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Black Mirror’s Demon 79 and the Justification of Brown Feminine Rage (warning: spoilers)

What if intrusive thoughts can be valid, and it is okay, maybe even necessary to act on them sometimes? If violence isn’t the answer, why must it so often be the question? 

Set in Northern England, 1979,  “Demon 79″ is the final episode of Black Mirror’s sixth season. It follows Nida, a meek sales assistant with a mousy appearance, who is tasked with the most complicated and important mission: to save the world by taking the lives of three human sacrifices in the days leading up to May Day.

Champions of the extended metaphor, Black Mirror employ the talents of Anjana Vasan (an Indian-born, Singaporean-raised, and U.K.-based actress) who plays Nida Huq and Paapa Essiedu (an English actor of Ghanaian descent) who plays Gaap*, the demon Nida accidentally invokes upon finding a talisman that begins this stressful mission of her. Gaap, devilishly handsome and charming, trying to earn his “wings” and be initiated into demonhood reassures the panicking Nida that she is not going mad, she is not a bad person, and the people she is encouraged to kill are vetted through his soul-reading as deserving of death.

*Gaap is considered through stories of demonology and texts related to the Testament of Solomon to be the Prince of Hell, with angels as siblings and a penchant for manipulating women and rendering them infertile. 

Gaap adjusts his form to something more comfortable for Nida by changing into a look-a-like of Bobby Farrell from the famous disco-funk German-Caribbean vocal group known as Boney M. Having the representation of a demonic entity be a Black man while allowing him to manifest into a symbol of appeal for Nida turns the inherent vilification of Black men on its head without contributing to the hypersexualization of Black bodies. Gaap is never presented as a love interest for her, but viewers do get to see them develop a snarky back-and-forth. I almost never see Black and brown leads banter like this. 

Another reason I’m glad Gaap was not portrayed as a sinful symbol of sexual desire is because Indian women already have to navigate a shame-fueled purity culture, and I wouldn’t want to see her grapple with her feelings for someone who is not only outside of her race and religion, but isn’t human. Writers avoided the idea that to love Gaap was to love something forbidden in all possible ways. And we don’t need to see Black folks depicted as not-human. The history of both American cinema and politics has acted on that dangerous perception already. 

When I saw the opening scene of Nida with her wide eyes waking up to get ready for work, I recognized the doe-like innocence in her face as the one I have been raised to emulate. She looks so much like my mother 30 years ago. Minimal makeup, modest clothes, hair neat and tied back.

Moments of Nida’s inner demons being unleashed start off as fantasies she has. She is quietly scurrying through her life as an oppressed minority in 1970′s England, where xenophobia and racism showed up everywhere, from the actions of the British Nationalists to the microaggressions Nida faces at work for simply bringing her potent biryanis to the stock room and “stinking up the place”.

Indian women are some of the least visible in politics historically and presently because we are raised to not make a fuss of things, to be quiet and reserved and let white people act how they want towards us because we are guests in their countries, even when they’ve colonized and pillaged our own. I feel Nida’s pain as she thanks the white people around her for the bare minimum (allowing her an alternative place to eat, such as the basement - where she finds the talisman that changes her life) and avoids the confrontation and rage within her, even sighing in defeat at the NF* tag that has been spray-painted on her front door. 

*NF stands for the National Front, a far-right, fascist political party in the United Kingdom, founded in 1967. 

I crave catharsis for Nida. And for her late mother, whom she has a photo of in her apartment. She explains after the first sacrifice that her mother was perceived as crazy, and now Nida is afraid that people will think the same of her, and this time, because of what she’s done, it will be true. I wondered if Nida’s mom was called crazy because she had stood up for herself, reported abuse or harassment that was occurring within the Indian community itself or in her own home, or tried to leave Nida’s father. None of these scenarios would make the show seem like fiction at all, at least not for many of the South Asian women trapped by the chains of patriarchal ideals. 

There are moments where I am concerned Nida is enamored by Michael Smart, a white politician giving a campaign speech outside the store she works at, as if his mere acknowledgment of her existence without visible disgust is enough to make her heart flutter. Again, I enjoy seeing a Black and brown lead in this episode, and knowing that other viewers are getting to see the many instances of white culture that exposes the racist ignorance and unfair power structures that exist in western society, workplaces, and even the homes of white folks themselves. (I was so happy for little Laura to hear of what was done to her assailant).

When it comes to stopping the world from absolute destruction in a nuclear holocaust, the heroes have never really been people who look like Nida. (It is worth noting that the head writer for this episode was Bisha K. Ali, who also is the executive writer for Disney+’s Ms. Marvel and has tackled many of the same representation issues in her work). People like her don’t have the permission to be loud, angry, or violent without consequences, no matter how justified. Meanwhile, with unchecked authority, bombs go off and innocent people die and children cower in their beds and white men get to act on their worst traits and impulses, however sinful, with little to no accountability.

Even when Nida is being violent, it is for the greater good. Because it has to be. Even female rage has to serve a purpose for others. It cannot just be hers. If she’s going to be angry, she better be trying to solve crime or save the world. 

And through this most guttural and sometimes poisonous part of being a human, Gaap sees her. Maybe it’s because he has transformed in the image of Nida’s celebrity crush or maybe it’s truly the way in which he interacts with her, Gaap sees Nida. He recognizes the type of violence she would and would not indulge in. He tells her she should feel more at ease after killing the first sacrifice, a pedophile she clobbers with a brick before he falls into a river. He continuously recognizes her hesitation, and suggests “Dutch courage”, or booze before following through with the second kill. It is inappropriate in Indian culture for women to drink, which Nida notes when she tells Gaap she doesn’t. Then he asks her if she wants to, something, from the expression on Nida’s face, it doesn’t seem like she has ever been asked. 

Upon entering a pub full of (yes, all white) men, Nida is dismissed by the (also white) female bartender who looks just as irritated by her existence as her coworker Vicky, who had reported how unfair it was that she had to smell Nida’s lunches and endure the lingering scent at work. An older (also white) bartender (who might be the owner) takes her order with the same polite and quiet discomfort of her boss, who had presented her with the basement lunch “solution” to appease Vicky. It’s subtle but the approaches in which different age groups and genders of white English folk take with engaging with Nida demonstrate the variety of ways in which people of colour experience discrimination. At its worst, it is violent hate crimes and unjust legislation that mutates into full blown genocide. At its mildest, it’s passive aggression and strained tolerance. 

It’s more apparent with the second killing (of a man named Keith who killed his wife) that Nida does have the option to be as righteous as she wants to be, which is something I really appreciated about her character. Even if she was killing to prevent the literal apocalypse, and the clock was 6 minutes from midnight -- she must follow the cadence of at least one kill a day -- the moment she has to hear Keith’s justification for what he did and his attempt at absolving himself with the statement “I’m not a bad husband, but --” she swings a hammer at his head to shut him up. She then bashes his head in repeatedly, even to the point where Gaap is wincing at the sight. If this was just about killing people to stop a bigger disaster and loss of life, she wouldn’t be losing herself in the act like she did. 

The third and final kill occurred in the next few minutes, as Keith’s roommate, witnesses her trying to exit, which presents itself as problem in allowing her to continue with the mission if she’s arrested. It’s messy because it was fast, the least premeditated, and she doesn’t know who the man is or if he’d done anything as bad as the previous two skills. Because of this, she’s much more apologetic as the man dies, later finding out from Gaap he was Keith’s brother, Chris, an “ordinary” person who would not have been one of Nida’s choices. 

But as Gaap says, “What’s done is done”. And the three lines on the talisman should have disappeared indicating that Nida has fulfilled her duty. But it still has a line remaining, so a confused Gaap dials 666 (of course) on Nida’s rotary phone to explain the issue to his superiors. He tells Nida that Keith apparently didn’t count because he’s a murderer and anyone who’s been directly responsible for the death of another human being (not counting future deaths they might be responsible for) is off limits. Chris counted because his death still occurred just before midnight. 

Nida doesn’t snap psychologically and decide she enjoys this and is going to become a serial killer, which is a direction I find common in other Black Mirror episodes, where the white and/or male character loses it and/or goes on a killing spree. She grapples once more with her initial unwillingness to participate in this because even when given the go-ahead and to have the most reason to, she enters a mental boxing ring with her instinct v. culture v. morals. From my own experience and what I have seen in my own community, outward expression of rage is never the first emotion a woman reaches for...because she can’t always afford to in the way others can. 

“My whole life, I never wished harm on anyone.” 

Gaap tells her what’s at risk for him, and he describes a fate of punishment that she says sounds like her life now. She stands, empathizing with an actual demon, and deciding to continue with the mission. Gaap also reminds her this isn’t solely for him; she possessed a darkness within her that drew her to the talisman. So, he asks her, who pissed her off?

To Possette’s Shoes they go. 

Vicky, a prime choice for the grand finale, delegates the task of attending to the young girl Laura (from earlier) and her mother to Nida. Because the little girl creeps Vicky out. Gaap informs Nida that because she killed Laura’s dad, Laura doesn’t kill herself at 28 and instead goes to therapy, becomes a mother at 29, and a grandmother at 57. It’s a comforting thought amidst the mayhem of it all. 

Michael Smart makes an appearance once more, as his father and the boss’s father, are old college friends, and Nida’s boss had promised him a suit and shoes on the house. The boss unsurprisingly selects Vicky as the sales attendant, with Gaap grumbling to himself as Nida’s eyes go from ‘excited crush’ to just crushed. Her boss then chooses to notice the boxes on the floor from when Vicky could’ve been cleaning up and hisses at Nida, “Could you pick up the bloody mess?” This prompts Gaap to suggest the boss be the next to go. 

Nida moves on to cleaning up the boxes, eavesdropping on the conversation between Michael and Vicky. When Michael says he hopes he has her vote, she says she is siding with the National Front who she believes will help rid the town of all the pesky foreigners. And then Michael Smart reveals himself to be what a lot of politicians are: covert bigots. He explains to Vicky that an explicitly xenophobic campaign would be too polarizing, so you have to elect a moderate who can win over the masses and put the evil plans in motion. (Sound familiar?) 

There is a subliminal language spoken among white supremacists, even if they smile politely at people who look like me and Nida. And this revelation that she witnesses presents an even more justifiable option for Nida’s third kill. 

She asks Gaap to give her information about Michael’s future, which he hesitantly reveals to her. Michael Smart wins the election, eventually becomes prime minister, and leads a new world order built on white supremacy. Nida decides he is the final target, but Gaap tells her he wouldn’t be the right choice because the Satanic world he comes from is a fan of his work and everyone there would want Michael to be able to facilitate the upcoming deaths that occur as a result of him first winning the election to become a member of Parliament. 

But Nida is set on him, or no one, giving Gaap the ultimatum to get on board or risk his own banishment after failing his initiation. 

Meanwhile, a police investigation occurs which leads to the bar staff identifying Nida as a “muttering Indian woman” who was at the bar the night Keith died. Len Fisher of Tipley Police arrives at Nida’s apartment, as part of routine questioning, and she invites him in, with Gaap’s suggestion to kill him. 

Fisher is the first white person to speak to her as person, too, even though he’s there on the premise of Nida being a potential suspect. Maybe this is more covert trust-building behaviour, maybe as a cop, maybe as someone generally suspicious of people of colour. He is the most mild-mannered, middle-man in the whole story. 

Fisher follows Nida who follows Smart after his speech at town hall. This is where I’m a little surprised but not displeased. The other episodes end with something sad, violent, and/or redemptive. Nida gets a bit of everything, but as with all things Black Mirror, not in the way you’d expect. In society, Nida may be reduced to a mad woman telling an insensible story, enduring the same perception people had of her mother. But society doesn’t last long, and she walks off into a kind of nuclear, fiery sunset with a new friend. 

The deadline for the sacrifices had been May Day, also known as Workers’ Day or International Workers’ Day to commemorate the struggles and gains made by workers and the labour movement. Nida, representing intersectional identities of the working class (immigrants, women, people of colour), was not listened to or believed, and the world ended because of it. Her weapon of choice had been a hammer, a tool meant for building that was used for destructive but necessary purposes. This could be a reference to the Communist party’s symbol of a hammer and sickle, which represents proletarian solidarity. The meaning of the episode, particularly its ending, captures the significance of the working class and how our world relies on them to function and last. When their efforts are stunted, their sacrifices are in vain, or they are not heard, the world ends. 

#black mirror #demon 79 #tv series review #black mirror season 6 #paapa essiedu #digital illustration #fanart #commissions open #anjana vasan

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Never Have I Ever Season 3 is a hot mess (warning: spoilers)

After watching the third and final (?) season of Netflix’s Never Have I Ever, I am convinced that the writer’s room was arguing about which feedback to take in based on reception of the previous two seasons. I imagine people wanted to toss out and throw in as much as possible, with little consideration for the fact that there are only going to be 10 episodes that are 30 minutes long. You can’t introduce complicated conflicts and rely on time lapses to convey the passage of time and processing of change. It felt like a lazy, rushed group project.

Even though I understand that you can’t please everyone with your art/productions and even though I recognize important changes being attempted, season 3 fell flat and jumped the shark a handful of times. I almost wish it got a season 4 just to redeem itself and follow Devi Vishwakumar’s senior year. But I gave it two additional chances already to redeem itself from the stereotype-laden first season.

The show continues to center on Devi’s desire to lose her virginity before entering college, and now that she has snagged the boyfriend of her dreams, she faces the anxiety of actually engaging in sex. This was portrayed as authentically as it could be because the first time can be a nerve-wracking experience, especially when it feels like an expectation to sustain someone’s interest. When Devi sabotages her relationship via her own insecurity about her worthiness to be Paxton’s girlfriend, she shows how prolonged skepticism about what he sees in her, ultimately ruins her relationship. She gets in her own head and doesn’t trust that you can be loved for who you are. Even when she pushes her boyfriend to be ambitious, responsible, and accountable, she gets in her own way by not enjoying the best of what her relationship has to offer with Paxton repeatedly having to reassure her that he does find her attractive and they don’t owe anybody explanations for their relationship. But the power of unaddressed low self-esteem brought on by bullying, gossip, and internalized racism can fog up anyone else’s attempts at clarity, as we come to see. I was a bit annoyed, though, with Devi’s eventual post-break up acceptance of going back to being a “nerdy Indian virgin”. I can’t believe the writers chose to insert that into another season.

Satellite narratives were also messy and not given enough screen time or development.

There was so much more opportunity to explore the nuances of Manish and Kamala’s relationship, especially with Manish being less connected to Indian culture, which bothers Kamala’s grandmother as she perceives him and his family as people who gave up on thousands of years of generational culture. This is a real point of contention in Indian families. Arranged marriages to someone who will carry on the culture generations were raised on is a major stressor for a lot of contemporary desi women. Manish is just as Indian as someone who doesn’t speak one of the country’s dialects or practices all of the traditions.

Male characters being emotionally vulnerable and sharing when they feel insecure was great to see, and so underplayed considering they salvaged their own relationships with healthy communication!

Des was introduced as a hot Indian guy who thankfully called out Devi’s preconceived notion that he was going to be a socially awkward loser and he didn’t have time for another one of those Indian girls who “only likes white guys, and thinks all Indian guys are computer geeks or cheesy club rats who wear too much cologne”. (She denies it, even though it’s true, and this is one of the few moments I seriously connected with Devi because I’ve had this exact interaction with a Indian guy who called me out for having a white boyfriend.) As a teenager, I remember thinking the best thing I could do for my assimilation and acceptance was to have a white boyfriend and have sex. Even though this proved untrue, South Asian girls aren’t perceived in media as attractive or desirable or head-turning popular kids. So your association with those who are, when you are an insecure, misunderstood adolescent, feels like a solution.

Des and Devi’s relationship could have been an example of young, healthy, successful brown love, but they don’t make it. And I’ll give it to the show -- the reason why is pretty representative: the boyfriend doesn’t stand up to his mother’s judgments of his girlfriend. (This happens a lot with the mama’s boys of desi culture.)

Speaking of Des’s mom, Rhyah, I was so certain that the way she was inserting herself into Nalini’s life and asking her about her Valentine’s Day plans was because there was going to be a lesbian romance explored between the two moms! Why couldn’t the shock of finding out your moms are queer/dating be what made Des and Devi decenter each other as love interests?

