Bedfellows

Tags

broad city, comedy, entertainment, film, new york, short film, silent film, women

Sometimes, when you live with someone, you have to make sacrifices.

The Hindu Holidays

Tags

comedy, diwali, durga puja, film, girls, indian, navratri, sketch, video, women, youth, youtube

Durga Puja, Navratri, Dussehra, Lakshmi Puja, Diwali – how is it that so many Hindu holidays seem to fall around this time of year? If you’re anything like PromRad (Proma + Radhika), you’ve wondered. We tried to figure it out…and got a little distracted:

WRITTEN BY: Proma Khosla and Radhika Menon
DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY: Shachi Phene
SPECIAL THANKS: H&M (Proma actually bought some of those things)

Missed Mindy Connections

Tags

ann arbor, barnes and noble, books, celebrities, club monaco, fail, george clooney, is everyone hanging out without me, jason segel, mindy kaling, missed connections, starbucks, the five year engagement, the ides of march, why not me

by Proma Khosla and Radhika Menon

JUNE 2011 | Pretty in Pink: Main St., Ann Arbor, MI

In the summer of 2011, we found out that a movie starring Jason Segel would be filmed on our college campus. It was one of our first brushes with celebrity – we were big fans of How I Met Your Mother and our campus had just hosted the elusive George Clooney for a movie shoot with Ides of March. But this wasn’t like Clooney’s shoot, a mere week in the middle of another unforgiving Michigan winter. This was #springinaa, our sophomore year spring term – a few months of minimal class and maximum time spent outside, watching movies, and taking in the campus.

On one fine spring day, Segel’s film shoot was scheduled between Main Street and Ashley. We clamored to the location after a particularly dry Communications Studies class, sweating in our summer dresses while the crew cleaned up fake snow from a previous scene. We saw the tell-tale equipment trucks, the boarded up windows of the fancy restaurant, the craft services table…but no one famous. The shoot was taking place indoors, with crew members popping in and out of the restaurant. One in particular caught our eye: our old friend ‘Gob Preen,’ a very cute and very well-groomed young man who we assumed was in the crew, but turned out to have a small role in the film.

As we admired ‘Gob Preen’ from afar (and sometimes aclose), the door of the restaurant opened. We wouldn’t have cared who it was, but this time, it was an Indian person in a pink top and high heels – it was you.

We gasped when we saw you. We clutched each other and sputtered sounds that resembled your name and few other words. We managed to grab our camera and take a photo of you walking away from us, but we were too stunned, too star-struck to mobilize. You didn’t notice us hyperventilating only feet away from you, and kept walking.

Moments later, we were kicking ourselves. We should have talked to you! We should have run up, even if there was tape barring us from meeting you. We should have told you what you mean to us, how much we admire you, and how wonderful of a surprise it was to see you here, in our town. We scrambled to our feet to do just that; we ran to where you had just been and looked for you, fruitlessly. You were gone.

You were Mindy Kaling.

MARCH 2014 | Clear Eyes, Full Bladders, Still Lost: Club Monaco in Flatiron District, New York NY.

Redemption is an amazing thing.

Or so we’ve heard.

Redemption was going to be a great thing. In March of 2014, redemption was to be ours. You announced that you were having a book signing at Club Monaco – an interesting choice, for sure, but no matter – we were going to meet you! Finally, after years of waiting, after endless regret…REDEMPTION.

We left work as early as we could. We got in line outside, prepared to brave the cold because in the end we would be greeted by the warmth of your smile and soul as you took us into your waiting arms. We got ourselves hot chocolate from a mildly irritated Starbucks employee, and we tolerated the chatter of everyone around us who think they get it (they don’t).

After several hours, what little magic there was was lost. The sun set, and the cold was bitter. We weren’t dressed for this – no one knows how to dress in March! Starbucks had started refusing us use of the restroom (though they would still let us buy hot drinks, thus creating an extremely unpleasant situation). But we were half a block from the door. We had come this far.

