*This review includes spoilers*
My favorite romance movie?
The one during which the girl
dumps the guy at the end and
walks off into the sunset fulfilled
with the knowledge that she is
enough and doesn’t need a man.
“Queen” is my favorite not-so-
typical Bollywood movie. This
movie
shattered
stereotypes
and launched a new era in Hindi
cinema. Of course, some of the
credit for successful women-
oriented Hindi films goes to my
fav, Priyanka Chopra, for her
iconic role in “Fashion” (a project
of which actress Kangana Ranaut
was also a part), but “Queen” was
the movie that did extremely well
at the box office and put Ranaut
on the map. Ranaut has gone on
to fearlessly call out nepotism
and sexism in the industry ever
since.
“Queen” tells the story of Rani,
a woman whose fiancé leaves her
days before their wedding. Despite
her heartbreak, Rani decides to go
on her honeymoon alone and ends
up on a whirlwind journey of self-
discovery and growth. This movie
shattered stereotypes about desi
women and what the trajectory of
our lives should be.
“Queen” is also the least
problematic Bollywood movie I’ve
ever seen. This in itself is quite
an accomplishment, considering
the industry we’re talking about.
Yet, there were still elements of
this movie that bothered me —
the tiny details that perpetuate

stereotypes despite the fact that
the director could have easily
made
different
choices
that
wouldn’t be harmful.
First, there is a moment in the
film when Rani is approached by a
stranger who is trying to help her.
Rani doesn’t know this and all she
sees is a Black man standing near
her and she screams in terror.
It’s a rational reaction for her to
be frightened in the context of
the movie, but it was absolutely
unnecessary for the director to
choose the only Black character in

the film to be the one who scares
her. The image of Black men
in India is permeated with the
harmful stereotypes we see in U.S.
media and accentuated by the fact
that most Indians have never even
met a Black person. Furthermore,
Tim, the only Black character in
the movie, has the least lines and
isn’t given a backstory.
The last scenes of the movie
are some of the best, especially
the combination of the music
and aesthetics. However, these

are the only scenes of the movie
where Rani’s hair is straightened.
Throughout most of the film, Rani
wears her hair naturally curly,
and as a curly-hair girl myself, this
is one of the many reasons I loved
her character so much. However,
the final scenes, when Rani is
portrayed as her most badass and
confident self, her hair is straight.
This sends the subtle message that
straight hair is more beautiful and
somehow more closely associated
with feeling empowered.
The most typical Bollywood
element of this movie is the
flashback showing how Rani
and her fiancé Vijay fell in love
— Vijay essentially stalked her
until she finally agreed to have
dinner with him. This is how
most Bollywood movies go —
women are pursued until they
finally “wear down” and “agree.”
In fact, sexual harassment and
assault in Bollywood isn’t just
limited to what we see on-screen.
The industry itself is also rife with
instances of well-known actors
taking advantage of actresses.
“Queen” was refreshing because
Rani doesn’t end up with the
stalker at the end.
Since
I
first
watched
it,
“Queen” has become one of my
favorite Bollywood films. Though
there are details that I find
troubling, the beauty in seeing a
main character who is strong in
her convictions and unwavered by
society’s expectations is hard to
measure. A movie like this is rare
in mainstream Bollywood, but it’s
exactly the kind of high-quality
cinema I want to see.

Interracial
relationships
haven’t been something accepted
in America for a long time at all. It
was only legalized about 50 years
ago with the landmark Loving
v. Virginia Supreme Court case,
during which a Black woman and
a white man took their wedding
vows in Washington, D.C., but
then moved to Virginia, a state
that banned interracial marriage.
Due to this law, the couple
was indicted by a grand jury four
months into the marriage, and
they were forced to move back to
the place where they had taken
their vows to avoid another year of
imprisonment. Luckily, when the
couple appealed to the Supreme
Court, the case overturned the

conviction and struck down the
law in Virginia.
Fifty years ago is not that
long ago. There are people still
alive who very well remember
interracial marriage illegalization.
However, that being said, there
has still been progress with the
general public’s perception of
interracial couples. Well, most
interracial couples.
The media has played a big
role in this with movies like
“The Big Sick”, “The Incredible
Jessica James” and even the
newest heartwarming romantic
comedy “To All The Boys I’ve
Loved Before”. TV shows like
“The Flash”, “Scandal” and “How
To Get Away with Murder” have
also featured interracial couples as
main plot points. However, do you
notice a pattern with these forms
of media?