I also appreciated the seamless introduction of a nonbinary/gender-fluid character (who is never really stated explicitly as such, which is great because it can be so cringey and contrived when that becomes a chunky plot point). They just slow-mo walk into the room with Des and his friend, Parker, and immediately catch the eye of Fabiola, who has just entered a new relationship with Aneesa who surprise-kissed her in the bathroom after a soccer game that her boyfriend at the time (Ben) wasn’t even paying attention to because he was wrapped up in Devi shenanigans again. Yeah. There are major relationship shifts happening in the span of individual episodes, with little room to explore the characters’ development of their own identities in relation to themselves and each other.

Devi gets into a prestigious boarding school towards the end of the season and spends time going back and forth between her decision to attend, which involves considering the factors of leaving her mom (after losing her dad and knowing life is short and unpredictable), leaving her friends (right before senior year), leaving her enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends relationship with Ben, and risking entering college as a “virgin-loser”, which remains a pretty big conflict for her despite everything else that has happened in the past two years/three seasons. Paxton somehow graduates, makes a heartfelt speech, including a thank you to Devi, and they seem to have found closure. Again, this is so rushed. You end up at the last day of school with no context other than the John McEnroe narration telling you so. And people are just dropping confessions and truth-bombs and alluding to other possibilities, in the last episode of a show that is supposedly ending.

The show concludes with something both anticlimactic and probably exactly what a lot of viewers wanted. The priorities revolving senior year and sex that are consuming Devi’s young life end up sorting themselves out, even if done in a frantic fashion.

I don’t know how official it is that Never Have I Ever isn’t getting a fourth season, but if they are, there is room to clean up storylines and answer a lot of questions that just weren’t given satisfying answers with this finale:

Does the back and forth between Devi and Ben finally come to a halt?

Does Trent (the character carrying the comedic part of this sitcom) become a more central character as he repeats senior year while Paxton goes off to college?

Were Aneesa’s compatibility results with the “random freshman” even true, and do we get to see her navigate her protective mom, strict Muslim/South Asian upbringing, comparatively lower level of excitement/enthusiasm to work rigorously to get into an Ivy League college, eating disorder (that came up in season 2 and was never brought up in season 3), and newly discovered queerness? She had so much to her character that was just given a blip in random episodes.

You can’t just introduce a new South Asian character every season, throw some love triangles here and there, and think you’ve had a successful run. Season 3 felt like a rough draft to me, and I wanted to believe that each season was trying to improve on itself and take in critiques or reconsiderations, which is why I kept watching.

I don’t pick apart shows that are largely marketed for their South Asian representation for any other reason than wanting stories to be representative, celebratory, and layered with nuance that is intentionally crafted and explored. If anything, I also develop the ability to push my own review writing and ideas for my creative South Asian centered work. Sometimes, I even imagine myself in the room with these producers and writers, framing my feedback for the benefit of everyone - the success of the show, the enjoyment of the audience, the impact of the story, and the experience of the team involved. I might be sounding over-ambitious to anyone who thinks I don’t have the credentials to be sat in that kind of room. But because productions like this matter to me, because I’ve studied this field, and created my own work that just doesn’t have an agent or money or all of my time backing it right now, of course I will channel the energy/time I do have into the hobby of review-writing and hoping posts like this stumble across someone who is changed, informed, and motivated by it. Will that person be a studio exec? I don’t know. I’m not writing off the possibility, though.

The final of Never Have I Ever just seemed like since maybe the creators knew this was the last season, they simply shrugged and threw something together because they started to care less about something that didn’t have a chance at getting picked up for another season anyways. And I would’ve liked for it to have been created and treated with the excitement and intention of a revolutionary pilot every single time. I think that’s the energy that needs to be behind projects that are doing cool things for the first time, like putting a young South Asian lead at the heart and center of a show with a huge, impressionable audience.

Edit/Disclaimer: I wrote this before reading an article about Mindy Kaling announcing Never Have I Ever had been renewed for a fourth and final season, stating one of the reasons was “the actors get older and it starts looking insane that a 34 is playing a 15 year old”, which by the way, was always insane. It was insane that a 30 year old was playing a 16 year old alongside a 19 year old actress playing a 15 year old. I can’t. 

#never have i ever #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #maitreyi ramakrishnan #never have i ever season 3 #netflix

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Ms. Marvel is more a marvel than a miss (warning: spoilers)

When it comes to a lot of the media I review, I’m going to obviously “age out” of many of the shows involving South Asian girls and women, which really only begs the question of why in general, so many narratives stick to underage, over-sexualized characters, who at their oldest, are high school seniors often played by people older than me, a 27-year-old high school teacher. Because so far, I’ve only written (both positively and critically) about sexually repressed high school nerds, and Kate Sharma from Bridgerton Season 2. 

I have to mostly rave, however, about Ms. Marvel (2022), a Disney+ mini-series, spotlighting newcomer Iman Vellani, a 19-year-old Pakistani-Canadian actress, playing Kamala Khan, a 16-year-old Pakistani-American Muslim girl growing up in Jersey City, New Jersey. 

There is so much that Ms. Marvel does right, starting with having diverse writers, directors, and showrunners of a South Asian, West Asian, Arab and/or Muslim background inform the narrative and dialogue responsibly, respectfully, and even comedically. They have successfully woven culture, language, and history that is either deeply misunderstood, polluted with misinformation, or straight up erased from mainstream American media and public education textbooks into this production. 

Phrases in Urdu that I recognized, specific quirks of over-protective immigrant parents and elders, Hindi and Punjabi songs at the opening and closing of an episode, the generational trauma of the 1947 Partition of India, the double life that Kamala must juggle (well before even discovering her cosmic powers) were never things I expected to see in a Marvel production. And they are not included in passing; they are very much a part of the show. 

Growing up as a Marvel fan, I didn’t consider the impact of only seeing white men, who were either lovably lanky nerds or hunky grizzled tough guys, as superheroes until I myself couldn’t write, consider, or find myself to be as interested in anything else. 

Why didn’t we explore Storm as much as we explored Logan/Wolverine? How come so many people got to be Spiderman and we barely develop Rogue or Elektra who I only vaguely remember from my childhood?

By the time I was in my early 20’s, people (mostly incels online) were complaining about “the feminists ruining comic book movies” as if these characters didn’t exist and have their own plotlines prior to joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe. 

And for the record, the in-depth stories of Natasha Romanoff/Black Widow, Gamora, Captain Marvel, Wanda Maximoff/the Scarlet Witch, Jessica Jones, and Jean Grey/Dark Phoenix only came recently. I’m talking 2015 onwards. I heard so many criticisms about how movies and shows were “trying too hard” and “pushing diversity”, when Ms. Marvel is the only production with a woman of colour in the lead. She’s not a side character, and this is no spin-off. This is the introduction of a role that will be reprised in the Marvels movie set to release in 2023. It’s a big deal. 

Kamala is a real reflection of so many kids as a fully-fleshed out, multidimensional (no pun intended) child of immigrants growing up in a community I have seen and been a part of. She is challenging tradition, she is curious, she is stressed out. She negotiates and compromises and loses to the challenges of having multiple identities.

 Her older brother lives at home until he gets married and the experiences of men and women in the community are depicted in highlighting double standards, without vilifying Muslim men. This is tricky to balance because while misogyny and patriarchal double standards are a serious obstacle in the culture, creators have to be intentional about not perpetuating harmful stereotypes that Muslim or brown men are inherently sinister and cruel, particularly towards women. This is something Marvel has notoriously done with the entire Iron Man franchise that was rooted in Islamaphobia and burned the “middle eastern terrorist” image into the minds of audiences everywhere. Islam is shown in practice accurately, with the mosque as a frequent setting for many scenes, and with the antagonistic forces of the U.S. government depicted in their discriminatory abuse of power. At one point, the sheikh has to correct a government agent who disrespectfully walks into the mosque without a warrant and with her shoes on and tells him she’s not interested in listening to his quranic quotes by clarifying, “Actually, that was Abraham Lincoln.” 

Kamala’s personal experiences of having members of the Pakistani/mosque community keeping tabs on her, several people in her family policing her attire and social life, the conflict of reconciling her past (particularly the complex one of Pakistan’s violent inception) with her present as an American teen with a crush, secrets, and super powers – it is difficult to put into the words the significance of seeing this validated and valued enough to be told as a story to millions on a platform, associated with names like Disney and Marvel. 

When Kamala confides to her formulaically written tech-wiz sidekick/best friend Bruno (the Ned Leeds to her Peter Parker, I suppose) that “it’s not really the brown girls from Jersey City who save the world”, she is speaking truth to the message that brown girls from all over the western world have been told their whole lives: you are not the protagonist, the coveted love interest, the hero. 

And although viewers had to wait every week to see it, we got to see this doesn’t have to be true. 

Although Ms. Marvel, like other Disney+/Marvel miniseries, followed the traditional weekly release model of archaic cable television days, it wasn’t as successful in numbers, as other shows that relied on audiences sustaining anticipation, following key information regarding the mythos/connection to the MCU, and posting fan theories online related to their prior knowledge of the characters. It was reported that Ms. Marvel had decreased viewership from week to week. However, the demographics that were watching were significantly larger groups of South Asian, Black, and Latino youth. Several people took to Twitter to quote-retweet news of Ms. Marvel “flopping” with reiteration that important changes were happening, and the popularity among historically under-represented and misrepresented groups should not be dismissed. As a matter of fact, that is one of the major facets of Ms. Marvel’s appeal and why it will be exciting to see what happens next with her character: because you truly cannot know. 

Each episode presents both novelty and a twist, with the challenge of sustaining balance to captivate all sorts of audiences. Reading ahead will expose you to a handful of spoilers, so continue at your own risk or after you have finished the series. 

Episode 1: 

Sometimes, I expect cringey writing where everyone gives away everyone’s relationship to each other immediately, with a line like “We’ve been best friends since kindergarten; I would never lie to you!” or “Ever since you got engaged, Mom and Dad have been pretending I don’t exist!” 

This is done only minimally for a pilot episode, with Kamala’s two best friends, Nakia Badahir (played by 19-year-old Yasmeen Fletcher who is of Lebanese descent on her mother’s side) and Bruno Carelli (played by 21-year-old Matt Lintz). Nakia is also Muslim and is an outspoken hijabi who in later episodes calls out how little time is spent on Persia in world history class compared to European history and eventually runs for (and wins) a position on the mosque board, which doesn’t currently have any young or female board members. Bruno is, I fear, the best friend experiencing unrequited love, but I really don’t want her to end up with the jealous white guy. 

Other classics of the genre: 

high school outcast in a montage of embarrassing moments to establish characterization

losing a friend to popularity (in this case, Zoe Zimmer the social media influencer who draws attention to Kamala’s first act of heroism at AvengerCon while in a Captain Marvel costume content that somehow successfully hides her identity). 

Bruno’s longing glances at Kamala and the fact that he tells her he already sees her as a superhero is pretty clear foreshadowing and I expect him to say at some point in a fit of jealousy that she’s changed and he misses the Old Kamala when her powers or a love interest take hold and he feels that his role in her life is threatened or won’t ever develop into a romantic one

Some refreshing moments: 

The clothes! Aamir, Kamala’s older brother, is dressed in traditional clothing, and characters weave Urdu and Arabic into conversation when speaking English, which feels very naturalistic and presents them as a more believable family unit

Time spent exposing the unfair commentary made by elders/women in the South Asian community who sexualize, shame, and gossip about young girls 

Characters, including Bruno, who is, as we have established, white pronounce words and phrases like “Pakistani” and “batti kolo” (turn the light on) correctly. He familiarizes himself with, engages with, and appreciates the predominant culture of the community around him rather than Kamala being expected to center whiteness and assimilation. 

Episode 2: 

A South Asian love interest for a South Asian lead who respects, affirms, and connects with Kamala culturally? Revolutionary. About damn time. I was so giddy for Kamala. When they debate Shah Rukh Khan’s best films and referring to Bollywood staples by their acronyms, it felt like having an inside joke with the South Asian characters, which isn’t a feeling I often have with American media.

I also found it hilarious that Kamran, the crush who arrives as a new student/transfer senior, keeps calling Bruno “Brian”. I wonder if the writers included that as a reclamation of the universally annoying experience of South Asian kids when our names are butchered. 

Mythos around the magical bangle that activates Kamala’s powers is developed, and the episode largely centers around the Muslim festival of Eid-al Adha at the mosque, where more attention is drawn to her and her placeholder superhero name coined by Zoe, Night Light. 

There’s an incident at the mosque that shakes Kamala’s confidence in her abilities while also further catching the attention of the Department of Damage Control to send people after her, a move catalyzed by implicit bias towards the Muslim community. I like that the show didn’t shy away from the motive and prejudice of the DODC. Sadie Deever is the most trigger-happy agent and is played by Alysia Reiner, who you might recognize as the corrupt warden, Natalie “Fig” Figueroa in Netflix’s prison comedy-drama, Orange is the New Black (2013-2019). She really was made for these types of roles. 

Episode 3: 

Kamala learns of another even stronger connection to Kamran when she meets his mother, Najma. Najma knew Aisha, Kamala’s great grandmother who was a fellow Clandestine, a mystical being from another dimension. Among what is uncovered: context behind a vision, a family history that Muneeba, Kamala’s strict mother, refuses to discuss because it brings her great shame, and dangerous, deadly ulterior motives. 

I know this episode is setting up the conclusion to season 1, but it seemed like the plot was moving too quickly, leaving no room for mystery or relationships to develop. There is a beautiful wedding scene and dance numbers at Aamir and Tyesha’s wedding, but there is too much chaos swirling around in this episode. Too many characters are revealed too quickly, there is very little room to build suspense or theories of your own or really learn all the names/stories, and the episode was filled with a mish-mash of mini conflicts that seemed more so to exist to fill up time than anything else. The A plot is obviously Kamala learning more about who and what she is and the truth about her powers, but if you can’t commit to properly developing a B or C plot, you probably shouldn’t be throwing in even more minutiae with a D or E plot. 

Episode 4: 

The second half of the season is my favourite. Kamala arrives in Karachi with her mother after her Nani (maternal grandmother) Sana calls them with an urgent message to visit, a call related to Kamala’s heritage and powers, that Muneeba can no longer deny or chalk it up to her own mother and grandmother’s insanity. 

Sana, and episodes 4-5, do not shy away from the darkness of the partition and mention it throughout as a major factor in Muneeba’s hesitation to believe the stories of her family history and let Kamala get wrapped up in it. Sana has no photos to remember her parents by and therefore keeps their memory alive through her art, which Kamala finds. Her grandmother tells her, when asked of her childhood and feelings of a lost identity, “People are claiming their identity based on an idea some old Englishman had when they were fleeing the country. How is one to deal with that?”

The question left me reflecting on how much animosity lingers between Pakistanis, Punjabis, and Indians in general, between Hindus, Muslims, and Sikhs. The divide-and-conquer tactic of the British worked painfully well for the colonizers. 

Footage of Pakistan isn’t oversaturated with the turmeric filter of so many western films that intentionally depict West and South Asian countries as dusty, dirty, and hot. And we get to see Kamala wandering around the city, exploring the bazaars (markets), and hanging out with her colourful, lively cousins who are not out-of-touch with modern technology or fashion, which is also a common misrepresentation. She eats Pakistani food, befriends a local named Kareem (another possible South Asian love interest) who is part of a secret society of warriors known as the Red Daggers, and she is for the most part safe from the dangers of being in Jersey City with both the DODC and the other Clandestines after her. However, they do eventually catch up with Kamala, Kareem, and the leader of the Red Daggers, Waleed. 

There was an upside, however, to not knowing how many conflicts or plot twists are going to occur. Because if even with everything established until this point, even if the story is constantly going in so many different directions, episode 5 and 6 have the opportunity to be really strong because they’re unpredictable. 

Episode 5:

After an attack that strikes the bangle sends Kamala back in time, a story of a growing family during British colonial rule and the subsequent Partition becomes the centerpiece of this penultimate episode. 

And it’s a poignant, rich episode filled with historical context surrounding the Partition of India, which resulted in the formation of Pakistan and the separation/death of thousands of mostly Muslims, Sikhs, and Christians who were forced to leave their homes to move to the other states, including a separated Punjab. India was formed mostly of Hindu regions and to this day, government leaders and radical religious groups push for Hindu nationalism and continue to commit hate crimes, pass legislation, and perpetuate acts of genocide against non-Hindu minorities. The 1947 partition led to the largest forced migration of people that has ever happened, which wasn’t due to war or famine.