Alas, it was as far as we would come. A rep came outside and told us that they had reached capacity, that you were done signing for the night. She cut off the line and told us to leave.

At first, we were in shock. Then the shock turned quickly to anger, and then all of it turned to cold because we were so damn cold. We spoke to the employees of Club Monaco in outrage, as if a clothing store should have any idea how to run a book event. We even caught a glimpse of you, waving and getting into your car, but even that could not balm the pain of the evening. You drove away, leaving us freezing and sad, leaving our books unsigned.

You were Mindy Kaling.

SEPTEMBER 2015 | Barnes & NOPE: Union Square, New York NY

This was it. This was finally our chance.

You released your second book in September 2015. Eagerly, we pre-ordered our books on Amazon, excited to have the books in our mailbox the very day it released. With every book release comes a book tour, and we scoured the Internet day and night for your tour dates. Patiently we waited for New York dates to be announced, and we were in luck! You were doing a talk at the Upper East Side YMCA with Tina Fey…for $60. You know we don’t have $60! So we waited. We knew you’d have another event.

Seeking redemption (again), we heard about your book signing at Barnes & Noble Union Square. We set reminders in our phones, put time on our calendars. We canceled prior engagements for that day and planned how we would leave work early, line up, get wristbands, and fake our B&N purchases that were required for admission.

Five days before the event, as we started to stress about logistics, we received a text. It was a screenshot of your Instagram, which we follow anyway, of you holding up a sign that said “Sorry, NYC!” NYC. That’s us. You were apologizing to us because you had to cancel the event.

Words can scarcely describe the betrayal and abandonment. It wasn’t you whom we felt betrayed by, but the universe – the very thing that brought us to you and made our love seem more and more real was now actively trying to keep us apart. Would it be so catastrophically awesome if we met that the Universe wasn’t ready? Would it be so amazing that cosmic forces needed more time to prepare? We don’t care about cosmic forces. We are prepared. And we were thwarted, once again, in meeting you, our fave.

You are Mindy Kaling.

Pillows & Possibilities

Tags

expectation, fiction, hope, love, nonfiction, possibilities, prose, romance, situation, tension, women, youth

New post on storiesfromplaces: Pillows & Possibilities

Introducing: stories from places

What if places had memories? What if walls had ears and eyes? They would catch countless glimpses into people’s lives – snippets and chapters lacking any real context. In this new series (though it’s an old idea of ours), we imagine what the walls would see and hear, and what the few moments they witness say about those who pass through.

My first contribution: Blood & Pizza.

Fandom Favorites Volume 2

New post on Fantastic Fandoms! What we’re into right now…

Fantastic Fandoms

Looking for a new TV show to watch, podcast to listen to, or book to read? We’ve got your back. Here’s what we’re into right now at Fantastic Fandoms.

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Confessions of a Fangirl

Tags

essay, fandom, fangirl, personal

Fangirl.

It’s one of the most charged, misinterpreted, reconstructed, and versatile words in pop culture. It describes everyone from the lines at Comic Con to the audience of a One Direction concert; it’s a word that marketing and strategy teams are trying to define, and not to mention the incredibly appropriate title of an excellent Rainbow Rowell novel. “Fangirl” simultaneously describes and rejects everyone, and it’s unclear who should take ownership of the term, or how.

I first diagnosed myself as a fangirl in 2005, when I rapidly became so obsessed with MuggleCast that I imagined myself participating in the podcast, chatting with the hosts, and inevitably becoming one of their best friends and part of the coterie of Harry Potter nerds discussing our fandom on the air every week.

My tiny corner of the internet comprised of fellow MuggleCast fangirls and boys, and together we engaged in the unspoken agreement that it was okay to listen and relisten to a Harry Potter podcast, that it was okay to be fans of fans because whatever we were, we were in it together.

