When Mindy Kaling’s hit show, Never Have I Ever was released in 2020, I had by a character on screen. So to say I was excited for season two, would be an understatement.
The new season sees the introduction of Aneesa to the ensemble at Sherman Oaks High. But main character, Devi Vishwakumar (played by Maitreyi Ramakrishnan) doesn’t take too kindly to the appearance of a new Indian girl at school. She feels immediately threatened by Aneesa (played by Megan Suri) who she feels is both prettier and cooler than her.
It’s a feeling that many Brown first-generation kids will relate to. If, like me, you grew up in a Western country, but your parents did not – you grow up learning that many spaces will tolerate diversity, but only to a certain extent. One Brown girl in the classroom is welcome, but two Brown girls and suddenly the classroom teacher is stumbling over the fact that there is more than one student with a multisyllabic name that they must remember.
It’s a reality that is played out during the scene where we first meet Aneesa. After Aneesa thanks well-meaning history teacher Mr Shapiro for welcoming her to the school, he says; “You’re welcome Devi.” Realising his mistake, he quickly backtracks, only highlighting the microaggression that has seen him mix up the names of the only two Brown girls in his class.
But the interaction also demonstrates the reasoning behind why so many Brown kids feel the need to compete with their peers. As long as we’re going to be compared to each other, we must prove that we can be better.
Growing up, I can recall hearing the whispers of classmates about my lack of second-language skills, of my being white-washed. Because I lacked those skills that would have ‘legitimised’ my Sri Lankan heritage, I tried to compensate in other ways.
I would present projects about Sri Lankan history in class. I would talk enthusiastically about my summer holidays spent visiting Mum’s family in India. If I couldn’t be ‘Brown enough’ I could at least make sure that I was trying to compete.
If I couldn’t be ‘Brown enough’ I could at least make sure that I was trying to compete.
The one-sided rivalry in Never Have I Ever develops similarly, as Devi attempts to assert her Indian-ness over Aneesa. “I get a self-hating Indian vibe from her. I bet she doesn’t have any Indian friends,” Devi says in episode four.
Ironically, she later complains to her mother that everyone at school is saying that she and Aneesa should be friends because they’re both Indian. What follows is an interaction that all Brown kids know all too well. Devi’s mother forces her to invite Aneesa over for a sleepover, saying “Maybe this Indian girl will be a good influence on you.”
But when you’re a first-generation kid, ‘being better’ means different things in different settings. At home it means being the perfect Brown daughter. At school it means shedding the trappings of our familial culture and fitting in with the mainstream.
Eventually, Devi and Aneesa’s friendship develops from rivalry to comradery. For me, it was the most relatable moment of their relationship. Devi realises that the cultural knowledge that they share uniquely places them to understand each other’s life experience.
Her misplaced desire to compete with Aneesa has gotten in the way of the ‘Brown girl sisterhood’. Seeing Devi realise the beauty of that sisterhood on screen is a huge moment for Brown girl representation. When I reflect on my own high school experience, the need to compete kept me from finding that for myself.
The idea that I didn’t have a ‘legitimate’ claim to my Sri Lankan heritage because I was simultaneously trying to fit in with my white classmates persisted. I knew, even then that I would never be fully embraced as Australian because of the colour of my skin. But I was still plagued by the question of whether I had any right to claim space as a Sri Lankan woman.
I never thought to ask the other Brown girls about their families, languages or cultures. None of us realised the potential to learn and grow alongside each other.
Seeing that sacred sisterhood mirrored in Devi and Aneesa gives me hope that young Brown girls will grow up appreciating its importance.
Learning to live in that in-between space has been a slow process, gently encouraged by my Brown friends; the ones who have stuck by me since high school as well as the new friends I’ve made since leaving school.
Being able to bond over the similarities in our families and cultures has made room for us to talk about the struggles and joys of growing into young Brown women. Seeing that sacred sisterhood mirrored in Devi and Aneesa gives me hope that young Brown girls will grow up appreciating its importance. And ultimately give them permission to wholly embrace and celebrate their identities.