The episode opens with a 1940’s old school title sequence announcing news of the time period in India with mentions of other religious minorities/communities impacted by government decisions, naming Sikhs and the cities of Amritsar and Lahore. Still, my ears had to adjust to this. “They are talking about my culture, cities I have been to, places I am from; they are saying words in another language that I can understand, playing music my Naanima enjoys, showing events my Naanaji witnessed. Marvel is really showing this; it’s giving me an actual reflection for the first time in my entire life.”

Episode 5 recounts the story of Kamala’s great grandparents, a strong and unlikely couple that fell in love, faced numerous challenges in protecting their family and livelihood, and begin the story of Kamala’s powers in connection to the magical bangle. 

The events and ongoing impact of the partition is rarely if ever discussed in public school world history classes, and many Pakistani and Punjabi people that I know have, like myself, have known about it directly through the lens of our grandparents and great grandparents who were there. That’s how recent this all is. 

To see a family begin to rip off the bandage of something as painful and difficult to talk about as disconnections from one’s lineage or misunderstandings of history was really powerful to see, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for Kamala for seeking out answers and ultimately helping the women in her family find their way back to each other. 

Episode 6:

Because Episode 5 was emotionally the season’s strongest and had the biggest personal impact on me, I think it was hard for the finale to deliver as once again, attempts to clean up conflicts and create cliffhangers prior to Ms. Marvel’s reappearance in the 2023 Marvels film were messy. 

Even though I continued to love the soundtrack, the references to specific South Asian quirks and rites of passage (like bargaining with the tailor at a bazaar and telling your family all about the deal you got on the presents you brought back for them), I was left with a lot of questions that didn’t make me interested in getting the answer later more than it just solely confused me. 

One of which is the weird parental switch up in the last episode when Yusuf (who is generally pretty chill compared to his wife but still is a protective father) and Muneeba have a change of heart to information that characteristically, I would think they would have serious concerns about. How transformative was the trip or the time lapse over the season for Muneeba to loosen the reins that much and even present Kamala with that desi stylized custom gift? (It was a dope gift, but still!)

The kids’ response to the ongoing threat of the DODC looked like a writers’ room group project gone wrong. It made no sense and appeared incredibly weak to the sheer manpower, stealth, and expertise of the government entity. How does a show simultaneously do the following so well: 

Speak to how Muslims are used to living in a surveillance state

 highlight the violence of white ignorance in showing how Agent Deever mistook a quote from Abraham Lincoln as being from the Quran

Depict the dangers of the adultification of youth of colour particularly Black and brown boys) among law enforcement in perceiving them as fully grown men while, as the actual adults in the situations, you are making the immature and harmful decisions 

And then compose something reminiscent of wacky Disney Channel antics as a stronghold against Marvel villains? 

And oof, when I heard that nostalgic electric guitar tune upon Bruno explaining Kamala’s DNA and her powers, I just about threw my hands up in exhaustion thinking “How much are they really trying to throw into this show?” 

If you’ve seen Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness (2022), perhaps you can understand my fatigue with the wild narrative flailing that is occurring among recent Marvel productions as they try to resuscitate appeal post-Avengers: Endgame. 

However, the origin of what becomes Kamala’s superhero identity of Ms. Marvel is revealed at the end, and it is very different from what I thought. I thought having a superhero girl who is a fan of Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers call herself Ms. Marvel was a weak choice that presented confusion, but even then, I was given the pleasant surprise of culturally informed storytelling. 

I never made the connection that I had always heard the Hindi phrase “kamaal hai” in Bollywood films to describe something wonderful, something “marvelous” until Yusuf explains it to Kamala.

And ultimately, that’s just what this series has been. And I’m looking forward to the development of Iman Vellani’s career as one of the new faces of this next generation of Marvel characters because maybe, there is hope after all. 

#ms. marvel #ms marvel #iman vellani #mcu multiverse #mcu #ms marvel review #rish shah

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Bridgerton Season 2 is a delightful surprise

If you recommended me Netflix’s Bridgerton (adapted from the book series by Julia Quinn into a streaming television period drama series produced by Shonda Rhimes) and called it Gossip Girl meets Downton Abbey...none of it would compel me to watch it. I’ve never seen Grey’s Anatomy or How to Get Away With Murder or Scandal, but I understood Shonda Rhimes to be a powerful creative force with a hearty career in producing and writing for American television. I’ve never seen Gossip Girl or Downton Abbey, so the appeal in marrying the two to describe Bridgerton also didn’t work for me. I don’t care for period dramas, and the Regency era of London did not strike me as an intriguing backdrop for anything. I don’t care about the romantic plight of wealthy white British people living in the 1800s.

So how did I become so enthralled by season 2 of Bridgerton, without having watched season 1 and largely ignoring the selling points of it being a great, colourful source of escapism. I wasn’t even pulled in by what I thought I would be: the introduction of two South Asian characters (Simone Ashley who plays Kate Sharma and Charithra Chandra who plays her younger sister Edwina) involved in a love triangle with the leading man, Anthony Bridgerton (played by Jonathan Bailey). 

Bridgerton follows a powerful London high society family in a vivid fictional universe that is true to the pressures of debutante balls and courting season designed to couple young adults from prestigious or noble families into marital unions that carry financial and/or social benefit for each other’s families. Racial differences are essentially ignored, with major characters being Black, such as the Queen of England (played by Guyanese-British actress Golda Rosheuvel) and Lady Danbury (played by Ghanaian-British actress Adjoa Andoh). Interracial couples existing in high society was completely unheard of at the time, yet last season’s central romance was between a Black duke, Simon Basset (played by Rege-Jean Page) and the eldest Bridgerton daughter, Daphne (played by Phoebe Dynover). This could’ve gone so wrong, but I found it to be a refreshing source of escapism to not have characters of colour have their stories center around discrimination or trauma, especially in diversifying Black characters’ narratives to not just be about the historical time period’s violence towards Black people in the form of kidnapping, enslavement, and displacement. Everyone gets to exist in this affluent bubble, and there’s something almost utopian about it, although the show does touch upon the financial wobbling of other families at risk for losing their social ranking and classist attitudes towards members of the working class. I don’t want to gas the show up too much because the main families are still entirely white with characters of colour revolving around this specific white family as satellites to the true main characters, which will always be eponymously, a Bridgerton. 

Season 2 spotlights Daphne’s older brother, the eldest Bridgerton sibling (played by Jonathan Bailey) who gets himself wrapped up in a love triangle between sisters Edwina and Kate Sharma. Edwina is primed by her older sister and Lady Danbury to become the “diamond of the season”, naturally catching the attention of practical family man Anthony, who repeatedly butts heads with Kate. Edwina is perfect on paper – she’s well read, she’s accommodating, she’s warm – whereas Kate is headstrong and challenges gender norms as well as Anthony’s patience. 

When I tell you that the incredible slow burn and sexual tension between Anthony and Kat is so satisfying and scratched such a specific itch that I didn’t even know I, as a queer woman, even had…I surprise even myself. I had seen plenty advertisements for the show, including promotional material featuring #kanthony, but it wasn’t until I saw a TikTok with Anthony giving his impassioned, frustrated monologue (“You are the bane of my existence, and the object of all my desires” - the way I screamed!) that I decided to give the show a proper go. 

The enticing build-up keeps you hooked and there are so many substantial sub-plots surrounding this love story that keep you occupied rather than just operate as filler storylines in between the next steamy scene you’re anticipating. It kept checking boxes I didn’t know I had by addressing so many topics so well:

 Grief and its many forms 

How trauma ages you and the expectation to be responsible leads to unfair perceptions that you are cold and unfeeling when the option was not afforded to you to be easy or enthralled by something as “impractical” or “selfish” as your own emotions or desires

Related, the eldest child’s tendency to operate and sacrifice things as a third parent in certain families, which often is the dynamic and role of eldest daughters in brown families 

The link (relative to both masculinity and eastern approaches to mental health) between one’s ego and the ability to accept help or display vulnerability.

Even aspects of Indian culture were embedded into the story seamlessly, particularly with the pre-wedding haldi scene. 

But an important aspect of the casting choice within the context of this time period piece and in western media in general is the fact that the two female leads and love interests are dark-skinned South Asian women. @bootlegmegz says it best in her TikTok video when she states, “There’s a specific reason every brown woman you know is losing their mind over the season and how Kate and Edwina are portrayed.” She goes on to say, “So I grew up in India, in Bangalore, for the first 18 years of my life, so I can’t really compare what the Indian experience growing up in the west is, but there are obviously aspects that overlap. But when I tell you the colourism in India is so much more deep rooted and accepted as normal thought, than it is in the west, I’m not joking.” And she’s really not. The skin fairness industry represents about 50% of India's entire skincare market, with estimates of its worth varying between $US 450–535 million, according to the National Center for Biotechnology Information. Meg continues to point out, “It is very normal for family members to have conversations with you about the tone of your skin, if you’ve gotten darker or lighter, and ways to ‘remedy’ that. And as a result, it becomes very important, at least for young girls at the time, to look fair or seem fair, in whatever way they can, and develop a certain aversion to being dark or seeing darkness as attractive. Because you’re taught that darkness is the antithesis of beauty. And there are definitely still days where I can’t seem to unlearn that idea, you know. That’s a lot to process as a young person, but definitely more so as an adult because you look back on how much of your life you’ve spent thinking that thing. And it’s really hard to reconcile in India because we don’t have a big white diaspora that lives there, and they’re not like a regular part of society like it is [in the west]. And I only learned to decolonize my view toward myself or attraction or sex when I came here because it’s a far more multicultural society. But it is still hard to let go of this notion that European-approved attraction is very superior to dark skinned people. And so much so for Indian girls because even within our own country, even within our own film industry, we really dislike dark skinned actresses. Like even in the Tamil movie industry, I cannot tell you how many random British actresses they employ in place of Tamil actresses. And while yes, it has colonialist undertones, I cannot tell you how new and refreshing it is to see a fair-skinned character just find dark-skinned women attractive for themselves. It is very rare. We don’t even do it to ourselves. And it is hard for me to look at sometimes because I understand how far away from reality it is, and I feel like I’ll spend most of the rest of my life trying to figure out why I feel that way. And I think part of it comes from the fact that we’re not allowed to find ourselves attractive unless somebody [white] else does first.”

Fortunately for young impressionable South Asian viewers, Bridgerton season 2 seeks less to tell our girls to seek the love and affection of a white man and more to show the inherent beauty in existing unapologetically, as Kate Sharma does. 

#bridgerton #kate sharma #kanthony #jonathan bailey #ashley simone #charithra chandran #regency era #south asian #colorism

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“The Sex Lives of College Girls” misses the representation mark with Bela Malhotra

It took me awhile to get to HBO’s “The Sex Lives of College Girls” for a number of reasons. For one, I’m a full time high school teacher and grad school student, which should tell you plenty about how much I want to spend my few moments of free time in front of a screen on top of how much I already do. Much less to watch yet another show centering around people my age playing minors, or at the oldest, 18-year-old college freshmen. 

And honestly, if you’ve read any of my previous reviews regarding work executive produced, created, or co-written by Mindy Kaling, you would know that I do not typically allow myself to have high hopes for it. 

Reading on is important, as is reading those reviews (about films/tv shows centering whiteness/men even if and especially when the main character is a woman of color and oftentimes the embodiment of one-dimensional or deprecating tropes). And also, before anyone immediately decides this is a bout of internalized racism or misogyny, I have noted previously that Mindy Kaling has made it a point of how she is unfairly expected to be a spokesperson for the South Asian experience when white men are not held to the same responsibility or criticized in the same way because they get to tell their singular stories (which are naturally defaulted as the story most worth producing/telling/renewing). I do agree that that is unfair. 

With that said, it cannot be ignored that part of her success and recognition for major accomplishments is celebrating that she is a noteworthy first in many respects directly related to her identity as a South Asian female actor, writer, director, and producer, and for the fact that she is putting on South Asian female leads in spaces where we have not previously seen them: in the leads of mainstream tv series and films. I love this, in theory, and I think it’s important to critique it in practice. 

Did I recently submit my final capstone paper for my graduate degree? Have I suddenly found the time to write an unsolicited thinkpiece on a piece of media that maybe a dozen people will read? Is that what I majored in during undergrad and do I want to revive my love of writing, which felt attacked by the demands of homework assignments and working in academia? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. And I am especially critical of narratives that shape public opinion about my identity as a South Asian woman. I have also created my own work in the hopes of diversifying depictions of desi characters, and the more I see disheartening, repetitive caricatures, the more I feel compelled to explain why this is not okay as well as keeping making my own art in the form of fiction writing, screenplays, or digital art that centers and celebrates my identity in an empowering manner. Because you can be funny and find love and explore your interests and challenge tradition and break down intergenerational trauma without making jabs at yourself, seeking proximity to whiteness, or making your content palatable to an audience that at a baseline, knows very little about your culture and wouldn’t be interested in learning more unless you have Dwight from The Office explain what Diwali is. 

“The Sex of College Girls” sticks to Mindy Kaling’s brand of comedy (self deprecation, the “playful” and somehow not harmful ignorance of white people, lots and lots sexual innuendos), only with more explicit nudity/language afforded by being an HBO production. In this 10-episode series, four college freshmen roommates navigate identity, sexuality, and the other social, financial, and academic demands of being at a prestigious university in Vermont, which is fictionalized in the show as Essex College. 

Amrit Kaur plays Bela Malhotra, a sex-positive, crass-humoured Indian-American girl who is very interested in exploring and unleashing her sexually repressed self, now that she is no longer living with her traditional Indian parents, who think she is studying in neuroscience. She is very passionate about being a comedy writer and writing for the school’s renowned comedy magazine, known as the Catullan. I want to say she is a refreshing new character compared to what we have seen Mindy Kaling create, but she is really just Mindy’s character, Molly Patel, in Late Night (2019) and Devi Vishwakumar from her Netflix series, Never Have I Ever, in a different font. In addition, she cracks the same regurgitated jokes about body hair and is written alongside or hinted at having exclusively white male love interests. Again. 

Not even two minutes into the pilot episode, when the girls are being dropped off to their dorms by their parents, Bela delivers a painful monologue comparing her transformation into a liberated college woman to Ben Affleck’s back tattoo of a phoenix rising up from the ashes. (Like Mindy Lahiri’s character in The Mindy Project, Bela communicates through celebrity references to make her point.) She tells her parents, “Four months ago, I was an Indian loser with cystic acne, sweaty armpits, and glasses. But with one Lasik procedure, an Accutane prescription, and medical-grade Botox injected into my armpits, I’m normal.” 

HBO Max’s TikTok account even recently highlighted that particular scene, as if it’s some hilarious self-aware joke that attacks what society expects women to go through to be considered normal. But this did not do what the writers think it did. Why is Bela’s Indian-ness something she has to overcome in order to achieve “normal-ness”, whatever that is? Her experiences of being a teenager who sweats a lot, has acne, and wears glasses is not unique to Indian girls, so why is it being portrayed as such? Why did she specifically say she was an “Indian loser”? 

Throughout the rest of the episode and series as a whole, the show touches on heavier topics such as classism, internalized homophobia, and sexual assault, which depressingly, majority of women in college experience. And this very much happens to women in their occupations, particularly in the entertainment industry. Instead of being used as filler plot devices, the challenges that the four women experience do inform their relationships with each other and themselves, so I was almost relieved that this was handled with a little bit more nuance. Bela has to consider what it means to be authentic to herself and hold people in positions of power accountable, whether it’s her parents for imposing expectations that are not fulfilling to her or the head writers of the Catullan for facilitating a dangerous bro culture that makes it difficult for her or other victims to come forward about the sexual assault(s) or advance in her writing pursuits. 

I know that they say to write what you know, and Mindy Kaling knows about the world of working with white men in comedy who may abuse their power or make women like Bela work extra hard to prove that they are worthy of a seat at the table. She knows what it’s like to go to an Ivy League school on the east coast. She knows how tricky it is to juggle the expectations and American dream of immigrant parents while growing up in America and trying to figure out who you are. However, I think it would’ve been more interesting and something truly new of Kaling to create Bela through the lens of any one of her other roommates’ story arcs, like being a wealthy, closeted femme lesbian whose family assumes she will marry/date a man within their approved social circle. Or getting caught in an infidelity scandal that impacts her membership on the collegiate soccer team and draws additional controversy because she is a senator’s daughter. Or coming from a low income, conservative family and experiencing a lot of painful or complicated firsts that impact her scholarship/financial standing to be able to continue to attend Essex College. All of these narratives are ones that the modern desi girl can relate to as well, no matter who plays the character. If we were to see something new however, Bela Malhotra would not be a horny science nerd who is subconsciously insecure of being Indian and very interested in sleeping with white men.

