Why I’m Not Watching Quantico
Indian actor Priyanka Chopra had the opportunity to wear her race proudly on TV, and she blew it.
Anytime a person with dark hair and an olive complexion appeared on our TV, my mom would casually ask, “Do you think she’s Indian?” For a few years, I remember Mom was convinced Salma Hayek was Indian — mostly because it would mean there was an Indian on our television set.
Now that someone on TV is legitimately representing our race, I’m uninterested.
I’ve seen the billboards, bus ads, commercials, and trailers peppered throughout my newsfeeds. But I’m not going to watch ABC’s FBI drama, Quantico. Call me stubborn, if you want: I have a problem with the show’s star, Indian singer and actor Priyanka Chopra.
I can hear the collective gasps. But let me explain:
I wasn’t always like this. For example, I cheered when I heard Chopra was collaborating with Pitbull on her first hit U.S. single “Exotic.” Although stereotypical, the song was catchy — it stuck with me like a bug bite throughout the summer.
At the time, I even identified myself with Chopra’s success. Shouting above blaring speakers at nightclubs and bars, I told tipsy patrons, “This singer…she’s Indian, like me!” (I doubt they could hear me, but you get the idea.)
As many South Asian-Americans do when we see someone like us crop up on American television, I did a little research. Priyanka Chopra spent part of her teenage years in the U.S. (Massachusetts, Iowa, New York), which made me all-the-more thrilled to see her breaking into American primetime. But in a recent Buzzfeed column, she said:
“I witnessed a lot of racism and that’s exactly why I came back to India. I was 16 years old. I was called a ‘Brownie’ and some even told me, “Go back to where you came from.” At that point in time, I couldn’t deal with it. So when these international opportunities came to me, beginning with my music, I decided to try and bring relevance to Indian talent because I was given the opportunity.”
My reaction:
It gets worse:
“When they (ABC) came to me for this deal about some show, I told them very clearly that I’d do it if you cast me as an ethnically ambiguous part. I mentioned that the fact that I am an Indian should have nothing to do with the story, cast me an actor. And they did. They found me a part which is half Indian and half Caucasian. I play an FBI agent and the story has nothing to do with my big family or me wearing henna or any of those stereotypes.”
I normally hear at least two arguments when talking with others about a POC on television (I realized this when many of us began discussing the lack of “race talk” on The Mindy Project):
- If there’s a POC on that show, that character should make it a point to address her race or ethnicity — and do so in meaningful ways.
- If there’s a POC on the show, that character shouldn’t talk about his race. He’s a person above anything else, and there shouldn’t be a spotlight on the color of his skin.
From a personal and an industry perspective, I understand both mentalities. But it boils down to this: if your race or ethnicity never came up negatively in your life, then you’re probably living in that second argument.
When someone mentions my race, it’s like that feeling you get right before spraying antiseptic on a wound: you know it’s going to hurt, but you’re not sure how much.
I have mental (and some physical) scars from life-altering moments when my race played a hugely negative role in my upbringing. My race has been a reason men haven’t dated me. It’s been a reason I get pulled over by cops, stopped at airports, pushed on a dance floor, and kicked out of classes.
So, yes, I’m bothered when a famous South Asian celebrity tells me she left the U.S. because someone called her “a brownie.”
Priyanka, girl: you had that luxury!
I live here. America is my home. When someone once called me a “sand ni**er,” I couldn’t leave. And actually, I didn’t want to leave. There’s a lot of angst and frustration, yes, but there’s also a moment when you realize that as a country, we are better than this.
Given the chance to be in Chopra’s designer shoes, I hope I’d never whitewash my character to be “racially ambiguous.” I’d like to think I’d wear my race proudly and meaningfully on television — as much as American television would allow, of course. No, that doesn’t necessarily mean wearing a sari or henna while training to be a government spy, although it could (Hollywood…you writing this down?). At the very least, it does mean being publicly proud to be an Indian woman on American television in a bad-ass role.
To date, Priyanka Chopra is dealing with her race the way elementary school children might. She reminds me of myself when I was a kid and first realized the sting that comes from racism: hide your race, don’t talk about it, don’t make it “a thing” — when, in fact, it is a great thing.
Further Reading:
- The Cultural Politics of Colorblind TV Casting by Kristen J. Warner
- Indian Accents: Brown Voice and Racial Performance in American Television and Film by Shilpa S. Dave
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