These are all some of the most
popular movies and TV shows,
yet all feature a person of color
and a white person. It’s never two
interracial people of color who
come together. In fact, there seems
to be more positive representation
in mainstream pop culture of a
white person with a person of color
than even two people of color from
the same background together!
To give one example of many,
Aziz Ansari got our hopes up in
the first episode of the second
season of “Master of None” when
he found a Black woman he
was romantically interested in.
However, he lost his phone and as
a result communication with her
forever. Of course, he proceeded
to fall in love with a white Italian
woman, and not without the
periodic flux of interest and
disinterest in the South Asian

woman who appeared within the
season.
There’s always an edge of fear
and controversy of calling this out.
Interracial couples and friendships
that are a white person and a
person of color aren’t negative

by any means, and calling this
disparity out doesn’t imply they
are bad in any way. They should
still be encouraged — it’s just that
there needs to be more romantic
and even platonic representation
of what two different non-white

cultures
look
like
together.
Hollywood
has
been
making
great strides in diversity lately,
but as with any institution mainly
founded by people with privileged
identities, there is unsurprisingly
always room for improvement.

When I was 11 years old, I
decided to wear a headscarf. I
knew I would eventually wear
one because as a Muslim, I believe
it’s required of me. While others
don’t, it all depends on people’s
personal beliefs. My close friends
wore one, and so did my mom, so
it seemed like the appropriate time
to take the plunge. When I told my
mom I wanted to wear a scarf, she
took me out to buy headscarves for
girls my age. Before I knew it, the
day came when I chose to wear
one in public for the first time. It
was pretty anticlimactic. My mom
was going to the grocery store, so
I wore a cardigan as I normally
would, and put on my headscarf.
I remember walking out the door,
self-conscious, because it was the
first time I went out in a scarf and
I thought those who knew me
would stare. But nobody did. It
was just like any other day.
I should clarify, however, that
I’m from Dearborn, Michigan.
Dearborn is home to the largest
population of people of Middle
Eastern origin in the United
States and has a large Muslim
population. So, my wearing a
scarf was completely normal, as
many other girls and women in
Dearborn wear headscarves. I also
didn’t feel any different on my first
day of sixth grade, which was the
first time I wore a scarf to school.

The only time I did feel weird
was when I went outside of
Dearborn. People from Dearborn
refer to this phenomenon of the
“Dearborn bubble,” because it’s
like we live in our own protective
shell and I’m starting to realize
the truth of it. When I went to
Twelve Oaks Mall in Novi for the
first time, which is only 35 minutes
away, I remember feeling people
stare at me. I don’t know if this
was because I was self-conscious
because
there
weren’t
many
Muslims around, or because it
actually happened. As I’ve grown
older, however, I’ve learned not to
let people’s staring bother me.
But my headscarf wasn’t the
only thing that made me feel
different from others. While I
may look different from many
Americans, I’m still an American.
On a family trip to Lebanon, I
realized how different my sisters
and I were from my cousins. They
always refer to us as Americans,
because we don’t entirely fit into
their culture. We prefer English
music to their Arabic music, and
we have distinct fashion tastes.
Even the way they style their
headscarves is different than how
I style mine.
Still, when I come back home,
some Americans don’t think I’m
American. In fact, I was once
walking to class when I heard
two voices behind me talking
about how many Arabs (people of
Middle Eastern origin) are boaters
(derogatory term for immigrant)

and don’t understand English.
I wanted to tell them English is
my first language and I was born
here. But either out of fear or not
wanting to give them the pleasure
of provoking me, I just kept on
walking.
I have never felt like I really fit
in anywhere except Dearborn,
where I’m still judged by others,
but so is everyone else. Yet we’ve
somehow created a culture of our
own — a part of the old country
and part of our own country. I
don’t feel like a true Lebanese
when I visit Lebanon, and I feel
different than some Americans in
America. But I’m just like many
people from Dearborn, the child
of immigrants. I hope I find that
same sense of belonging in Ann
Arbor, where I’ve come to realize
people differ in many ways, not
only in their backgrounds. At the
University of Michigan, people
can be whoever they want to
be, without facing judgement
as harshly as they might face it
somewhere else. I’ve found I can
be myself and be welcomed by
inclusive communities here on
campus, such as PILOT. PILOT
is a student-run organization
that works to empower and
make leaders of students from
underrepresented
minorities
on campus. This organization
welcomes each of its members like
family, which is truly an amazing
thing. Inclusive environments like
PILOT here at Michigan, makes
me glad to say I’m a Wolverine.

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
Monday, October 8, 2018 — 3A

Fitting in: leaving home for AA
Bollywood: “Queen” defies tropes

Cultural context and power dynamics: who has the right

How “interracial” is Hollywood’s interracial relationships?