In a New York Times interview, Amrit Kaur said one of the cringiest, poorly articulated things she could have when asked about the significance of a character like Bela and why American culture is so obsessed with the sex lives of young women.

In an edited excerpt of their conversation, the actors of the show answered in a way that reflected the experience of their character. Pauline Chalamet who plays small town work-study student Kimberly named that fetishization of young women contributes to the obsession around girls having “crazy, amazing sex all the time”, but the show focuses more on the parts that are honest in that certain situations can be “awkward”, “weird”, and “funky”, which is exactly how Kimberly’s sexual debut and the ensuing events for her character unfold. Alyah Chanelle Scott, who plays Whitney, the soccer player and daughter of a U.S. senator, spoke to the hypersexualization of Black women as scandalous, with white women hailed as the standard of sexy, all seen through the male gaze. I agree with the importance of the show showing Black women getting to have “awkward, normal, messy sexual moments”. Maybe this will be explored in season 2 when news of the cheating scandal makes its way to the wife and eventually Whitney’s mother, who has already demonstrated a familiarity with facing a white public’s judgment in the show. 

For some reason, Kaur felt the need to double down on the statement that Black women get oversexualized, and then add that “brown women have the exact opposite experience. We’re not sexualized at all – we’re virginal. So to now have a character that has sex and has all these ideas about sex, that’s all really important. She gets into a lot of dangerous situations as a result, but also learns a lot.” Framing it the way she did, as in unnecessarily comparing two minorities without any nuance, implies that Black women benefit from having the opposite experience of brown women, which simply isn’t true. In the cases where we see Black women reclaiming and celebrating their sexuality, they are subjected to additional scrutiny and consequences for their career/public image (see: Janet Jackson, Lizzo, Megan Thee Stallion, to name a few). She could’ve skipped the part about Black women and said brown women, more specifically Indian women, are not seen as sexual beings, and the point she was maybe trying to make would have come across better. When Black women are perceived as inherently sexual, they are not cast in empowering roles and the leads of HBO tv shows; they are ridiculed and victimized and harmed at a rate higher than any other demographic in the United States historically. This has been happening from as far back as the era of slavery after kidnapping and trafficking people from Africa, and today, in regards to crimes such as the kidnapping, rape, or murder of Black people. And the numbers are even higher for Black trans women. 

Kaur’s statement was made in poor taste and was far too binary. Scott said what she needed to, without speaking for Indian women or their experiences, so why did Kaur feel like she could say what she did? It brings up other questions about voices that are being included and represented in this show both in front of and behind the camera. 

What other writers besides Mindy Kaling and Justin Noble (you guessed it, a white man) participated in crafting this story? Were the only two options for this women of color in this narrative to be virginal/not sexual at all or to be very sexual (albeit in different ways from how they are usually portrayed)?I guess so, considering the very on-the-nose title of the show. But why was that how Kaur seemed to perceive the entire Black and brown experience to be as well? The power of media and representation – it really does impact and reinforce thinking. 

In summation, I was left disappointed with Bela as a character and Kaur as one of the few examples of desi representation I have in mainstream media, and the closest to my background (as a Punjabi woman raised Sikh) since Lilly Singh came on the scene (and she’s a whole other story). 

To my Punjabi women coming up and getting cast, to lowkey problematic Geminis, and to writer’s rooms everywhere (and maybe even some PR teams), do better.  

#the sex lives of college girls #mindy kaling #desi #asian representation #south asian #hbo max #bela malhotra #amrit kaur

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Never Have I Ever Season 2 is chaotic, and not in a fun way

It was announced earlier this month that Netflix’s Never Have I Ever just got renewed for a third season, which reminded me I never compiled my notes on season two. I guess I wasn’t really even in a rush because how do you even begin to organize writing a review for a show as disorganized as this one. With its mostly flat writing and directionless character development, if you could even call it, I kept waiting for the series to make sense. At least enough to determine if it was better or worse than Season 1, which I also reviewed and can be read here.

Season 2 left me feeling confused and wondering why it even existed as the plot barely moved forward despite all of the hype surrounding the renewal of the series, which originally aired just over a year ago in 2020.

The following are my thoughts on each sloppy and ultimately narratively wasteful episode.

Episode 1:

If it wasn’t obvious, and even though it has been stated that this show is apparently based off Mindy Kaling’s high school experience, it definitely comes across more like a fantasy, a daydream, a severely embellished representation. I also started to notice that the character of Devi Vishwakumar has similar mannerisms to another one of Mindy Kaling’s characters, Mindy Lahiri, played by herself in The Mindy Project. Whether Devi is directed to be or inspired by a young Mindy Kaling/Lahiri is uncertain, but the similarity in humor, demeanor, self-obsession, and (white) boy-craziness syncs up.

The usual cringiness has returned with Indian stereotypes (the mom being cheap is severely overdone) fan fiction vibes, horrible styling, and DIsney Channel style over-acting, particularly Ramona Young’s portrayal of Eleanor Wong, which is such an effective caricature of the high school theatre kid that it gives me secondhand embarrassment for the actress having to play this person. Similarly, Mr. Shapiro, the overly woke history teacher, continues to present himself as a walking meme of the American Neoliberal, from the pink pussy hat to the “If you’re not angry, you’re not paying attention” shirt.

The confusion begins fairly quickly into the season. Why would Paxton ever be nervous and at a loss for words in front of Devi’s house, where he has waited for hours, if there were other more intimate moments in Season 1 that may have implied he had feelings for Devi? Why do the extras who play sophomores in high school look 30+ years old? The casting team can clearly find better choices if they cast 30-year-old Darren Barnet to play 16-year-old Paxton Hall-Yoshida. Wasn’t Devi’s self-centeredness the cause of nearly losing her friends in Season 1? Why is it being re-used as a central conflict immediately into Season 2? I’m pretty sure she even recycles the line when her friends, Fabiola and Eleanor, are talking, “Guys, who cares? I have bigger news.” I don’t expect major growth from a 15-year-old with a lot of baggage overnight, which is the time frame between the two seasons, but Devi is so far from being an endearing main character, that I was both surprised and disappointed that the writers kept giving this annoying trait of hers so much focus.

There were some noteworthy exceptions to my unsurprising grumpiness after watching this episode. I appreciate tennis legend John McEnroe’s return as Devi’s sardonic narrator; I think he has a great voice for it. Trent Harrison, played by Benjamin Norris, is probably the only source of actual, well-timed comedy, and Ben Gross, played by Jaren Lewison, is likable despite the things that make him pretentious and annoying. It seems like the female creators of the show know how to write funny white, often times Jewish men and almost nothing else.

Some new characters also join the cast to shake life up a little for Devi’s mom, Nalini (played by Poorna Jagannathan) and her cousin, Kamala (played by Richa Moorjani). We get Common, a rival dermatologist who gets on Nalini’s nerves, and Evan, the head research assistant at Caltech who subjects Kamala to sexism with his chauvinistic tone and tasks. Kamala’s boyfriend, Prashant, who is introduced in Season 1, offers advice to Kamala about how to navigate Evan’s unfair treatment, and his supportive nature reveals itself to be something else as the season goes on. I actually found this to be interesting and worth following because Prashant represents how Indian immigrants, particularly women, are expected to respond to discrimination, in order to move forward in the professional world.

Episode 2:

Relying on the age-old triple and laziest plot device in teen movies, this episode entails Devi throwing a party while her mom is out of town. A comment is made by one of the popular mean girls that takes note of how yellow and strange Devi’s house is, and it made me think about how practically all Western fictional media needs to throw a turmeric filter over scenes where the audience absolutely needs to know that Indians live in this world. Because there is no other way to show that, apparently.

I should say, though, if I haven’t before, that the therapist is probably one of the best written characters. She drops a lot of wisdom and acts as the voice of reason, which is a given with her role and relationship to Devi.

Episode 3:

Paxton is finally given some dimension, though this episode acts as a filler more than anything, with the plot stagnating (and this is not the first time the plot does that). He is rightfully upset about what happens with Stanford (I’m doing my best to avoid spoilers, but be warned) and being cheated on by the weirdest girl he ever liked with a nerd. On top of that, we finally see the impact of everyone around Paxton having low expectations for him. From there, the show starts approaching more realistic aspects of being in high school demonstrated by Paxton’s responses to his test/performance anxiety.

Episode 4:

This episode is dedicated to Devi attempting to smooth things over with Paxton and then Ben, something she does over and over and over again in this season. A refreshing new character is introduced in the form of Aneesa Qureshi, a transfer student at Sherman Oaks High. She is confident, charismatic, and kind. One of my favourite lines in the show appears in this episode, as Devi realizes she is not disliked because of casual racism. It’s because she does not possess likeable traits. “This new kid is proving she’s objectively lame”.

Something important begins to be explored here, and that is the subconscious competition that Indian girls, particularly in their teen years, are entered in, one that pits them against anyone smarter, thinner, or conventionally prettier than them. I’m actually really glad this is shown, the wild insecurity that takes over that only prevents Devi from making a cool new friend and further isolates herself from her culture because she thinks that’s what will make her gain social capital. That is a very real flaming hoop South Asian girls are expected to jump through by perceiving each other as threats and not companions with shared experiences or backgrounds. Other brown girls can only be your frenemy, at best.

Shapiro mixing up the only two Indian students was meant to be funny, but if you’re Indian, you know how much it actually stings that you are deemed so insignificant, so much of a monolith that your name being botched is to be expected. Some of the most self aware and possibly self referential Mindy Kaling writing occurs in a conversation between Devi and Eleanor regarding Devi’s “self-hating Indian vibes”. She has no friends who are Indian, and feels like she can call out Eleanor for not having Chinese friends, but she is so self absorbed that she does not even know how false that statement is.

Moving on to some of the supporting male characters, another new character is introduced, Mannish Kulkarni, Devi’s favourite teacher played by Utkarsh Ambudkhar. You may have seen him in Pitch Perfect, Brittany Runs a Marathon, and The Broken Hearts Gallery. He has also played Mindy Lahiri’s younger brother in The Mindy Project. He is deemed the “cool” teacher, but I think he just lacks boundaries and swears too often in front of students. He even flirts with Kamala in front of Devi when she drops off her lunch, and there is some foreshadowing that he might pose a threat to her relationship with Prashant.

And Prashant is revealing some red flags as he continues to make excuses for misogynistic men in the workplace and encourages Kamala to keep her head down, which is typical Indian male thinking. Don’t make a fuss, don’t appear difficult to work with. All that nonsense packaged as politeness and concern.

And lastly, there’s Malcolm. He’s very unlikeable. I would 100% endorse bullying him. I’m Team Oliver and find Eleanor to be unnecessarily mean to him and she loses major points (not that she had a whole lot to begin with) for her actions regarding Oliver and Malcolm.

Episode 5:

The messiness is building, and my review/notes will reflect that because I begin to lose track of and interest in the plot. Devi’s alarming approaches to stress reveal how trauma can demand to be acknowledged in a psychosomatic, physiological ways. Grief and resentment can come out in ugly ways, and negative feelings are not harmless, even when not intentionally acted upon. It was a good lesson to include in the season, but every time I find a nugget of goodness, something worse squashes its impact.

I’m talking about the completely unnecessary shirtless woodworking scene that really just makes me wonder if the writers of the show share the traits of pedophiles or predators. Why are we sexualizing a 16 year old boy so intensely? And why do you think it’s okay because you cast a man twice that age to portray him? Would you have done that if this was an age-appropriate casting?

And the extremely contrived Gen Z dialogue about criticisms regarding patriarchy, heteronormativity, and feminism makes me think the writers just took buzz words from a few TikToks, Tweets, and dare I say, even Tumblr posts and thought, “Yeah, this is how modern teenagers talk.” It’s not. Maybe that was satire, but the writing is generally so bad, it’s difficult to tell when it’s ironic.

Episode 6:

I was struggling so hard to make it past halfway through the season. Devi keeps revealing herself as an increasingly horrible person and main character. There is no redemption arc for this character, and at this point, if there is, she is making it less likely or deserved. I don’t think I have ever felt more disappointed in a main character before.

I’m beginning to think it would’ve made more sense to format this review in the form of hits and misses. I guess I can start that here with the midpoint of the season.

Hits

- seeing how seriously Kamala takes her career and education; the lengths she goes to in order to ensure she gets proper credit when getting published in an academic journal (which is a big deal) is warranted, and I am glad we see her stand up to Evan’s condescension and sexism

- trans casting! (Jasmine Davis plays Nalini’s assistant nurse and Alexandra Billings plays the college counselor, Ms. Warren)

- Nalini’s outfits are fire

- Sasha, Eve’s snarky queer Black friend who is critical of Fabiola (and deserved more screen time than any recurring character)

- the rage issues explored in a lead that is such a flawed underdog is new and bold but not well executed with Devi

Misses

- Jonah’s character is essentially a tacky gossipy gay Twitter account, and I’m really sad he wasn’t developed beyond such a caricature

- Aneesa’s background story of her disorder prompting a confession that is mostly excuses and justifications, as Devi kicks off another leg of her massive apology tour which got boring in Season 1

One of my favourite scenes was actually when Devi got suspended and her wretched behaviour actually earns her consequences (but she still continues to be shitty after that and learns next to nothing. This girl is exhausting.)

Episode 7:

The styling and dialogue is so bad that actors who actually are 19-22 come across like cringey 35+ year olds. I mean, the fact that “no doy” is said in earnest more than once...come on.

Episode 8:

Yikes, Malcolm is red flag after red flag, exemplifying unhealthy controlling teen relationships.

Again, Sasha should have had more screen time.

And Paxton says to Devi, summarizing the show really, “Seems like you’re in a fight with lots of people.”

My review is devolving...I’m struggling to get to the finish line. I don’t even want to do complete sentences anymore, y’all.

Episode 9:

- is the vishwakumar house really just a world market pop up because that’s what it looks like

- manipulative malcolm, projection - he seriously sucks

- prashant presenting himself as unsupportive passive keep your head down kind of indian boooooo

- nice to delve into paxton’s heritage and the japanese internment camps of ww2

- does capture the messiness of grief both from a mom trying to keep it together and a teenager who has emotional flares shooting out of her in every direction

- shutting down because everyone thinks she’s crazy would’ve been interesting to explore more

- ojichan internment camp

- dr. ryan <333

- nirmala’s response to nalini dating came as a shocker, i would lose it too

- this truly is fiction if it’s raining that hard in sherman oaks

- sneaking in through the window, soaking wet - more horny writing

- i understand the connection that paxton has to devi for making him feel empowered and capable - the back and forth of this couple is not worth keeping up with

- this must be what made “Heat Waves” by Glass Animals pop up everywhere

Episode 10:

- mixed messages from paxton, not exciting enough to follow

- devi continues to cut off everything her friends are occupied with her own boy bullshit

- i guess it is a sign of growth to not settle for being a sneaky link

- but if riverdale and its cringey writing can go on for as long as it did, why am i being so hard on never have i ever

- but maybe i don’t want to measure this by the same shitty bar

- jonah’s lines “i’m ubiquitous, henny” and “sister”...appropriation of AAVE from another white gay is a big no from me

- “my hearing aids have been specifically tuned to eavesdrop” is a funny line though

I don’t recommend it. Usually, I can power through a show. I can write something more in depth and check my own biases, which I did try to do, but Season 2 was painful and bad. Do I want to be hopeful about Season 3? Naively, yeah. Am I willing to trudge through another ten episodes of nonsense and cyclical characterization...no.

#never have i ever #south asian #review #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #netflix #blog #sincerelybillie

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Plan B offers a refreshing alternative to typical teen comedies

I’ve never watched a teen comedy on a streaming service without seeing a trailer first, being messaged a recommendation, or seeing mixed reviews on Twitter. This is especially true in the few cases with South Asian female leads, and after a handful of disappointing casting choices and plot points, I don’t usually have high hopes in the instances I do see someone who looks like me playing the main character.