It took less than two years for “fangirl” to change from our badge of honor to our secret shame. In 2008, “fangirl” was an accusation; we spoke it ourselves, voices dripping with disdain, for the people who flocked to podcasters and musicians and people we were cool enough to discover and befriend years earlier.

In 2009, StarKid appeared on the Internet and created an enormous fanbase — but at summer conventions, the lines, crowds, and screams of the fangirls were something to be avoided and afraid of. Beware of the fangirls, we heard and repeated. As if they could do anything to us besides singing, laughing, and crying (with joy) — emoting, how dare they.

I was a huge StarKid fan — quoting AVPM multiple times a day (it simply seeped into my lexicon and has never left) and wanting to work with the creators — but when I heard the term fangirl, I recoiled.That’s not me, I’d think. I’m in college. I’m (allegedly) an adult. I just love their content and think we’d be great friends! That’s not a fangirl…right??

What is the difference between a fan and a fangirl? Why is it so normal, so en vogue these days to be a fan, yet so alien and cautionary to be a fangirl? Why do marketing teams and media outlets describe fans as co-creators, yet seem unable to fathom the inner workings of the mind of a fangirl?

Why is it bad for a fan to express passion like a girl?

Modern fandom culture is built around the idea that unbridled enthusiasm is both accepted and embraced. Scream as loud as you want. Smile, cheer, cry, geek out, because this place — this convention, this chat room, this website — is a safe space to love the people and things you love without judgment. When fans judge each other, we undermine the entire spirit and foundation of our community.

I refuse to demonize anyone for unabashedly loving something. The things we care about are as much a part of us as people, places, and events. Some people are louder, prouder, more emotional in the way they manifest their enthusiasm — and that’s totally fine. Be proud of what you love — chances are that you’re in good company.

This post was original published on Fantastic Fandoms. 

So You Think You Can [Bollywood] Dance

Tags

bollywood, dance, fusion, so you think you can dance

I am so over seeing Indian and Bollywood dancing on American television.

It’s been a long time coming, but I’m finally just…done. This week, contestants on So You Think You Can Dance performed a “Bollywood” dance routine, now a staple of the show, to the usual wild applause from the audience and cautious praise from the judges. To be fair, the contestants were great. They are excellent dancers and performed the routine to the best of their ability. But no amount of arbitrarily loud costumes or wild hand gestures can distract from the real problem here.

Bollywood dance is, slowly but surely, becoming mainstream. I love that I don’t even have to explain the word in most settings now, because people have come to understand a general aura of Indian films and music. But if you learned about Bollywood from So You Think You Can Dance or some other network reality show, or literally any avenue other than actual Bollywood movies and the people who watch them, then chances are you don’t fully get it. Indian culture is being commodified for Western television audiences, and it needs to change.

This was thrown into pretty sharp relief for me in April, when my college dance team auditioned for America’s Got Talent. At this time, I was still living in my Global-Bollywood-Bubble; people know what it is and understand the arts and oh, what a time to be alive!

The kind folks at AGT were good enough to give me a reality check.

It seemed promising enough; a college-level Bollywood dance team flown out to LA to audition for a huge television talent competition. AGT was an opportunity unlike anything I’ve received or likely will receive again. Just to be there with my former teammates was a joy in itself, whether or not we advanced.

Spoiler alert: We didn’t advance. Which is more than fine, except for the comments of one Howie Mandel.

After our performance, the judges were mostly kind; you guys are good and you have the right spirit, but you aren’t professional. Fair enough, since we are literally not a professional dance team. Even college students whose evenings are consumed by these rehearsals can’t take that much time away from becoming doctors, engineers, and irritable writers.

Howie Mandel felt the same. “We’re all familiar with Bollywood dance,” he said, and we grinned and nodded, still high from the adrenaline of our performance. “You know, we all saw ‘Jai Ho’ and Slumdog Millionaire a few years ago.”

