All human beings have this utmost desire to see them getting reflected and to hear their stories. To be ensured that they are not alone, they are not the first and the only. Everyone tries to find a part of themselves in stories. Relating to a character brings this otherworldly feeling of being seen in a community. Recognition and acknowledgment are why representation – true representation- is necessary for media. Whether it be movies or books, we tend to look for characters who are like us and with whom we can relate to.
Representation in media is an important measure in our diverse society to make people feel wanted and prevent any form of ghettoization. Race, ethnicity, sexuality, skin color and economic background segregate factors between different sections of people. When the minority is highlighted in the media positively, stereotypes are shattered, and a new picture is painted for the younger generations who are constantly exposed to the age-old stereotypes. We understand ourselves through a social lens. Hence, it is necessary to have images and characters that we can relate to, knowing how we fit into society. When we see ourselves being shown in a positive context, we get empowered knowing that we can be those positive people too. Instead of feeling “different” and out of place, minorities and marginalized groups need to know that they are celebrated, loved, and accepted as they are, without any filtering or adjustments. They are a part of the world, a valuable part.
However, while representing minorities, it should be kept in mind not to create a caricaturist version laced with all the stereotypes associated with them. Failing to portray all types of individuals accurately deprives them of the opportunity to share their stories. Their view is erased, and they are silenced. It is unfair for them and the rest of us as it leaves us narrow-minded and ignorant of our brothers and sisters. The lack of true representation is evidence of our lack of empathy and understanding for others. Also acts as a mirror of our biases. False or negative representation pushes ancient narratives onto people while making those wrongly represented feel disgusted by their identity.
Most of our stories show heterosexual, muscular, conventionally good-looking males as powerful heroes pushing the notion that people who do not fall in that criteria will have to settle for part of the side character their whole life. Rarely do we see other types of people being the ‘hero’ and saving the day. This creates unrealistic high standards that we set for ourselves. Indian stories focussing on Dalit, queer, economically deprived people are so very uncommon.
There is that ‘makeover’ scene in a number of films that changes an ‘ugly’ girl completely and makes her ‘beautiful’ when all that is done is that the skin color is changed from brown to white. Several times we have seen that side gay character that walks and talks in a specific manner and whose sole purpose is to add humor using stereotypical homosexual jokes. Rarely do we have Dalit characters as the storyteller and the main character. Own voices stories are needed desperately for accurate representation. For that, these people have to take center stage in our stories. The stories with token representation unknowingly or knowingly misinterpret the marginalized with their lack of nuanced understanding of everyday discrimination, oppression, and deprivation. In the process, they have capitalized and stripped the marginalized of their dignity.
Some people who did try to represent the oppressed voices were severely censored in the past or not given enough recognition. Dalit actors are not being cast as the main characters, movies like Pa Ranjith’s Kaala (2018), Mari Selvaraj’s Pariyerum Perumal (2018), and Nagraj Manjule’s Fandry (2013) go beyond simply representing Dalits and presenting them in a positive light do not have recognition among the public.
Any mention of sexuality in popular media, while not illegal, is frowned upon. As a result, there’s been little available in the way of literary gratification to the queer community too. However, in the past, there have been people who went against the wave and spoke up. Suryakant Tripathi Nirala, wrote a funny autobiographical account, “Kulli Bhat”: which is the story of the scholar Kulli Bhat. Besides courting the author, Bhat also entertains a love affair with a Muslim woman. Portraying a bisexual character made him a target of much hate and anger. When Deepa Mehta’s Fire was first released in 1996, members of the Shiv Sena, Bajrang Dal, and BJP, among others, vandalized and burnt posters smashed glass panes. They attempted to shut down screenings to protest the movie. Based on Ismat Chugtai’s Lihaaf, Fire is about the blossoming relationship between two young women played by Shabana Azmi and Nandita Das. This mainstream portrayal of a homosexual relationship between two women triggered many people across the country. However, since the 2018 court judgment, there has been a significant shift in the production of more-inclusive content. Several books with gay and lesbian themes were published, including Vivek Tejuja’s memoir, So Now You Know; Amruta Patil’s graphic novel Kari; the first Indian LGBT young adult novel, Babyji, by Abha Dawesar.
All of us want creators not to limit marginalized characters in specific slots. We want their personality and a full-fleshed-out version of themselves. A character whose only trait is being queer or Dalit or a brown-skinned person strengthens stereotypes. Works focussing on the community's struggles, family lives, and relationship dynamics – and shining the spotlight on them as likable and human protagonists instead of accessories placed on-screen for entertainment are the need of the hour.
We want stories that mirror our lives, our best moments, our worst moments that celebrate who we are teach others to know about us, our daily struggles and obstacles, and give voice to our unheard and oppressed voices. We want stories that truly and unapologetically represent us.
Comments