The Indian Girl is usually highly academically driven, makes self-deprecating jokes about her body hair, and a socially awkward virgin with her eyes set on the (nearly) unattainable athletic, popular white boy. Whether it’s been the writing of Mindy Kaling with The Mindy Project (2012-2015) or Never Have I Ever (2020 - present), Natalie Krinsky’s The Broken Hearts Gallery (2020), you can never have all three:

- a central romance between two South Asian characters

- a South Asian female lead

- the brown woman not being her own constant punchline

I stumbled across Plan B (2021), which is directed by Natalie Morales from a screenplay written by Parthian Srinivasan and Joshua Levy, while mindlessly scrolling Hulu with my partner at the time, who — and I am aware of the hypocrisy — is a white man. Social distancing mandates had caused me to stay home more than ever and entertain shows and movies I hadn’t never caught onto or heard of. I no longer had the excuse of work/grad school because we were off for the summer or other plans to keep me away from what I presumed I would not enjoy. I’m definitely known in my social and even academic/professional circles as a vocational, outspoken media critic (film degree needed to go somewhere), particularly in regards to anything that attempts to champion representation for Indian women and/or queer folks.

“Ugh, this is probably going to be about a nerdy Indian girl who wants to ‘lose her virginity’ to a generic white boy,” I remember muttering, not even clicking to see the trailer or Wikipedia’ing the entire cast as I often do when I think I recognize someone from somewhere. (Hunter was the only vaguely familiar face; he is played by Michael Provost, who is known for playing Brick Armstrong in Netflix’s 2018-2019 series Insatiable, another show I decided to delve into during the pandemic.)

Again, I am aware that I myself carry biases and am constantly working through my own self-criticism as the highly academically driven Indian girl who “lost her virginity” to a white boy, too. I think that is part of my frustration with media that reinforces my own unoriginality and susceptibility to the most common narrative about people like me that could ever be made available to the masses.

My partner headed home for the night, and I ended up watching Plan B anyways while waiting for the text that he had arrived back at his place. This got me through more than half the film in the meantime. Call it a desire to chase my confirmation bias, cure my boredom, or maybe even indulge in a brief moment of open-mindedness and giving the movie a chance. Sometimes, we just click on something to help us pass the time, don’t we?

The movie starts as many teen flicks do, with an alternating montage sequence of our main character, Sunny (played by Kuhoo Verma) getting ready for the school day, contrasted by the routine of her best friend, Lupe (played by Victoria Moroles), the rebellious stoner type who begins vaping upon waking up. The dollhouse-like interior of Sunny’s bedroom is where she turns her stuffed elephant’s eyes away as she starts masturbating to an image of a naked person in her biology textbook, the closest she gets to a penis (until later that night). This scene alone probably should’ve been a sign that the nerdy virgin trope is being exaggerated, and this film is being ironic, but my past viewership of such narratives and depictions made it take me a bit longer to realize Plan B is actually a parody of everything I love to hate about these kinds of movies. And it did it so well, it seemed sincere. Which makes everything even funnier.

Religious, conservative parents who leave little room for independence, mistakes, or creative expression. Check. This will fuel the fire, the secrecy, the mayhem that is going to ensue to keep whatever the secret is.

Establishing shots of a small, boring town that cannot contain their personalities or desires. Check. check.

Solo slumber parties with the only other friend you have who also indulges your nerdy hobbies, like anime and thousand-piece puzzles. Okay. Slumber party becomes a “rager” to capture the attention of the love interest while Sunny’s mom is conveniently out of town. Nothing new here.

But I was ignoring, in my own hunt for righteousness, that Sunny and Lupe are witty, unconcerned with popularity, and content in each other’s company. There are love interests, sure, but these girls aren’t pining for school wide validation, trying to win prom queen, or victims of a cruel bet. Megan and Emma are the popular girls (thin, white blondes who display their sexuality more explicitly to contrast the inexperienced Sunny) who get barely any screen time, with very little dialogue. Looking back, that might be one of the top three things I appreciate about Plan B. It didn’t entertain the idea that Sunny or Lupe wanted to be Megan or Emma, or that the other girls were necessarily the enemy.

Our dynamic duo is just angsty and horny, in a way that is honest and humorous without being crass or a regurgitation of every other portrayal of a sexually frustrated main character who will do whatever it takes to get the guy. In this story, the main character is driven by the will to do whatever it takes to not be pregnant, which will be more devastating for her than graduating as a virgin.

Lupe’s astute observations, snappy comebacks, and apathy for the opinions or well-being of anyone but her best friend complements Sunny’s anxious demeanor well. At one point, she counters Sunny’s description of her crush Hunter as “an athletic librarian” with the remark that wearing a cardigan while playing hockey actually just gives off “major guidance counselor vibes”. Lupe’s presence and commentary is not only a comedic foil to Sunny, but throughout the film, we see how she does not sacrifice her independent thoughts and desires to serve Sunny’s story, and Lupe herself gets a proper plot line that is explored meaningfully while the night goes on.

Like I said, it’s nice to not see screen time dominated by the forgettable popular girls (I had to Google the character list, that’s how little they are mentioned). I think the most memorable interaction was when one of the girls, Megan, grabs Hunter’s hockey stick euphemistically and comments how it’s dry(?) and proceeds to run her tongue upside it, as Hunter advises, “I definitely wouldn’t lick it.”

Some other classic traits of the teen comedy you may be able to spot are well distributed throughout the scenes in the high school and podunk small town places Sunny and Lupe that head to in their wild goose chase for a Plan B pill or the generous doors of Planned Parenthood.

The characters themselves often make jabs at many of the tropes that they represent themselves, reminiscent of the meta-comedic and punchy writing of Mean Girls (2004). There’s even a random line reminiscent of the tampon/pad joke about heavy flows, but I don’t know if that parallel was intentional. I also never expected to talk about that movie like it’s historical cinema. Oof.

Even socially uncoordinated and easily flustered Sunny provides a lot of snappy one-liners that land as criticisms of how teenage/Indian girls are perceived and not as conformity. And Kuhoo’s comedic timing and facial expressions — notably the entire time her character is accidentally high — are some definite highlights. Sunny is an underdog I was actually rooting for, and not because you’re supposed to even when the character is unlikeable. Sunny is likeable, and when we really only have the messy Mindy Lahiri or Devi Vishwakumar as examples, it was nice to want things to work out for her for reasons other than “Oh, finally an Indian girl as the lead! I have to like her no matter what!” Sometimes, I feel hesitant to be as critical of the few media representations I have because I don’t want to come across like I haven’t worked on my internalized racism or misogyny; I have and of course I still am. At the same time, there are productions in which the few South Asian characters I get to see are very difficult to defend, even if they are written as quirky, understandably flawed, or a “hot mess”.

Plan B makes room, without negotiating, for other important parts of teenagehood. At the root of the story is the bond between two best friends who treat each other’s company as what will make high school, heartache, an unexpected pregnancy, angry parents all survivable. Sunny and Lupe’s friendship is a love story in itself, as they show audience members all you really need is that one best friend at a party, on a road trip, through all the chaos of your life, as the trusted keeper of your secrets.

Similar to Never Have I Ever’s Devi and other teen movies, Sunny also participates in the omission of truth about who, if anyone, she loses her virginity to. Hunter isn’t concerned with public image or aligns with the dumb jock stereotype, instead offering a more surprising charm that even Sunny isn’t aware of at first. It is worth noting how much focus is placed on giving dimension to side characters in this movie, even if how they act doesn’t change the course of the plot overall.

I also appreciate the mention of the Indian Mafia, which, if you don’t already know what it is, you will find out after watching. And despite Lupe’s reassurance and this movie being fiction, it is very much real.

And so is the problematic “conscience clause”, mentioned early on as an obstacle to Sunny’s body autonomy. Important reminders of the additional barriers that young women of colour face in seeking reproductive healthcare in this country can be found throughout the mayhem that the two friends have to endure. At the same time, the movie also makes space for a low brow line in which Sunny complains that it will take 69 hours to get to the nearest Planned Parenthood.

Without denying or pigeon-holing the experiences of closeted queer teens, Plan B also reminds viewers that there are places throughout the country where kids do not feel safe to be themselves and do find solace, support, and love in online communities.

I found both Kuhoo Verma’s and Victoria Moroles’ individual portrayals of 17-year-olds juggling various aspects of their identities and their dynamic together as breakout performances, and I look forward to seeing what else they star in.

The pacing of the film is naturally aided by the race against the clock when it comes to the efficacy of retrieving and taking the morning after pill, but there is a fun rhythm that balances coincidence, pleasant surprises, and complete shock that challenged everything I thought I was going to see by the time I got to the middle of the movie. Often, there is a lazy montage to indicate the passage of time and the viewer has the responsibility of filling in the plot with an understanding that relationships have developed, changed, or fizzled out. But Plan B keeps you comfortably engaged, and by the time my partner texted me that he was home, I happily accepted that I actually had no idea what was going to happen in this movie and that it had grown on me. I was enjoying the ride that Sunny and Lupe’s overnight misadventures were taking me on as an amused bystander, and that wasn’t a feeling I had gotten from anything aimed at a young adult audience in awhile.

It even captures nuanced parts of being a teenager of color in a small, predominantly white town, like the gentle, fluttery feeling of finally getting to spend time with someone who helps you peel back so many layers, the unexpected blending of friend groups, innocent misinterpretations, and the underestimation of the love of parents who do try to sustain tradition but still know how to unconditionally love and support their children. This is especially important to see in 2021.

I appreciate the soft, mundane but vulnerable moments where the characters grow closer. There doesn’t need to be a massive blow out or tear that needs mending - though those moments do occur - for relationships to progress, and it takes good writing to not have to rely on “this only happens in movies” moments. People become friends and sometimes more in the regular, everyday moments during conversations, meals, or in chilly parking lots in South Dakota of all places.

In hindsight, I am glad I didn’t watch the trailer for Plan B, even if it likely would have meant I would have picked up on what was ironically or unironically included in the story. Because it meant that I got to enjoy the movie as a chaotic buddy comedy (Verma and Moroles are seriously hilarious together) and remove the lens of criticizing just how Indian and queer and feminist based on previous disappointments it could be. I wasn’t even watching it with the intention to write a review after, which would otherwise automatically apply the critical lens and often ruins my own viewing experience because I’m mentally picking the movie or show apart.

I’m writing this review mostly to say I liked having my skepticism put in check. Scattered across various stereotypical plot points were instances that made me appreciate that people are still making these types of movies, a genre I was hoping would die out if it was going to keep giving us the same formula.

Because that means there are going to be movies like Plan B, which take a different route.

#plan b #hulu #kuhoo verma #victoria moroles #film review #pastelpressmachine #sincerelybillie #desi #desi representation #south asian

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Never Have I Ever...seen a show like that. Or have I?

April 27th was the premiere of Never Have I Ever, a teen coming-of-age dramedy, following the experiences and struggles of a Indian-American high school girl named Devi Vishwakumar. It was created by Mindy Kaling (The Office, The Mindy Project, Champions, Late Night) and Lang Fisher (The Mindy Project, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, The Onion News Network), as an unprecedented series that offered a narrative we hadn’t seen before. I, myself, was excited because I am an Indian-American woman who has navigated deep discomfort and confusion with my identity, both in high school and even today at the age of 25. To have something representing us and enlightening audiences at the same time was incredibly important to me, and it’s what has been at the center of so much of my own education, work, and artistic creations.

I wanted to see something that empowered and gave visibility to young girls of South Asian descent, and a lot of us look to Mindy Kaling to do that. Although she has expressed in an interview that she never saw herself as the voice for South Asian women (and isn’t deeply rooted in South Indian/Hindu culture) and it’s an interesting position to be placed in when her white male counterparts aren’t expected to carry an entire ethnic group/gender’s experience on their back and make sure they execute it well. Unfortunately, though, that is the reality in our time of limited representation.

I am often told to be excited I have Lilly Singh on late night television and Mindy Kaling writing comedy shows and films and Jameela Jamil being so outspoken as a badass feminist. Sometimes, I feel pressured to support them, like I should be grateful more than critical, because I don’t have much to begin with when it comes to seeing myself in the media. But I don’t have to love and support content that comes from someone who shares my ethnicity, simply by default, nor do I think any creator or public figure is above critique. I would never bash these women, but I can express disappointment and disagreement, as a viewer and as a member of the communities they claim to be telling stories of or representing. And they could be representative for many! Some women adore them and praise them, for their own reasons. I don’t always feel that way, for my own reasons too. Maybe this wasn’t supposed to be representative, and Mindy Kaling only made something she wanted to see when she was younger. And if in the roulette of relatability, someone seems to share something with the story or its characters, those viewers defend and praise the show, which is fine, but isn’t the case for me and likely many others who might feel uncomfortable even expressing disappointment or dissatisfaction with the work of someone who is, as mentioned, given this powerful position as the South Asian-American voice in comedic television and film. I know there are a lot of Devis out there, but I don’t think we needed another show jam-packed with so many stereotypes and so little dimension and then felt like we couldn’t critique it because it came from “one of our own”. Since when did desi women decide not to be critical? At least do it in the moments where it’s justified.

What I’m saying is anything condemning me for my review would be unfair. I respect Mindy Kaling. I think she is an authentic writer who knows how to colorfully and humorously depict her experiences. She is a body-positive, generally upbeat public personality. At the same time, I can be critical of how all of her lead and many supporting characters and her writing involve appealing to if not outright chasing a conventionally attractive white male love interest. There are a lot of sassy black women with quippy one-liners, a dumb white goofball or jock, and a stereotypical gay token character in her work, from the nurses in The Mindy Project to the employees at the gym in Champions.  A lot of her jokes are fatphobic or self deprecating, at her expense or other plus-sized people. That pattern and repeated formula, coming from both her, and Hollywood in general, got tiring very quickly, not to mention disappointing in a way that made it hard to see her the same after she did it more than once or twice. I began wondering if she was someone I trusted or admired in creating something that told South Asian stories. Like I said, maybe it’s just her story multiple times. And writing what you know is a basic rule of thumb in screenwriting, so maybe that explains the redundancy.

Nevertheless, I was excited when I first heard of this project. Exactly one year ago, friends began telling me about a tweet that was circulating for open-call casting for a new coming-of-age tale that centered on an Indian-American girl. I’m not an actor, so I didn’t end up filming or submitting an audition, but I did sign up for the email with the audition information (lines for the video submission, characters, etc.). Anyone who knows me knows I care immensely about desi representation and empowering, authentic storytelling. So I looked into it. 

A year later, I had forgotten about that excitement I felt because so much had happened (graduation, career moves, moving across the country, the goddamn pandemic). And then a TikTok ad of a trio of diverse women of colour popped up this past Monday. #NeverHaveIEver was streaming now, and it took a minute for my brain to buffer and realize this was show from that email! The whole thing had been produced fully and was now available to watch. Wow, that had happened so fast and now arrived with such perfect timing. We needed this in quarantine.

I watched episode 1 the day the show aired on Netflix, and I was hopeful and eager (even if I am tired of Riverdalean casting). But I was quickly let down. In a way that angered me as well. I felt embarrassed, like someone just clowned on me. I’ll elaborate, but after seeing most of that first episode, I was put off and hurt. Why did I expect something different, but also why did a South Asian creator say she didn’t ask to be a representative voice and then make something with so many stereotypes under the guise of creating something for women of colour, specifically (but not limited to) those part of the desi diaspora?

I’ll break down each episode (with some spoilers, so be warned) and my thoughts. I honestly decided I hated the whole show after I struggled to get through the pilot. I was so angry that I let myself get excited about seeing something that wasn’t going to be whitewashed or something a white person who maybe talked to a handful of their Indian friends wrote. I live tweeted my commentary over the next two days, as I finished the series, and received DMs from other Indian women who follow me on Instagram, who had varying views — some agreeing with me completely, some saying it wasn’t that bad and to give it a chance. What we all had in common was that we wanted to have dialogue about the show. I was all for it, and I knew I needed to finish the show before I really solidified my thoughts on it. And it wouldn’t be helpful to attack or resent anyone for truly liking the show. I think I was mad because I expected something different and better than what I saw, and though I wasn’t entitled to seeing exactly what I wanted, I was still allowed to be bummed out and irritated about some plot points, dialogue, and characters.

It wasn’t looking too good for more than half the first season, and below I’ve elaborated on some of my disgruntled tweets. I did only watch the show one time through, and it is very likely my perception would change with the whole story arc in mind, but just like with a screening audience, you only get the first time through for genuine reactions. Here are mine:

Before watching, I tweeted: “like a year ago, i was encouraged to submit an audition for devi or her older sister (assuming, Kamala was the older sister) and it’s so crazy to see the thing you didn’t do (i don’t act, a friend just knew i yell about representation a lot) become your top recommendation. v exciting, unprecedented content!”

