Currently, Pakistan is experiencing success on the global scene. When Sharmeen Obaid Chinoy won two Oscars for her short films a few years ago, the trend got started. This gained momentum when British-Pakistani actor Riz Ahmed and Pakistani-American actor Kumail Nanjiani received nominations for Oscars and Emmys for roles in films that celebrated their cultures. When Pakistani musician and composer Arooj Aftab made it onto President Obama’s Spotify playlist and went on to win the Grammy for Best Global Music Performance, the situation got even greater. Then we learned that Dr. Hasnath Khan, a popular Netflix series, would be portrayed by Humayun Saeed. However, the six-episode Disney series Ms. Marvel was the icing on the cake.
The fictional character Kamala Khan, a Pakistani-American teen, finds out she has superpowers after getting a mystical bracelet from her Nani. The Marvel Cinematic Universe and superhero movies are a hugely popular and widely accepted genre. It has been a revelation to witness someone of Pakistani descent fending off bad guys in a tale that is primarily based on the circumstances surrounding Partition and the separation of Pakistan from British India.
It was a running joke among South Asian and Muslim actors that the kind of characters they were frequently givenwase the angry Muslim man or the third terrorist from the left. Muslims have been portrayed by the western media as the prototypical “other” since the 9/11 terror attacks and the Iraq War.
Even thought they may appear on screen, the plot is always set up to depict their religion or culture as being different from the “ordinary” and posing a challenge that needs to be resolved. Regardless of whether they are refugees, victims, or villains, they are never at ease in their skin or as members of the global community.
Ms. Marvel defies this pattern by portraying a regular, mainly cheerful young lady who, like most first-generation immigrants, must negotiate her parents’ more conventional, protective attitude and life as an American high school student in New Jersey. Iman Vellani, a Pakistani-Canadian performer, is a natural, handling her debut with ease and carrying the mantel of a fresh new superhero without a crease in her dupatta-style cloak. The teenage anguish and aspirations were simple to convey, but the smooth, extremely believable transformation from confused girl to superhero was her best win.
Kamala’s pals are a beautiful representation of what it means to be Muslim, Pakistani, and American. Bruno, an Italian-American geek on his way to MIT, is Kamala’s best friend and, whether she realizes it or not, her main supporter. Then there’s Nakia, her Arab-American friend whose hijab isn’t a story device; instead of oppression, she’s running for the masjid board against some powerful older uncles. Kamala’s parents are also decent individuals attempting to raise their daughter lovingly and humorously.
This is a much-needed improvement in the representation of Muslim men on Western television, who are consistently portrayed as violent, domineering, and abusive. Aside from historical issues, Ms. Marvel has been a victory for the vast Muslim diasporas in the West who recognize and appreciate many of Kamala’s hardships. It’s been a godsend for Pakistani talent, allowing international Marvel audiences to enjoy a tremendous mix of music, art, and creatives from a side of the world they don’t normally see through a softer lens. Regardless of what was left unsaid, Ms. Marvel’s usage of the classic ‘Ko Ko Korina’ as a bomb in the action-packed conclusion was a fantastic metaphor for Kamala Khan’s cultural explosion.
