MY nephew, now 9, and I have been watching one of the 11 Star Wars films for the last three years whenever we are together. He didn’t think anything of the British-Pakistani actor Riz Ahmed playing Bodhi in Rogue One, whereas the rest of us celebrated this first. Bodhi’s ethnicity doesn’t figure in the film. There are many other firsts for Pakistanis in the creative arts which have paved the way for a new normality.

When I was nine, the closest I got to some sense of representation — without knowing what it meant — was watching Alyque Padamsee play Jinnah in Gandhi in 1982. I watched it as part of my history class and remember feeling upset at Jinnah’s portrayal. Pakistan seemed like a last-minute inclusion in the film. Fast forward to my first job as a journalist at Newsline in the mid-’90s; there was so much controversy about Christopher Lee playing Jinnah but the film went ahead.

That could not happen now and it is a good thing. Today you see pushbackagainst the constant portrayal of regressive storylines in dramas or the casting of a man to play a transgender character. Of course, this pushback will cause conflict among those who have created and enforced a social order, and do not want to give new voices a seat at the table.

I believe audiences want to see themselves in stories and visuals, and I’m including the news in this, too. Marginalised communities aren’t adequately represented, which widens the gulf in people’s understanding of their issues.

Filmmakers should be allowed to tell stories that unmask stigmas.

But sometimes seeing yourself on screen can also go wrong, as happened with Yashica Dutt, author of Coming out Dalit, who saw her story in an episode of the Indian series Made in Heaven, the second season of which was released recently. The episode in question portrays an inter-caste wedding of Pallavi Menke, a scholar at Columbia University who reclaims her Dalit identity after years of hiding behind an upper-caste name. Her marriage into an upper-caste family in India is riddled with power and class dynamics. These are rarely talked about on screen and many people have hailed the episode, which was directed by Neeraj Ghaywan, also Dalit, for the assertion and resistance shown by Pallavi.In a tense exchange of words with her fiancé about the kind of wedding they should have, Pallavi says, “everything is about politics”.

But for Dutt, the opening scene cuts too close to home and, as she wrote on Instagram, was “taken without permission or credit”. While the director Ghaywan credited Dutt as an inspiration for the episode in a social media post, and Dutt herself called the episode a “cinematic triumph when it comes to showcasing what it truly looks like for a Dalit woman to take her power back in the casteist society”, she wants to be acknowledged in the end credits. The producers felt otherwise and issued a strong rebuke denying any appropriation of Dutt’s life. This controversy has evoked diverse opinions and thoughtful discussion across caste lines. Dalits are sharing stories about the discriminations they’ve faced, and also asking whether any individual should speak for a community.

For readers in Pakistan not familiar with the caste system: Dalits are the lowest in social hierarchy. They have historically performed jobs like manually removing human waste from sewers. Although India outlawed caste discrimination in 1950 and manual scavenging in 2013, both continue. India also created a quota system for lower castes to give them more opportunities.

One of America’s greatest public intellectuals, Cornel West, was quoted by the Associated Press as saying he felt a kinship with Dalit activists, and called racism and casteism “institutionalised forms of hatred.”

Lest any sense of gloating set in, I’d like to remind you about Pakistan’s shameful “institutional form of hatred” that makes its citizens rob others of their right to self-identification. Further, linking that to citizenship — and even marriage certificates, as attempted in Punjab last year — legitimises hatred. We are seeing this hatred play out across Pakistan in the form of brutal violence against peaceful communities trying to make ends meet like every other person right now. Yet they are only seen when acts of violence are thrust upon them. Our response to Christian persecution in Pakistan does not elicit the same reaction as does violence against Muslims in India.

I do not know how this institutional prejudice can be arrested, given the government’s head-in-the-sand approach.However, I believe filmmakers may have answers if they are allowed to tell stories that unmask stigmas.We have, after all, a rich history of thought-provoking dramas on social ills. I have no doubt of our ability to do it again. There is an audience desperate for these stories.

The writer researches newsroom culture in Pakistan.

Twitter: @LedeingLady

Published in Dawn, August 27th, 2023