PILOT

About ten minutes into it, I felt kind of lame for how excited I got because it was cringey some of its acting, unnatural dialogue, and the narrator being a random white man (tennis legend John McEnroe; this is somewhat explained later, I guess, but remains largely out of place). I thought some of the acting/writing was intentionally weird and bad and forced, like a characteristically exaggerated SNL skit, but it was genuinely how characters in the show spoke. I was watching alone, thankfully, because I think would have sank into my seat if my friends saw how hype I had previously gotten and then forced them to watch so embarrassing with me.

Even if most of the cast is pretty far from being a 15 or 16 old high school student (but not as far as most other teen shows), I can appreciate how mindful the casting was in terms of maintaining the integrity of the characters’ ethnic identities. Devi is played by 18-year-old Tamil Canadian actress and newcomer Maitreyi Ramakrishnan. She is an over-achiever who plays the harp and is involved in a handful of (non-athletic) clubs at school. She has only two friends, who are also socially inept nerds and also girls of colour. Fabiola (played by 20-year old Lee Rodriguez) is Afro-Latinx, wears exclusively men’s polos, and loves science and technology. Eleanor (played by 21-year-old Ramona Young) is an East Asian-American aspiring theatre actress, who is as loud and dramatic, as her outfit choices. They are outcasts with distinct interests. You get that pretty clearly.

Paxton Hall-Yoshida (played by 29-year-old Darren Barnet) is Devi’s love interest — a jock who is not the brightest kid in school and ends up repeating the history class he shares with Devi. His friend group has apathetic-stoner-cool guy energy, so you know, all the stereotypes are in order. He is, as predicted, a white passing, traditionally attractive dudebro. But he is also actually part-Japanese, which was a creative decision added to the character after Barnet’s audition, during which Mindy Kaling found out he speaks/is part-Japanese. So, that’s new, but for the most part, the same formula of high school dynamics is there with some try-hard attempts at diversity.

Devi experiences some intense trauma a few months prior to when the story begins, and then in a somewhat unrelated incident, is struck with leg paralysis. That only contributes to her identity as a social pariah, as the unfortunate recipient of ableist jokes. For whatever reason, while checking out Paxton’s hot body, she stands up out of her wheelchair and can walk again. This is weird and never explained. Did Paxton’s sheer attractiveness somehow work its magic and allow her to regain feeling in her legs? Could the writers maybe have explored her disability more and even allowed this to be a story of how she processed trauma/her immobility while being in love and handling high school? That would’ve been a story we have never seen before, something worth exploring and developing. But the paralysis just stops. I would say don’t even bring a disability into this if you don’t know what to do with it and are just trying to throw something interesting into your story. That’s irresponsible writing.

I very quickly assumed, based on the fact that Fabiola’s character deliberately is shown as someone who doesn’t wear makeup, have any interest in girly things, doesn’t know how to acknowledge cute boys, and dresses like a Best Buy employee, that she’s a closeted lesbian, and part of the show will be about her coming out. Lesbians can’t ever look or act like anything else, can they? And the overtly effeminate closeted gay kid, Jonah, whose first lines are literally “omg where’d you get that outfit? I’m gagged”...he becomes the group gay best friend who also is yet to come out...the absolute lack of subtlety and nuance received one of many tense sighs from me.

Kamala (played by Richa Moorjani) is Devi’s beautiful cousin who receives kindness from strangers and double takes from passersby. Originally from India, as indicated by the Bay Area native actress’s endearing endearing accent, Kamala is studying abroad in pursuit of her PhD at Caltech, which is why she stays with Devi and her mother, Nalini (played by Poorna Jagannathan) in their Sherman Oaks home. She is a career driven woman who is not enthused by the idea of her arranged marriage set-up, which requires her to hide her opinions and passions, a very real source of conflict many South Asian women face in their 20’s-30’s if they come from traditional families. Because she’s a secondary character to the plot operating as a foil to her very flawed, younger cousin, you don’t really get to know Kamala beyond her marriage anxiety, being out of touch with American culture and innocently discovering things like teen slang and Riverdale. (I see you, Netflix.) Nalini is an uptight widowed mother who is just as judgmental, protective, and critical as any stereotypical Indian mom. Unfortunately, Nalini or Kamala do not seem to head towards becoming fully established characters until most of the first season is over.

We also have Ben Gross (played by 20-year-old Jaren Lewinson), the obnoxious son of a hotshot celebrity lawyer, who you know, has to be Jewish, and he makes sure that everyone knows these things about him. He is Devi’s nemesis in all things related to compiling a strong Ivy League college application. He gives off the same grumpy vibe Danny from The Mindy Project does towards Mindy’s character, and I am certain he will be caught in a love triangle with Devi and Paxton, in the exact same way Mindy Lahiri finds herself. The ultimate fantasy, based on Mindy Kaling’s work, is to be a dorky brown girl who has two white men pining over her. I understood her hating her hairy arms and wanting to look like a Kardashian because body image is a real thing young women, of any background, work through, but why do we have to have white love interests. Why does that have to repeatedly be depicted as the ideal endgame for brown women? And specifically in Devi’s case, why is so much of her energy and attention going to boys who disrespect and ignore her altogether?

You can have brown love, you can have mixed love with other people of colour, it doesn’t have to be with a white person every single time. Why was the only desi couple’s romance shown also the one that was cut short by death? Mohan’s character was so loving and present and empathetic, and I feel like audiences are robbed repeatedly throughout this show of many more engaging plot points and storylines.

EPISODE 2

I might be severely out of touch with how sex is approached by teens these days, but the casual propositions and immediate meet ups seem like they were just written to move the story along. The writing feels clunky and almost rushed, and when I think of how quickly this show went from casting call to premiere, maybe it was. 

While Devi is freshening up at Paxton’s house, she runs into Paxton’s adoptive sister, Rebecca (played by 17-year-old Lily D. Moore) who has Down syndrome. Paxton is really protective of her and projects his own shame of people finding out he has a sister with a disability onto Devi. He ends up kicking her out of his house when he finds Devi talking to Rebecca. Again, I think the dynamics could’ve been explored differently and more positively. We really didn’t need to see another sexually awkward Asian girl, a white (or white-passing) jock who lacks empathy and obsesses over public image, or someone with Down syndrome who was bullied for it. I was beyond over the tokenizing of random minorities, like they were just sprinkled across the show for diversity points but not developed meaningfully beyond a few scenes in the entire season.

EPISODE 3

I really can’t stand Devi at this point, and it’s wild to me that the most unlikeable character is the lead, and this isn’t like, in a complicated Bojack Horseman kind of way, where his character has layers and the flaws are meant to be noticed and analyzed and criticized. Maybe that happens later with Devi, but I don’t know if I’m supposed to like her and consider her an underdog we’re all rooting for. Hell, high school me would be bullying her if she was acting like this. She has no redeemable qualities, just a list of extracurriculars and good grades. Her mom hasn’t beat her ass and her friends still tolerate her, and I find myself asking, “WHY?” so often. There’s even a scene where Nalini is thinking of selling Mohan’s old motorcycle to their white neighbour (who looks, as Devi describes, a “discount Matthew McConaughey”), and I worry Nalini too will have a white love interest...also, Devi then yells at her and calls her a “a bitch”, and I’m...appalled. Nalini threatens to beat her, but never does. That is so forbidden and disrespectful, and nothing actually happens to Devi. She just doesn’t get snacks when her friends come over that night...WHAT. You wouldn’t have your phone, snacks, or access to friends for an indefinite amount of time if you just called your mom, loudly and publicly, a bitch.

It gets worse. It will, more than once, get worse.

I had to pause after watching a particularly infuriating scene, and tweeted: “the lead is literally a selfish virgin who resents her friends’ happiness, disrespects her grieving mother, is fatphobic, and told a Jewish classmate she wishes the Nazis would kill him...is this comedy? what an ugly, nasty character to put at the forefront of your show.” Two seconds later, when sent to the principal’s office, she cries, “I’m messed up, I’m just a rude teenager who disrespects her mother.” That morsel of self awareness might’ve been the beginning of a redemption arc, but no, she fumbles so many more times.

Speaking of the principal, and also Devi’s therapist, I noticed that the two black women in Devi’s life who hold positions of power in the school or as doctors aiding Devi in her trauma, are reduced to sassy one liners or being critical/judgmental in their tone (not how principals or therapists should be). The way Principal Grubbs (played by Cocoa Brown) and Dr. Ryan (played by Niecy Nash) were written demonstrated a pretty limited perception of black women and how they speak/support/lead. I was pausing and sighing in disappointment so often at this point, I could not sit through an entire 28 minute episode all the way through. I started to feel like every character of colour was done injustice.

EPISODE 4

This is where it picks up for me a little because it dips into Indian culture a little more, with some accuracy. Devi and her family celebrate Ganesh Puja, a Hindu festival celebrating the arrival of the Lord Ganesha to earth. They pray and they eat, as Devi explains simply to Paxton, when he spots her at school after swimming practice. There is, however, another Indian woman at the event with her, you guessed it, white husband named Ron, who Nalini wants Devi to talk to because he is a college prep counselor known to get his clients into Ivy Leagues.

There’s a scene with Devi’s friend, Harish, that I think is really valuable, and again, another plot point worth exploring that might’ve made the show a lot more interesting and positively impactful. They bonded over how much they hated dressing up and going to these types of events, often mocking their own culture. Harish talks about how he’s changed in college, after seeing how deeply invested and proud his Native American roommate was of his own heritage.

Devi says, “I’m gonna be an atheist, who eats cheeseburgers every day with my white boyfriend”, which I know is supposed to be a joke, but it’s...kind of real, in terms of the characters and life Mindy Kaling keeps depicting to audiences. They’re not proud of or invested in their cultures, they do eat American junk food, and they do have white boyfriends. That’s the joke, but it’s not like she’s ever written an alternative to what white people write, either.

Anyways, in their exchange, Harish makes an important point about how it is an identity to hate being Indian and not like all the cultural aspects of it, it’s just a shitty identity. It puts Devi in her place, and I would’ve liked to even see a show where you focus on someone like Harish who has this revelation because of what he experiences in college and who he meets. The whole show could’ve revolved around reconciling your dual-cultures. Like I said, the high school centric stories are tried and tired, and I wish there was more content on how transformative life after high school and before settling into a career can be. We really didn’t need to see someone continue to be ashamed of their culture and have their entire personality revolve around achieving whiteness. Who’s the target audience for this show? Desi girls who hate themselves? Desi girls who should continue to hate themselves?

Even Ron calls Devi out on not having an identity outside of what every other Indian kid applying to college is doing: scoring high on tests and being involved in a bunch of clubs. She doesn’t want her trauma to define her and be reduced to a college essay, which is valid, but there is literally nothing else going on. She is not interesting or kind, so...

I would’ve loved to see someone enjoying their culture and being an example of someone who doesn’t want to pick between being Indian or American, and that’s what the conflict is, not this rejection of the brown part, where they constantly clown on themselves while in pursuit of a Chad, Brad, or Paxton. If your viewership was thousands of 15 year old Indian-American girls, what are you selling them?

I thought this was becoming my favourite episode, but it got tone deaf again. Nalini offers to give the Hindu pandit a ride, and she says it would’ve been wrong not to because the pandit taking an Uber is like “Modi on Postmates”. This is equating a spiritual or religious community leader (what a priest is to Christianity, rabbi to Judaism, for example) to the current Prime Minister of India, who is a notorious Hindu nationalist proposing the genocide of anyone who isn’t Hindu or converts to Hinduism. Whether the writers of this show are pro-Modi or simply didn’t do their research on the figure, it was a massive red flag to hear Nalini say that.

EPISODE 5

Devi continues to not only objectify Paxton but spreads a rumour about having sex with him and then gaslights him when he clocks her for it by telling him it spread indirectly (because she didn’t correct her friends for thinking so) and that he’s being dramatic when he is rightfully upset...? It’s not empowering or the change in representation I want to see when it’s an Indian girl doing what shitty white men often get away with. That’s messed up no matter who does it. And all the while, she lets other girls in her grade worship her for proving that nerdy girls can get with a hot guy out of their league and vilifies Ben for mentioning the rumour, even though if he hadn’t, those girls wouldn’t have known and immediately considered her their hero...so, when her lies serve her, she soaks it up, and when they don’t because the rumour reaches Paxton, she blames others. Devi sucks, man. 

EPISODE 6

Seamless writing! The writers clearly know how to write for an affluent white kid growing up in Los Angeles County. It follows the perspective of Ben Gross, with Andy Samberg narrating. They stuck to what they knew, they wrote what they knew, and it worked. It wasn’t uncomfortable to watch; it explored family dynamics and aspects of Ben’s personality, and it didn’t really delve into what being Jewish is like, but it’s nice to see there weren’t any anti-Semitic quips. (The bar is on the floor, if I’m saying it’s nice there was nothing offensive in this episode.) 

But yeah, it worked, I understood the character more, and he got indicate the possession of some more redemptive traits that made you wonder where he was headed in this story. That can’t really be said for the POC characters. Although Fabiola and Eleanor finally start to get their own storylines...more than halfway through the season.

EPISODE 7

You’ll probably see again at this point how bored I am of stories indicating a girl is gay by her lack of femininity and a boy is gay by indicating his abundance of it. No nuance, no fluidity — queer kids cannot exist in any other fashion or form at Sherman Oaks High School. And yeah, the fat kid is still being used as comic relief. This will happen a couple more times to lift tension from what could’ve been really untampered, sweet, and powerful moments. No, no, we need a few more completely uncalled for jokes made at the expense of the fat, nerdy kid.

EPISODE 8

I love when Fabiola pops off. Although she too becomes yet another half of a mixed couple with a white love interest, she gives Devi an aggressive reality check. It’s important to note that Devi’s lack of social coordination or a bigger group of friends shouldn’t be attributed to her not being a “pretty, thin white girl” or to her being nerdy; she’s genuinely unlikeable because she’s a bad person. She’s selfish and dishonest. I don’t know why Paxton chooses that moment at the party to extend his empathy or if he’s attracted to girls in vulnerable positions because he kisses her specifically after she expresses feeling abandoned by everyone in her life. Maybe he didn’t want to sleep with her because he was developing feelings and he didn’t want her to be another casual hook up, like the hot, vapid popular girls Zoe or Ben’s gold digger girlfriend, Shira. But Paxton contradicts himself so many times in how he treats Devi that it’s hard to tell. If a girl loses her friends for being awful to them, then plays the victim and opts to mention her trauma only in moments where it serves justifying her behaviour, and you choose to find that to be the moment to kiss her, I question your judgment and what exactly you are attracted to.

EPISODE 9

I should say, I do like Steve (played by Eddie Liu), Kamala’s secret boyfriend. He’s funny and endearing and doesn’t want Kamala to pick between her career and her relationship, nor does he want her to feel like she needs to hide who she is or who she loves. But he does feel insecure about her falling for Prashant, an Indian engineer she is expected to get engaged to and who ends up being unexpectedly attractive. She assures him it’s just a formality to appease her parents to meet him, but Steve and Kamala break up anyways, because he breaks into her room and is too frantic and desperate to lose her and proposes out of fear and jealousy. Kamala and Steve would’ve been a more interesting couple to follow (see again, my point about following romance after high school?) because they are both Asian, but different ethnicities. I think they could’ve been a funnier and enticing pair to approach and develop because of Kamala’s student visa status influencing their relationship, how influential their backgrounds or overbearing immigrant parents might be, how Steve handles his insecurities and if Kamala would feel more likely/obligated to fall for Prashant not just out of religion/ethnicity but because they seem to have more in common and she doesn’t feel dishonest or the need to be secretive around him. There were so many components to their relationship and to Kamala herself that I would have liked to see picked apart a little more. And it took the second to last episode to really see her shine, which was a bummer.

This episode does offer a huge turnaround for me, personally, as it finally digs into the relationship Devi has with Nalini. It can actually be pretty triggering for many South Asian kids who feel disconnected from or unloved by one or both of their parents, and despite it reopening a wound of mine alongside Devi’s, I think it was really incredible to see that specific flashback on television, for probably the first time ever.