SWATHI KOMARIVELLI
MiC Blogger

EFE OSAGIE
Assistant MiC Editor

KHADEJA JOMAA
MiC Columnist

ZAINAB BHINDARWALA
Senior MiC Editor

CASEY TIN/Daily

Who has the right to say the
word nigger?
Not nigga, with an a, but nigger.
Hard r.
If you’re Black, at this point
into the article you’re probably
enraged
this
word
is
being
published in a news article. If
you’re white, you’re probably just
plain uncomfortable. You can
rest assured though, because the
writer of this article is also Black,
which makes this okay. Or does it?
The word nigger is taboo. Even
just typing the word makes me
uncomfortable. Why? Partially
because it’s a traumatic term
that encompasses years of brutal
history Black people faced at the
hands of their oppressors. Because
it’s ugly and holds too much pain.
Also
because
it’s
practically
forbidden. Arguably it’s one of the
most avoided words in our English
vocabulary, censored before you
have a chance to understand what
someone’s trying to say. But does

censoring it protect us from the
harsh triggers of the word or just
gloss over a history that can never
be erased?
I typically hold the belief that
if you’re not Black, you shouldn’t
say it. Ever. But recently I’ve
questioned this after discussing
the use of the word — and if it’s
okay for non-Black people to say it
in plays and productions — in one
of my classes. I wanted to discuss
my personal opinion on it, which
was a bit hard to do as I was the
only Black person in the class that
day. This blurred the line between
having a fruitful conversation
and taking the role of “educating”
the other white students in my
class, as all the white students
would inevitably look to me as the
definite stance of who deserves to
say the word.
Besides obvious reasons of not
having to be a spokesperson for
my race, I could not provide an
answer. Even among Black people
it’s not clear who deserves to say
that word. I personally think it’s
okay for Black people to say nigger
and nigga because I see it as a

form of reclaiming a word that
was used against them for so long,
taking the power away from it by
making it their own. This follows
same way women have reclaimed
the word “pussy” and “bitch.”

But is it exactly the same
thing? Because the words “pussy”
and “bitch” don’t have the same
cultural significance as the word
“nigger.” And I’m not saying
this to rank the pain caused by
different words as that argument
is virtually pointless, but it’s still
important to note pain is different.

A lot of Black people believe
the word deserves to die because
of the amount of pain it’s caused
and probably also believe it’s past
the point of reclaiming. In 2007,
the NAACP held a “funeral for
the n-word” to lay it to rest and
prevent it from doing any more
harm. Something important to
note is the coffin carried during
the funeral though had the word
“nigga” on the side, not the word
“nigger.” Nigga is the reclaimed,
now colloquial form of the word
used casually among Black people
and in their music. The word
nigger, however, was the actual
contemptuous word used by white
people in the past. But does laying
the word down to rest actually
pave the way for a future without
hate or racial slurs? Or does it even
placate all of those who have been
traumatized by that word for ages?
One good point made by Jordan
Cooper is even if the n-word is laid
to rest, “They’ll (white people) just
come up with other words — like
‘thug.’”
Al Sharpton once said, “If you
call yourself the n-word, you

can’t get mad when someone
treats you like that.” This brings
into question the idea of what
Black people are saying to white
people on how they should be
treated if they call themselves
that word. In my opinion, white
people shouldn’t be looking to
Black people on how to treat Black
people anyway. If they’re curious
then they should just ask us.
Also, because white people aren’t
Black, they definitely should not
be treating Black people the same
way other Black people do. But
that’s a whole other conversation
on appropriation of culture.
The discussion on who has the
right to say nigger is something
that will undoubtedly carry on for
a while. Within Black people it’s
more of a personal choice on who
can say it. Even I, as a Black person,
feel hesitant on whether I have the
“right to say it.” Yes, I am Black
but I’m also a first-generation
Nigerian. My ancestors did not
share the same history as Black
people here whose ancestors went
through slavery. It might not even
be my word to reclaim and I’m

profiting off my privilege as an
African-Black person that allows
me to say this word with which I
don’t share the same history.
But though I don’t share the
same history as my Black brethren
across the diaspora, I still feel the
same pain living as a Black person
in America, in a world that wasn’t
built for me and is so eager to
bring me down. In a world Where
a police officer could take the
life of my brother, cousin, father
and it wouldn’t matter if they’re
Nigerian or “African-American”
Black. In a world where I get
called that word on school trips
for laughing too loudly with my
friends.
Regardless of this, it’s still a
personal choice among all Black
people of who can say it, not
something on which we might not
come to a consensus. At least not
anytime soon.
Despite the significance of
this word though, at the end of
the day this unfortunately might
just become another battle in
linguistics. But one that no one is
willing to have.

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michiganincolor@michigandaily.com for more information.

“[T]he director
could have easily
made different
choices that
wouldn’t be
harmful”

“This follows the
same way women
have reclaimed the
word ‘pussy’ and
‘bitch’”

SADHANA RAMASESHADRI/Daily