The Intro | Vol. 1

So why am I doing this?

The Intro

I turned 30 at the end of 2020. Some might say that 30 signifies a major milestone. Some say it’s when you’re finally an adult. Some say that at 30, if you are single, you might as well be dead. Some day that I should have a partner, one kid with another on the way, house, and unlimited (yet secretly unhappy) happiness by this time.

I have none of that.

Turning 30 was quite a grand occasion. Why? Because I’ve honestly felt 30 for centuries. As a child, my intuition sensed that this would be the decade where I’d feel most comfortable with myself, most emotionally available, and most where my career would take off in the way that I’ve always dreamed.

So…no pressure, right?

I have made no resolutions for my 30’s, a common occurrence in my 20’s where my seemingly endless sadness (masked with hope) would propel me to make proclamations that “THIS IS GOING TO BE THE YEAR WHERE I (insert any accomplishment)!”

The only things that I have chosen to work on are:

• Find more joy. (easier said than done and I know…I sound like a Chicken Soup for the Soul audio book as I type this BUT we’ll come back to me not having enough joy in other posts).

• Write more.

Let’s talk about the writing part.

Art is everything to me. From the moment I saw my first Broadway play to sneaking in my basement to watch Vertigo (a film that has plagued me ever since I viewed it. I am indeed afraid of heights), I have such an admiration and respect for creating art, specifically on stage, film, and music. It’s utterly important — whether it’s good or bad is up to interpretation — but the act of making something out of nothing is dare I say it…brave? I know that’s an annoying actor thing to say but I said it — so get. off. my. back.

I started writing not because I loved it. Oh, no. Writing is a slog. It takes discipline, time, energy, and a lot of heart. It’s also not paying the bills as of (w)right now so can feel even more tedious. I’ve always been a performer. I’ve been acting, singing, dancing, and playing piano since I was six and my mind is always making something. Those things bring me joy and challenge me in ways that nothing else has. Sounds like a fairytale, right?

You’ll notice that I left writing out of that list.

I started writing because no one would cast me (or even audition me) for parts that I know I can pull off. Complex roles. Human roles. Not just stereotypes. Not just caricatures. And I know I’m not the only one. I see so many friends and colleagues not realize their full potential because people this industry refuse to take a chance on them. Even people in and out of our own communities.

I, on the other, hand have learned that I have entirely too much confidence that borders on narcism but again…more on this later. Because it’s all about me.

I started writing because I don’t see enough opportunities for South Asian artists. We aren’t allowed to try new things, possibly fail, but get back up and try again. Our white counterparts are allowed to do so. And even when we talk about the diversity of Hollywood, our community is often relegated to bit parts without storylines. Don’t get me wrong…things are MUCH better and there is much progress. But we can do more.

I started writing because I am tired of seeing my fellow South Asians not represented off and on screen/stage. I started writing because a scarcity of opportunities leads to fierce competition amongst us and in turn, we don’t help one another ascend to the levels that we aspire to be at. We should be able to work together to solve the problems with representation in our industry. None of us can do it alone.

I started writing because I felt like it was necessary. So many of my South Asian colleagues are writing incredible stuff so I thought, I should be doing that too. They aren’t waiting for the opportunities. They’re creating them.

I’m bad at many things but creating and performing, isn’t one of them. This is not to be cocky. I just know how much joy this art gives me and I refuse to give up (I’m a Capricorn…this makes sense). Nothing else does this for me.

I don’t have all the answers. Nor am I trying to be the answer to all things. I will mess up. You will call me out. And I will learn. Boom.

So, here are. On this wonderful platform. With thousands of other more accomplished writers. That scares me. My imposter syndrome kicks in but I am trying to break free of that.

I don’t really have a plan for this. It could be essays, poems, interviews, etc. There is no real plan. And I am okay with this.

I hope that these entries are a foray into my own world and thinking. A lot of them might be bad. Some might be good. But please allow me to fail.

Critique and criticize, yet find something noteworthy to celebrate, if you can.

I want this to be a place where I share my thoughts but also allow myself to learn and discover new things.

But most importantly, I want to celebrate South Asian artists, their work, and tenacity to create art that they can see themselves in. This is my love letter to this community — one that is complicated and flawed, yet diverse in thought, skin, and ideology. But most importantly our art.