EPISODE 10

The parts of the show that are the strongest in terms of writing, emotion, and a good balance of drama and comedy occur too little, too late. There were promising moments that made initial criticism of the pilot feel too harsh to judge the whole show off of, but I don’t think I would take back anything I said. I did tear up, during the last 7-ish minutes of the last episode, which is a pretty big deal. And I’m quite pleased with the journey of Devi and Nalini’s relationship, more than anyone else’s, and I think that’s really special and vital to see more than the friendships and romance because it can be so contentious to be an “Americanized” desi growing up in a house ran by an immigrant desi. And that’s often at the heart of any inner conflict second generation Indian kids (and adults) feel.

I took the advice of giving it a chance, and I think there was more room for improvement than there was real entertainment for me, personally. If it gets picked up for a second season, I’m curious to see what developments will be made and if I’ll feel differently than I do now.

I also didn’t want to give the idea that I wouldn’t listen to or respect opposing opinions or receptions of the series. I know it’s gotten more raves than rants, from what I’ve seen, and I might be just the absolute harshest critic, but whatever the case and thoughts on what I’ve shared, I hope my perspective doesn’t sway you from watching the show entirely or from admitting that you liked it. I just hope it brings into consideration some interpretations you might not have considered or been aware of. That’s all a review can do.

#never have i ever #never have i ever netflix #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #darren barnet #south asian #desi girls #media representation #diversity #qpoc #lgbt #lgbt representation #netflix

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The Domino Effect of COVID

The coronavirus (COVID-19) has sparked national and global discourse and action of varying effectiveness in the past several weeks. The events that are unraveling resemble the plots of films such as Contagion (2011) and shows like Contagion (2015). (And there are much more available for bingeing on Netflix, if you’re being responsible and practicing social distancing right now. But I wouldn’t advise overdoing and over viewing content that might play into your anxiety about the situation.)

Anyways, in many of these fictional films and shows, a mystery virus with no vaccine or cure begins killing people, inciting isolation and in gradually more extreme cases, food and resource hoarding, price gouging (stores dramatically marking up products that are in high demand), and quarantines, self or medically induced. Lack of understanding has historically (and in these made up worlds) caused people to act irrationally, out of fear.

When we don’t have information (or the correct information), we don’t seem to make the best decisions. And our decisions, good and bad, have consequences.

I, like everyone else, have been in a state of information overload, whether it be from Twitter, cable news, posts that are being shared and reshared on Facebook and Instagram, or the unavoidable conversations being had between my friends. This is the most prevalent thing happening in our lives right now. We’re concerned. Even though the vast majority of people are asymptomatic and fully recover, if they are infected, vulnerable populations are in a different boat. These include young children, older people, and immunosuppressed or immunocompromised individuals. In a week, many people who deemed themselves too healthy to take drastic measures to self-isolate might find themselves fighting a disease they underestimated. We can’t take our own health for granted, while gambling with the health of others. Our fates are very much intertwined, and I’m witnessing a lot of western countries simply not prioritize or care about that.

The vulnerable groups identified are characterized by the fact that they do not have the same level of strength in their immune systems to fight off common diseases and infections, much less a novel virus such as COVID-19.

The decision many young people are making to take advantage of cheap flights not only puts them at risk of contracting the disease through contact somewhere between where they live and where they arrive, it puts every single one of the individuals they interact with at risk. The flight to the Caribbean may seem enticing because prices are never that affordable, but that’s because people aren’t flying and measures are being taken to cancel flights entirely. This is a preventative measure that is being contradicted by sales of cheap flights that ultimately won’t be worth it. You could bring that disease (that might not affect you) to vulnerable populations.

The reasons for price-drops, from a capitalistic standpoint, might make sense because airlines, and many other businesses, still need to make money. The tourism industry will suffer, and countries that rely on a tourist economy will suffer if travel is completely suspended or banned, which is what is happening with Europe right now after Italy’s national lockdown. But traveling to other countries also risks exposing people who live there to the virus, if being carried by passengers. And travel bans have existed for years prior, with many Middle Eastern and African countries that Donald Trump blocked out during both crises of health and violence. Refugee crises and the Ebola outbreak in these regions of the world was not met with this much media coverage, and the deaths related to government negligence and xenophobia are echoed once again, this time targeting Asians (even though Asian countries are bouncing back) and Italy was on complete lockdown. People began physically assaulting Asian people on the street and public transportation and stopped eating at Chinese restaurants, but none of that sentiment was directed toward Italian-Americans or Italian establishments? It shouldn’t be happening either way, but this is blatantly racist and it cannot be called anything else. 

And on that note, several points have been brought up regarding what the coronavirus has exposed about American behaviour and our government, and how capitalism is obviously unsustainable. This point has been made before, but it always seems to take a crisis to get people thinking and moving. Capitalism and public health simply cannot coexist. Maximum productivity and maximum profitability does not consider or care about mental health, rest, sick leave, or self care. You sacrifice that to be considered a hard, dedicated worker in America. Taking care of yourself is selfish and lazy.

People risk going to work sick because they do not have paid leave, health insurance, and have not been immersed in a culture that cares about anything other than how productive and lucrative they or their bodies can be. Capitalism exploits the labour of people of colour and lower-income groups more so than anyone else, feeding off racism and classism, because statistically, the least insured/paid and overworked groups are working class people and people of colour. A majority of Americans are both. 

We have been advised to stay indoors and limit contact with others in practicing social distancing, but that does not mean to completely distract yourself from coronavirus updates and conversations. It can be overwhelming to think about it too much, but you also shouldn’t carry on like life is normal, like the reckless individuals who are still going out to bars and parties. Life isn’t the same, the world has changed, and the ones risking exposure this week will be the ones who will show signs of being infected next week because they didn’t listen.

They’re exacerbating the issue, and I don’t know how to convince them to stop, how to implore people to care about the ripple effect of how they respond to this outbreak, aside from writing this. I’m not trying to be self righteous or angry at them but we have to take it seriously, so at worst, a few weeks or months from now, it will look like overreacted. It’s better than under-reacting. Now more than ever, the saying “precaution is better than cure” matters. 

And it won’t be an easy adjustment. It hasn’t been. We weren’t initially well prepared for this, our country didn’t implement strategies to protect us, and that’s not the messaging we’ve been raised or encouraged to abide by in an overly individualistic society that can somehow justify just even the worst in our leadership and in humanity.

You don’t want to swing the pendulum too drastically either way. Complete ignorance that downplays the severity nor complete “it’s the apocalypse, every man for himself” terror will work. Our strength is in information and community. We need to look out for each other because we are our own best shot at containing the spread. The best of us and the worst of us comes out during times like these, and we can prevent it from getting worse or more desperate, from resembling the plot of those films and shows any further. Because it gets worse in those stories. More people die because there was a lack of cooperation, community, and empathy.

The following points have been on the minds of millions these past few weeks, and they are worth some diving into, as well as retroactive accountability on part of our government. The following provides invaluable lessons about how to handle the current pandemic. It’s just a matter of if we, as a people and a government, are willing to learn and save ourselves?

PREVIOUS GLOBAL PANDEMICS

The AIDS crisis that ramped up from the 1960’s well into the 1990’s as global pandemic due to deliberate government inaction killed millions, mostly people of color and gay men. It was largely ignored by leadership and every day people who found themselves personally unaffected. Many AIDS/HIV+ people didn’t have access to affordable testing and continued to infect others because they didn’t know or weren’t able to find out if they were carriers.

The Ebola and SARS crises both happened during election years, shifting media attention away from corruption, rigged elections, and offering themselves as oddly convenient distractions for the American people to fixate on. Media coverage of Obama during the Ebola crisis, however, incited intentional fear and blamed him for its spread and mishandling. However, the Trump administration and media coverage this time is downplaying the severity of the pandemic and defending him from the public’s comments that demand accountability from him and blame him for its spread in the United States. After all, he did fire the pandemic response team in 2018, and then never replaced it. Why?

STRUCTURAL FLAWS

Lack of universal/affordable healthcare and paid time off/sick leave forces people to continue functioning in society, while infected, causing the disease to spread at work and ripple more and more outwards to whoever is coming in contact with a sick person who wasn’t able to prioritize their health or anyone else’s. Capitalism demonstrates its characteristic of exploitation once again by forcing workers to work while sick while also engaging in price gouging to increase business owners’ profits. Low-income people become scared and start panic-shopping and stockpiling items that everyone needs (such as hand sanitizer, soap, toilet paper, non-perishable food). It’s unnecessary, and the more people see others doing it, they think that they need to do it, too. While they clear shelves and hoard resources, they leave others at risk because now, they won’t get what they need to be clean, healthy, or safe. Long lines at crowded stores risk even more exposure of the virus. It is completely counterintuitive. How does socialism end up getting the blame for the direct side effects of capitalism collapsing on the American public?

If people can, after all, work from home, why did American workers and students with disabilities lose their jobs or drop out of school because they were previously told accommodations could not be made for them?

THE PSYCHOLOGY OF FEAR

As mentioned, when people see panicked behaviour, they think it’s serious (the coronavirus is a serious pandemic, but people were treating it like the end of the world long before the World Health Organization or any authoritative body provided facts about mortality, which means new and more serious information is less likely to be met rationally if we’re off to a hysterical start). Panic induces panic. We don’t act rationally when we’re panicking. We’re not worried about other people or reason when we think the world is ending and it’s every man for himself. That kind of thinking, again, works against us and hurts us further, faster, in worse ways. If our daily actions and interactions reduces hysteria, we can flatten the curve. See below.

The use of celebrities and public figures (ones relatively inaccessible for public comment, such as Justin Trudeau and his wife, Tom Hanks and his wife, or athletes because they are in different countries and isolated in one way or another) is further raising fears and concerns. Celebrity news draws attention back to the virus over and over again, in a way that seems a little suspicious. Beloved figures getting sick causes their fans and supporters to worry for them and themselves, which is effective if the public was starting to talk about the virus less and someone wanted us to start worrying again. But how did famous people get tested so quickly and get confirmed to have the virus, when the average American cannot get tested because they don’t have healthcare that covers the test or when doctors and receptionists are straight up telling them to stay home and that they cannot be helped so they shouldn’t come to the office. Or because there allegedly aren’t enough tests available?

TRUSTWORTHY LEADERSHIP AND INFORMATION: 

DOES IT EXIST?

And seriously, why did Trump fire the national pandemic response team in 2018, and never replace them? Why did he call a reasonable question “nasty” when a reporter asked about it? Why is he always demonstrating defensive behaviour and gaslighting Americans who have a right to know what is going on, what the impetus behind his actions (and inaction or delayed action) are?

Does the government trust the American public to receive concerning information about public health? Is that why we were told too late, or that Trump called it a “hoax”? Was this orchestrated to benefit him and allow him to impose martial law at some point after declaring a national emergency? Is he using this to justify what’s next?

Is this proof we’re not able to handle the truth about other things/conspiracies/“hoaxes” (bioengineered diseases, Geostorm-like weather interference that attributes to climate change on top of the excessive burning of fossil fuels, aliens?)

There’s a lot we don’t know. And that’s frustrating because having the knowledge is half the battle. Being fed lies or misinformation, not being given the appropriate response in a timely, orderly manner designed with a country’s safety and sanity in mind...it’s unacceptable. And looking at that long, detailed list of topics above really illustrates how nothing sounds ridiculous anymore. Those points deserve contemplation and investigation.

In conclusion of this post but not of this conversation, we should, without a doubt, absolutely be vigilant and cautious in regards to staying clean and healthy, like any other day and especially during cold/flu and allergy season.

But the virus outbreak did things besides start turning people into germaphobes. It revealed how generally unhygienic Americans were prior to being scared. It peeled back another ugly layer of greed and racism. That scared me more than the virus itself.

But there have also been promising instances of people coming together, helping each other, and we must acknowledge that this happened by the public’s own volition, not government guidance or supplemental aid. The best of people, and the worst of people, was forced out because our government was failing us. And the government needs to get its act together too because it can’t fall solely on the people to beat this.

Dr. Donald McNeil breaks down how a country serious about coronavirus does testing and quarantine: https://youtu.be/e3gCbkeARbY

Everything mentioned so far is also telling us that we also need to be vigilant and cautious in regards to the information we are receiving, the patterns of it, the tendency of history to repeat itself— almost exclusively with the bad parts, and with America as a repeat offender.

The information is there for us to base our decisions and demands off. Hysteria, discrimination, and misinformation kills more people, and faster. And I do take large media networks’ reports with a grain of salt, but something that needs no confirmation is the importance of being clean and considerate. 

We have the capacity to do better. And we have no other choice because we are our own salvation. We are the only ones who can push back on the final domino that is otherwise about to crush us.

#coronavirus #covid19 #corona

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Big (City) Decisions

So you’re thinking of moving to New York City or Los Angeles! Or you’re in one of those two cities already and are contemplating a coastal switch, but haven’t quite figured out if it’s the right move for you.

If you’re like me, you must be someone who likes the hustle and bustle of big cities, the excitement of a never-ending list of experiences you can have based on every film and TV show you’ve seen set here. Maybe you’re moving for a job, school, romance, curiosity, to get closer to something that matters to you. Whatever the reason, I’ve divulged the secrets and the pleasures of these places as a resident, critic, and lover of both New York City and Los Angeles.

I’ll be covering, in the order in which they are mentioned, so you can scroll to whatever feels like a decision-making priority for you:

COST OF LIVING (rent, food, gas, public amenities, etc.)

WEATHER 

TRANSPORTATION

DEMOGRAPHICS

THINGS TO DO

LANDSCAPE

JOB OPPORTUNITIES

CULTURE (validity of stereotypes)

These are all going to be both subjective (according to my experiences) and objective (according to research from government agency websites, market analyses, current listings, recent news, etc.)

COST OF LIVING

Housing

The cost of living (in terms of rent) is cheaper in the city of Los Angeles despite the wealth you may associate with celebrities. Many don’t actually live directly in the center of Los Angeles, or the metropolitan parts you may be imagining. Those mansions or luxury condos are not dispersed alongside the highways that everyone relies on; they are often further out of the nucleus-like concept that non-LA folks might have of the city. You’re likely thinking of Beverly Hills, Calabasas, or Malibu, which exist within LA county’s jurisdiction. The city of Los Angeles makes up about 1/3 of the entire LA county’s population, but there are 87 other cities incorporated into that county.

I hope you’re with me so far. 

Los Angeles is a vast suburb, really, and it’s one of the most scattered cities and counties in America in terms of economic disparities. 

Because of gentrification’s side effects, you can expect to find a studio apartment for around $1800 in Koreatown, Echo Park, Silver Lake, or Angelina Heights. That’s still pretty expensive, so a lot of people rent out houses with 3-5 other people in similar areas of young affluent people in their 20’s. You’d want to live there if you vibe with Williamsburg, the East Village, Astoria even. However, the NYC equivalents can be anywhere between $500 and $1,000+ more expensive for the same square footage.

If you find someplace cheaper or someplace farther out of the city of LA, I wouldn’t recommend it because getting anywhere between rush hour (starts as early as 6am-11am and then again at 2pm-9pm) is ridiculously hard. There are tiny windows of time you have to be lucky to consistently get. The joke about LA traffic being the worst actually ended up being a stone cold fact. According to the TomTom Traffic Index, LA has the worst traffic in the United States, with New York as a close second. I have never driven in New York City, so I cannot attest to that. But in LA, your commute will be insane, and your lower rent in a city or neighbourhood further away from your workplace or school won’t feel worth the sleep you’re sacrificing, traffic you’re enduring, and gas you’re wasting.

New York City’s borough of Manhattan topped the Cost of Living Index’s 2019 first quarter report as the #1 most expensive city to live in the United States. $1,800 would maybe cover your portion of a two bedroom apartment in a “nice” (near transportation, essential markets, low crime) area, but your utilities and groceries would not likely be covered within that. The average millennial or gen z’er cannot afford a studio in Manhattan.

Another important thing to note is that in California, landlords have more legal protections than the tenants. And insurance companies often favour the landowner/property managers over individual tenants. In New York, it’s the opposite. Tenants’ rights and consistent housing groups/informational meetings are much more prevalent, and even though landlords still have a lot of power, you have more laws in place to protect you from unsafe living conditions, damage, and eviction, with the property owner you are renting from being held more liable. For example, in LA, you might have to purchase your own monthly renter’s insurance plan (which can be up to $600 added to your total apartment related expenses), which protects the landlord from any legal action you may seek after a robbery, harmful maintenance problem, etc. In New York, as far as any apartment I looked at or moved in, the insurance was embedded into the lease agreement, as the landlord/management company’s responsibility to you.

