by Lilly Singh, to the worldwide casting calls for Mindy Kaling’s upcoming Netflix show “Never Have I Ever,” South Asian representation is seeping into every crevice of the industry in creative, exciting ways.
This year, we chose to focus on the talent that caused us to double-take, the characters that weren’t rooted in culture but simply motivated by it, and the roles that could have been played by anyone but were earned by prime South Asian talent. I like to call this list: Hold up, that major character is/was brown?
If you Google “Ritesh Rajan Russian Doll”, two articles pop up: 1) Who’s This Indian Origin Actor Everyone Is Currently Crushing On and 2) The “Russian Doll” Bodega Guy Is So Hot It’s Mind-blowing. Tesh, my boy, you’ve made it.
But in all seriousness, “Russian Doll” was objectively one of the best shows of 2019 and it’s certainly no small feat that Ritesh’s character Farran is instrumental in unraveling the complex world of this show.
2. Nik Dodani in “A-Typical” (Netflix)
You know that brown friend you have who speaks fluent “sexual euphemism” and is constantly bragging about his sex/relationship experiences even though no one’s actually seen the boy make money moves? Yeah, that’s Nik Dodani’s character Zahid, and we love him for the culture.
Two brown people say the word “wiener” in the pilot. What more do you want from life?
Named after their parents’ favorite American sitcom characters (I don’t think white people realize how real this is), Garret (Penn) and Mallory Modi (Deol) are constantly struggling with what it’s like to toggle with privilege, culture, and your environment in a way that’s not only relatable but light and digestible.
4. Rizwan Manji in “Perfect Harmony” (NBC), “Schitt’s Creek” (CBC/Pop), and “The Magicians” (SyFy)
From playing Reverend Jax, to jack-of-all-trades Ray Butani, to Tick Pickwick (what a name) the leader of the High Council, Rizwan Manji continues to push the boundaries for the types of recurring roles South Asians can play, independent of race and culture.
5. Punam Patel in “Special” (Netflix)
A body-positive, maddingly stylish, and glowingly confident, Punam’s character Kim is honestly who I want to be when I grow up (no but really). In a world where South Asian girls are still pegged as the goodie-goodie girls who spend their time studying because they weren’t lucky enough to be born as Aishwarya Rai, Kim is important in pushing that envelop. Clearly we’re not the only ones who think so, as Punam was nominated for an Emmy for the role! (And congrats on the season two pickup!)
5. Nikesh Patel in “Four Weddings and a Funeral” (Hulu)
[Photo Source: Screenshot / Hulu]
Nikesh plays Kash, a character that toggles between family, love, and life. What we love about Kash and his family is how universal their problems are – the Khan family truly feels like a British family and you don’t need to be Pakistani to empathize with their woes.
6. Siddharth Dhananjay in “Undone” (Amazon)
[Photo Source: Screenshot / Amazon]
Siddharth plays Sam, Alma’s “live-in boyfriend” (be honest, how brown do I sound when I use that phrase). His character has fantastic dialogue, moves the plot forward, and rocks a diamond stud in a way I never believed a non-f*ck boy could. Shabash beta.
7. Dhruv Uday Singh on “Good Trouble” (Freeform)
Dhruv plays Raj Patil a coder who struggles with how to fit in but stay true to himself/do the right thing. As someone who is constantly the butt of IT and math questions (y’all I studied political science in college I’m useless) it’s nice to see that Raj’s character doesn’t revolve around his career. He’s just a guy trying to survive his 20’s.
Rahul plays Dr. Ravi Chakrabarti and I’m honestly shocked that he’s the only doctor on this list (let’s face it guys, we’re lying to the world if we try eliminating all Indian doctors on TV). It’s no secret that South Asians don’t have a huge presence in the grounded genre space, so roles like this one are incredibly important in moving that needle forward.
One the biggest characters of seasons 8, 9, and 10, Avi Nash played Siddiq who indirectly caused the death of Carl Grimes. He’s unapologetically pious, loyal, and family oriented and in a world where people immediately associate Islam with radical violence, characters like Siddiq in worlds as expansive as “The Walking Dead” are important.
10. Summer Bishil & Arjun Gupta in “The Magicians” (SyFy)
Huge Shoutout to SyFy for having two series regulars of South Asian descent on the same damn show! Summer plays Margo Hanson, who is not only another South Asian dominating in sci-fi, but also continues to dismantle the notion that South Asian girls are boring and timid. Margo’s a party animal and she’s not afraid to tell it how it is – oh yeah, and she’s smart as hell.
Arjun Gupta‘s character, Penny Adiyodi, is snarky AF, stylish and for four years now, he has proven that South Asian men can be complicated, sexy, strange and totally engaging series leads. If you’ve been sleeping on this show, it’s time to catch up, folks, just for the South Asian representation alone!
11. Karen David in “Fear the Walking Dead” (AMC)
[Photo Source: Screenshot / YouTube & AMC]
Joining a cast after four seasons can’t be easy, but Karen David seamlessly integrated into the “FTWD” family with a complex arc, and provided an emotional support for Lennie James’ character, Morgan, in the fifth season. Bonus points: Her entry into the series was pretty badass.
Though it was (unfairly) cancelled after one season, the CBS drama “The Red Line” featured some of the most progressive characters and storylines on network TV. The series followed the aftermath of a mistaken shooting and killing of an unarmed African American doctor, Harrison, by a Caucasian officer.