The buzz was almost instantly killed. Indian dance team members have only one reaction to being compared to “Jai Ho” and that is eye-rolls and laughter (at best). But we were being recorded for national television. We were representing our school, our team, our culture. We had to be exemplary.

We tried.

But faces fell, eyebrows were raised, quizzical looks exchanged. Did he just compare us to a song with notoriously simple and boring (but fun!) choreography? Most troublingly, has Howie Mandel not been exposed to any sort of Indian culture since 2008?

He went on to tell us that we did not look like a professional Bollywood dance team. Which is all fine and well, except that there are no professional Bollywood dance teams with which to compare us. Or rather, there are, but I’m betting that Howie Mandel hasn’t caught those groups on tour since his self-imposed post-2008 cultural cleanse.

My takeaway from our AGT performance was having to stand up on stage, forcing a smile, while a white man who saw a movie one time proceeded to confidently tell me how my culture was supposed to look. The same happens every time I see one of these performances on reality TV now and I cringe.

One of the judges told SYTYCD contestants that people need to be educated about Bollywood, and that its inclusion in these shows supports that. All I know is that suddenly more people think they understand me and my art. It’s booty-shaking! It’s the lotus hands! It’s all fun and games and not ancient art forms or emotion that I’ve had to genuinely dig deep to get understand and portray on stage.

If anyone is at fault, it’s those of us in the position to be cultural ambassadors of these arts. Indian dancers and choreographers cannot just get excited about being on television and tapping into the coveted wider Western audience. We need to stop selling ourselves short and dumbing ourselves down to be accepted. We need to dance our fucking hearts out, then see if the world can keep up.

I Would Like To Remove You From My Professional Network

Dear LinkedIn executives,

Greetings. I joined your website some eighteen months ago, during an internship at Comedy Central which I did zero networking to get. It was peer pressure, you see. My friends at school were all business, engineering, pre-med. LinkedIn was their lifeblood, the currency of their careers. They used it to stalk the legitimacy of the competition, the way I read a hot girl’s tweets to see if she’s funny and therefore a true and horrific threat. I was advised to join LinkedIn, if only for the sake of it. “At least you’ll have one,” they’d say. “You should at least have one.”

That was all fine and well, but I’m writing to you regarding an incident that occurred to me while visiting your website on January 21^st, 2014. I logged on with good intentions: to update my resume and attend to the several dozen invitations that I regularly leave to stew in my inbox. A pop-up box appeared, showing me the profiles of several suggested connections. I selected maybe half of them—a producer I worked with, my new editor, et cetera. And then I clicked “continue.”

The next screen informed me that I had successfully added two hundred and eighty-five new connections. I was only shown the first eight; the rest were thrust upon me based on—based on what, exactly? My understanding, as I now filter, zombie-like, through these new contacts, deleting everyone from random Detroit-area Indian people to an actual bald middle-aged man, is that these contacts came from my emails. You read my emails? I didn’t realize that signing up for LinkedIn was tantamount to acquiring a spiraling jealous ex-boyfriend who won’t relinquish his hold on my social media accounts.

But even then it makes no sense. I never emailed Patrick Appel. Why is his last name not just Apple? And why are most of these people in Detroit when I so considerately made a point to update my profile to New York? Ignore that last part—I don’t want you to know where I live. Why is there no consistency to their jobs, ages, or locations? Why does your website allow a person to add two hundred and eighty-five people in one fell swoop?

All I want is to delete my profile, to delete this debacle from my life. Unfortunately, you’re in my head. I cannot delete my LinkedIn because I now carry inside me that tiny but unignorable spasm of hope that someone will be bored enough to look at my profile and desperate enough to subsequently hire me. I blame you for this hope, this curse.

I ask only this: A detailed and exhaustive apology as well as monetary compensation equivalent to the combined salaries of all my unwanted connections. Alternately, my birthday is this week, and I like vodka. I look forward to our negotiations.

Cordially (bitterly),

Proma Khosla