Food

Groceries are slightly cheaper in New York City. Produce, especially, costs more in California, despite its agriculture economy. But it being the 6th largest economy in the world alone, like as a state, probably has something to do with why everything costs so much. They have more pricing power to do so.

Both LA and NYC have small and local grocery store chains, as well as Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s. Farmer’s markets in LA are more affordable than in New York, where artisanal whatnot and organic whatever seem more like yuppie purchases. The healthy, green trend and vegan/keto obsession is very much real in Los Angeles, but their farmer’s markets might cater more kindly to your pocket. 

Both cities have a great variety of affordable and diverse food, however. There isn’t a noticeable difference in regards to that, except for maybe which cultures are more prominent in which areas. For example, LA has a lot of Mexican/South American options, as well as East/South Asian. New York has a lot more prevalent Caribbean, Middle Eastern and European options. Street food is wallet-friendly and delicious in both places, too. And both cities will have a vast variety of international cuisine, regardless of what is native/familiar to the area’s demographics.

Gas

If you own a car or plan on having one in either city, the average price for a gallon of regular gas in Los Angeles is $3.59. In New York City, a gallon of regular gas averages to be $2.78. (GasBuddy.com).

Gas is always more expensive in Los Angeles, and the state of California increases the cost the most frequently. People from NYC and neighbouring areas (Long Island, Connecticut, New Jersey) do commute and use cars, but they are going to spend more on bridge and tunnel tolls and less on gas when compared to Los Angeles commuters.

Taxes

Property taxes are much higher in the state of California, and a lot of people actually move out because housing is so expensive. Most people my age and older continue to rent well into their late 30’s and early 40’s, with roommates. It’s not the most business friendly state either, again despite being the 6th largest economy in the world as a state alone. It’s really expensive to own a business here for that same reason. 

New York City actually offers incentives, such as tax write offs and reductions, to encourage new businesses to come to the city. There is an entrepreneurial spirit in both cities, but NYC actually has scaffolding designed to support you, whereas LA is a little more dog-eat-dog.

WEATHER

Los Angeles has a moderate Mediterranean climate, which is dry-hot or wet-cold. It’s never really humid, and it never snows. But it can get up to 100 degrees Fahrenheit, and because its characteristic desert weather, the nights can be pretty cold and chilly, at 30 degrees or lower even if you spent the whole day in a tank and shorts. It is warm and breezy for most of the year, and people are very appreciative of that.

Natural disasters to be aware of that are related to the weather include: wildfires that occur from dry brush, bushes, other plants catching fire and not being trimmed or managed in time and Santa Ana winds blowing flames over a larger area of land; flash floods (and dangerous potholes that can collapse roads and cause hazardous car accidents) from heavy rainfall; dust storms and pollution carried by winds. 

New York City actually experiences seasons, and you can see it happening around you in a really beautiful and romantic way. However, climate change’s impact has led to unusually warm winters, with scary, freezing drops in temperature and snowstorms, as well as intense humidity in abnormally hot summers. Spring and fall have made much shorter visits for the past few years, lingering with humidity and short spurts of heavy rainfall. And the east coast hurricane season can bring floods if the storm travels northeast enough. 

TRANSPORTATION/GETTING AROUND

Like I said, you will almost always be stuck in traffic in Los Angeles, and it is difficult to get around without a car. It’s only bike friendly if you’re traveling within the same neighbourhoods, and because everything important or exciting is often connected to one of three major highways, you will have hard time without a car. Uber/Lyft obviously are really popular, and it’s actually cheaper to budget around $300 a month for ride-share services than it is to make car insurance payments + purchase gas + pay for parking in areas where it is likely hard to even find parking. The Los Angeles metro system is slow and underfunded, and will turn a 10 minute car ride into a 25-55 minute bus ride. They have light rails, buses, and even a subway that can get you to downtown, but they’re not known for their reliability or efficiency. Fares for a one-way ride are a dollar cheaper at $1.75, compared to the ever-rising fares of New York City’s MTA which is currently $2.75. All public transportation in LA is a lot cheaper compared to New York, but what you save in money, you lose in efficiency.

New York City has one of the most streamlined, accessible public transportation systems in the United States, which despite having its flaws (most related to classist fare evasion punishments and price hikes not equating to better service), is a pretty big deal. 

I like to think that the subway acts like an equalizer for all people because literally everybody takes the subway, from working single parents and politicians, and even SNL cast members. Taxis, ride-share apps, and personal cars are used frequently as well, but the city was built with the subways and buses in mind, which makes getting around monumentally more convenient than if you were in Los Angeles. It’s also a lot more bike friendly and pedestrian friendly, as you can walk/bike across the bridges that connect the different boroughs. Because different boroughs are islands, you can also take a ferry that operates on a strict schedule to take you to/from New Jersey and between different boroughs within NYC. The MTA is its own world, with poetry and art and performances, that you simply won’t find in LA.

DEMOGRAPHICS

As of 2018, LA’s population was nearing 4 million people in its area of 509 square miles, and New York is about 8.5 million within 302 square miles, which means that NYC is more densely populated on both fronts. However, it is better organized in terms of city planning and infrastructure because neighborhoods are very distinctly divided up and easily accessible through main streets/avenues, public transit, bridges, and highways.

This makes establishing and identifying neighborhood demographics a lot easier in the sense that within a year of living in New York City, you’ll recognize the characteristics and boundaries of Spanish Harlem, Chinatown, Koreatown, the Ukrainian Village, Little Italy, etc. It is easier to distinguish in Manhattan, but looking at both immigration patterns and historical migration of ethnic groups within New York City, you will come to find that Manhattan and parts of Brooklyn/Queens/Staten Island are very Eurocentric (Irish, Polish, Italian, for example); the South Bronx has a lot of Caribbean/West Indian culture; Queens can be very Asian (Flushing alone feels like I’m in South/East Asia) but also Central/South American; Brooklyn is divided up as more ethnically diverse the more east you go varying from ethnically Jewish communities to folks of Caribbean or Asian or African descent. And this isn’t exclusive, you will find any ethnic demographic living in any borough, because each is so diverse and rich with what I would call a New York-specific sense of cosmopolitanism. It doesn’t feel like you’re going on an Americanized tour through different countries when traveling between boroughs; it feels like you’re entering these countries themselves. The New York identity, to me, appears to be very rooted in this blend and retention of heritage.

Los Angeles is much more spread out geographically, and the boundaries between neighbourhoods has always appeared less clear to me. There is similarly ethnicity based neighborhoods (Little Tokyo, Little Armenia, Little Ethiopia, Little India, Filipinotown), and you’ll definitely know from the surrounding shops, community members, signage when you’re there, but it’s not like there are a lot of banners hanging over street lights or as much street art really claiming that identity like you would see in the boroughs of New York. 

Gentrification definitely impacts both cities, but I think it is happening more drastically and faster with California real estate in cities such as LA. For example, and like the black and brown communities of NYC, LA is pushing out a lot of lower-income, immigrant residents and making room for condos and hipster businesses designed with affluent white people in mind. You’ll see that much more obviously with taquerias closing down and yoga studios opening up. The Spanish style architecture or smaller/older homes are treated as eyesores by developers who want to replace everything with a Black Mirror-like design of chrome, glass, minimalistic white architecture. I see less and less street vendors and mom-and-pop shops for this reason, too, whereas in New York, they can still thrive and you won’t walk for miles only seeing white college students in Birkenstocks because minorities have retained (albeit little) space.

I wouldn’t say either city greatly differs in age, as if one is more accommodating to families, young people, retired folks, etc. than the other. I think raising a family in a metropolis is challenging for logistical and financial reasons, and I think quiet neighborhoods exist more on the outside of heavily populated cities/areas, so old folks obviously won’t want to live in downtown or bar-crawling areas of either LA or NY. But they are both a very exciting, eventful environment for any young person.

ACTIVITIES/LANDSCAPE

In LA, if you are a nature person, you will have access to so much more diversity in environment (desert to the south, beach/ocean to the west, mountains/hiking/snow to the east, forests/waterfalls to the north), but in New York City, you either have forced constructions of nature (Central Park) or you venture out deeper into other boroughs (Prospect Park in Brooklyn, Pelham Bay Park in the Bronx, Flushing Meadows in Queens, Inwood Hill in Upper Manhattan, Snug Harbor in Staten Island are some of my favs). There are a lot of municipal parks in NYC, so don’t worry about not seeing foliage at all. LA is very concrete and industrial, too, and much of the land is developed, but short road trips give you the opportunity to experience different forms of nature and the activities associated with it. And you will see the most gorgeous sunsets of your life in Los Angeles. Unmatched in that regard. (The sun sets in the west, so it has a global advantage, but trust me, they are breathtakingly beautiful and it’ll be hard not to see them again if/when you leave.) 

Equally so, you have concert venues/music halls, sports arenas and stadiums, bars, open mics, theaters, restaurants, sports arenas, look out points, skyscrapers, landmarks, shopping areas for high fashion as well as thrifting, art installations, museums, things you could find in any big city (LA/NYC might have more options themselves, though, compared to other major U.S. cities.)

LA specifically has Universal Studios in the San Fernando Valley and Disneyland to the south in Anaheim, a Six Flags nearby, with NYC not having a theme park at all. You would have to go to New Jersey across the bridge to get to Six Flags. LA is obviously the entertainment hub of the country, so you can take tours of studios, celebrity neighbourhoods, hike the Hollywood sign. There isn’t a lot of scenery in between, though. 

New York City has a lot of gorgeous architecture, and have made an effort to make bus stops and subway stations pretty, even revitalize an abandoned rail line into a tourist and date hot spot (the Highline), and there’s so much beautiful views of the skyline (Four Freedoms Park, Brooklyn Bridge Park, the Staten Island Ferry are free access points to breathtaking sights so you don’t need to pay for the Empire State Building to witness a postcard moment). And for you lovers of plays and musicals, New York City is home to Broadway and if you really want to go there, Times Square. 

LA I would say has a better clubbing scene and nightlife designed for extroverts, with a lot of introverts likely to feel kind of lost in regards to where they can recharge or not experience FOMO. New York City gives you chaos or solitude as you see fit, with its own sections of the city/boroughs for partiers, readers, physically active folks, whatnot. LA is a hodgepodge of randomness scattered across a blob of a city, and you have to put in more work yourself to research spots for your needs and interests because it’s not like NYC, where you could more likely stumble across a hole-in-the-wall place that becomes your fav or just pull up Google maps and find out there’s a dozen options for one activity you want to do within a 10-25 minute walk.

JOB OPPORTUNITIES

Job hunting in California is more competitive because as a state, it has 18 million more people than the state of New York. NYC is a highly concentrated part of New York State, so you would think it would be harder to find work there, but that hasn’t been the case for me in finding part-time work or degree-specific entry level jobs.

Minimum wage just got to $13/hr at the beginning of 2020 in California and is $14.25/hr in LA. New York State’s minimum wage is $11.80/hr, with New York City itself starting at $15/hr for all size businesses.

You still can’t pay rent in either city off that alone, but New York City offers a lot more opportunities for unskilled labour, part-time work, internships, and networking than LA, based on experience and observation and anecdotes of literally everyone I know living in either city. LA bases career opportunities that are entertainment based more from who you know that can connect you to someone else who can get your resume to someone’s desk. Applying online is rarely fruitful with less response and longer waits than in New York City. Maybe because it is more competitive or maybe because your file stays abandoned in a system for years and is eventually forgotten because of applicant overload. (I’m not salty or anything.) In LA, I know people who heard back from tech and production companies over a year after they applied for a position, if they heard back at all. 

In New York City, I have seen a lot of people get hired out of their college internships or make meaningful connections with people in their prospective industry through large-scale networking events and being able to meet with professors, alumni, or mentors who (despite living in such a busy, sleepless city) make time for you and don’t need something from you in return. In LA, it’s like, “What can you do for me? What do I get out of it?” Success is competitive, rather than collaborative in LA. In New York City, I have seen way more people eager to connect and build things together within communities and companies.

Major film/tvproduction, app development, and big industry money jobs are usually LA based. But it’s not like you can’t find that in New York City, which houses the HQ and offices for a lot of big companies as well. I find that (because it’s relevant to my industry/education) that NYC nonprofits, arts organizations, and independent film productions thrive in that city, and LA doesn’t prioritize that as much because they can’t always see the money in it, which is everything’s initial appeal for them, I suppose.

CULTURE (STEREOTYPES)

With that said, LA is much meaner and less sincere than New York! I think the stereotypes got really switched up because although Californians are more chill than New Yorkers, I personally have always found warmth and community in the straightforwardness and welcoming attitude of NYC responsible for why it was easier to call NYC home than LA.

In LA, connections were often built out of convenience and self-serving reasons, whereas if someone is giving you the time of day in New York, it should be taken more seriously. It means more. I find New Yorkers to be more honest, intentional, and capable of longer-lasting, stronger relationships. LA burns people out in a different way that isn’t related to work or noise. It’s like, the pressure to “make it” or “be happy” bogs you down if you’re not feeling like either of those things have happened. NYC is very openly grumpy and irritable, but it’s not forcing anyone to feel something they don’t, if that makes sense. 

NYC can feel really high frequency and stressful because you’ll always hear a siren or party or argument in or around your building it seems. And there is a work hard, play hard dynamic to living in Manhattan specifically. But I found that my personal and social needs could be met somewhere, somehow in New York. I associate LA with a lot more personal scandals, gossip, and exploitation on a larger celebrity scale but also within friend groups and the workplace. 

The homelessness crisis is at its worst nationally in Los Angeles, with classism and abysmal efforts from the city/county not helping it. It’s almost ignored, which ties back to when I said gentrification/the housing market is more ruthless in LA. New York City isn’t perfect, either, and the poor/homeless are criminalized too (see any recent news article related to this and involving the NYPD or MTA, for example). But there are so many more (well-advertised) organizations, community efforts, city programs, etc. designed with the humanity and support of struggling individuals in mind. LA isn’t a happy-go-lucky beautiful movie set. It can definitely be grimy, sketchy, and unkind. I would say New York looks more like the idea you have in your head, with its own set of weirdos for sure. But I felt safer, more capable of connecting with strangers, and welcomed in New York as an out-of-stater than I did as a California native in Los Angeles.

Influencers flock to LA, yes. I have realized that there has been such a weird migration pattern into Los Angeles, especially from the Midwest, because young (white) people move after achieving YouTube fame between 2007 and 2017, Vine virality (2013-2015), or more recently, TikTok. I’m sick of them, to be honest. But if you want to be famous, you will want to be here at some point, I cannot deny that.

I think if you need to feel engaged intellectually, you would find yourself enjoying New York more. I felt more challenged in my creativity, beliefs, and politics in New York. I feel like I got to explore my identity (sexuality, ethnicity, gender) a lot more with people wanting to listen and learn and share in New York. And LA didn’t want to think too hard or care too much. LA does have a less tense/irritable energy about it, it is definitely more chill. Again, because they don’t overthink or care a whole lot. Double edged sword. In general, I have found LA to be more competitive in social status, material possessions, and public image. NYC was more collaborative and curious about the world around it rather than inside its own bubble. 

In a string of word association, I would confirm that LA is: weed, beach volleyball, golden hour selfies, fitness, trendy veganism, and clout-obsessed. New York City is: cigarettes, stoicism, subway rats, creatively provocative, a foodie’s dreamland, and actually lives up to its movie representations.

I absolutely have biases that were littered throughout this, if you couldn’t tell.

I love New York City infinitely more. LA has incredible weather and better sunsets. But that’s not enough. It’s a harder sell, and I’m someone who does work in the arts and film industry and is committed to my social media work who is saying I don’t prefer or recommend LA unless you absolutely have to be there. I pick NYC every time. I moved to/from NYC and CA to become open-minded and explore cities without denying myself career expansion/opportunities. With the perspective and research and experience gathered, it’s less about assumptions and more about facts that in fundamental ways, New York City is better than Los Angeles.

You should 100% make your own decision and have your own experiences, as I can only account for what has been shared and what has occurred on my end. Whether you move to or stay in one of these cities, I hope it nurtures your growth and brings you the happiness, changes, and challenges that serve you.

#los angeles #new york city #lifestyle #vaporwave #anime #aesthetic #manga #LA #NYC