Vinny Chhibber played Liam, a friend of Harrison’s husband, Daniel, and high school teacher to the couple’s adopted daughter, Jira. In just a few episodes, Chhibber made a lasting impression as both Daniel and Jira’s support system at school. It’s a shame the series didn’t last long enough to grow Liam’s storyline & possible romance with Daniel.
In this season’s revolutionary first female Doctor, Mandip Gill plays Yasmin “Yaz” Khan. A member of Team TARDIS Yaz’s investigative skills and general versatility helps the Doctor solve problems. She’s an incredible negotiator and has an encyclopedic knowledge of history, which we also love for the culture.
14. Geraldine Viswanathan & Karan Soni in “Miracle Workers” (TBS)
Yet another basic cable network show with two South Asian series leads. Who else is pleasantly (& extremely) surprised? Geralding Viswanathan & Karan Soni play Eliza & Sanjay, two angels who try and save the world from destruction by God (played by Steve Buscemi, seriously) along with low-level angel, Craig (played by Daniel Radcliffe). The series is a hilarious look at humanity through a fantastical, yet sweet lens, and both Viswanathan & Soni’s comedy chops really shine. What’s really interesting is that the series is an anthology, and all of the leads will return for Season 2 for a completely different story.
Also, shoutout to Viswanathan for killing it on the film side as well, with the release of Minhal Baig‘s “Hala.” Check it out now on Apple TV+.
We should be incredibly proud of the versatility of roles on this list, and it’s important to note these are only SOME of them. Slowly but surely, we are continuing to dismantle the notion that South Asian representation is exclusive to being as “ethnic” or “traditional” as possible.
We are showing the world that the existence of Lily Singh, Mindy Kaling, and Hasan Minhaj does not mean we are complacent – we’re just getting started, baby. Bring it on, 2020.
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.
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?
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 byRuchika 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.
February 2, 2023February 2, 2023 3min readBy Nimarta Narang
For any of us who have siblings, the relationship with them can be one of the most fulfilling ones. And also one of the most bloody frustrating. No one can quite stroke the fire like someone who knows you extremely well, or sometimes not, but have a familial bond with that neither one of you chose. In “Polite Society,“directed by Nida Manzoor, sisters Ria Khan and Lena Khan’s loving, sweet, and sometimes tumultuous relationship takes center stage.
Played delightfully by Priya Kansara and Ritu Arya, respectively, the evolution of their relationship is one of the film’s greatest and simultaneously weakest points. It’s also pretty cool to see two South Asian actresses in an action-comedy movie — how refreshing it is to mention the art of choreography and praise it in regards to fight sequences vs. dance sequences for a film centered on two South Asian women — that itself shows progress.
Set in London, Ria is an aspiring stunt woman who already shows massive talent in martial arts. She looks up to her older sister Lena, who is enrolled in art school and, also holds remarkable potential in a somewhat less traditionally acceptable field. Their relationship starts off as supportive and sweet with no inclinations of jealousy or resentment that sometimes plagues sisterly bonds. But this also means that they are quite protective of one another, almost to the detriment of their well wishes for each other.
This all happens when Lena gets engaged after dropping out of art school. Ria feels betrayed. They were supposed to be on this journey together in fighting for their dreams. Ria decides that she knows what’s best for her sister and enlists the help of her friends to rescue the damsel in distress from her own wedding. Her deep animosity towards the prospect of Lena getting married is also fueled by Lena’s fiancé and his mother acting extremely suspiciously. The twist that ultimately brings the two sisters back together is both shocking and weirdly somewhat progressive in the motive behind the villain’s origin story. But the twist, unfortunately, is too ambitious for the movie as it tacks on another genre and theme earnestly, but still clunkily.
“Polite Society” tackles not only what it means to fight for one’s dreams but also what it means to have just one ardent supporter. As Lady Gaga famously said, “There can be 100 people in a room and 99 of them don’t believe in you but all it takes is one and it just changes your whole life.” Well, Ria’s Bradley Cooper was her very own sister who seemed to abandon her, and her faith in her, when she chose a different path. For Lena, the film opened up the question of marriage and the weight it bears in the life of a South Asian woman. Ria’s lack of understanding of the pressure it places on Lena is the start of the change in their relationship — the start of Ria’s coming of age and the start of Lena settling firmly into her adulthood.
Director Nida Manzoor, cinematographer Ashley Connor and actor Priya Kansara on the set of their film “Polite Society.”
Standouts from the cast include Ria’s best friends, played by Seraphina Beh and Ella Bruccoleri, who commit to the story and characters with such hilarity and conviction. They add the lightheartedness and playfulness the film needs, and it is refreshing that never once do they use Ria’s cultural background as a way to make fun of her or dismiss her.
It is also heartening to see Lena and Ria’s parents being some of the most supportive South Asian parents seen on screen. At the end of the day, it is not the external family pressure that impacts the decisions made by the sisters but rather their own satisfaction, or lack thereof, with their own lives that become the driving force of their actions.
“Polite Society” is written and directed by a South Asian woman for South Asian women, and is definitely worth a watch when it releases in theaters this April.
Born and raised in Bangkok, Thailand, Nimarta grew up devouring Hindi movies, coming-of-age novels and one too many psychology textbooks. … 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.”
“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.
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.
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.
