I have a distinct memory from when I was a teenager, swooning over a Regency period drama I was watching on TV. “I wish I could live in the olden days,” I said wistfully. My friend snorted. “In the olden days, you would have been a servant.”
Brutal. But, also, not that far off the truth. I was the only non-white girl in my friendship group, and as my white friend was happy to point out, the days of yore that seemed so romantic and exciting for the British characters we were viewing would have been a tad different for my own Indian ancestors. In all likelihood, they would have been battling away under British Imperial control, toiling in fields under colonial lords and struggling to reap the benefits of their labour as the profits were all syphoned off shore back to England. (Actually, my direct ancestors were shipped over to Fiji to work the sugar cane plantations).
Watching season two of Bridgerton, the Netflix adaptation of Julia’s Quinn’s novels, was a strange experience
So watching season two of , was a strange experience. The show is known for its ‘colour-conscious casting’, which saw a culturally diverse lineup in season one that deliberately ignored its historic unlikeliness. One token attempt was made to explain the existence of a black queen, but it wasn’t a major plot point and didn’t feel necessary.
In season two, they take this one step further, with the lead character, Kate Sharma (Simone Ashley) not only played by a British-Indian actress, but with an Indian backstory as well. Ms Sharma and her sister, the daughters of a half-Indian noblewoman, have returned from India to England in search of a husband for the younger of the pair.
There are allusions to British India and Indian culture throughout the series - a young man who courts Ms Sharma speaks of having visited the colony on his travels; Ms Sharma scorns English tea and favours making her own spiced chai; the Sharmas practice certain Indian rituals in preparation for a wedding, and the soundtrack even plays an orchestral cover of a famous Bollywood song.
As an audience, we have to suspend our disbelief to accept that Indians could be considered nobility in England, that a mixed-race wedding would be condoned, and that there is no prejudice that would prevent Ms Sharma and her family from entering society at all.
I loved the little nods to Indian culture which only other desi viewers were likely to understand, and it really did make me feel seen to have a show of Bridgerton’s success including characters with similarities to me in such a prominent way
There is obviously nothing historically accurate about Bridgerton - the costumes draw widely from a range of periods, mingling fabrics, styles and hairdos that are decades, sometimes even centuries apart in origin. The liberties afforded to young women in the show are much freer than what would have in fact happened historically, and let’s face it, the level of hygiene and comfort seen in the homes of the characters are an upgrade from reality at the time.
So it isn’t that much of a stretch to further extend our imagination as viewers when it comes to race relations. But it did make me feel somewhat conflicted. As an Indian migrant, who has become used to rarely seeing people like me in leading roles in the dominant media, I was excited to see Indian beauty and characteristics celebrated in Bridgerton.
I loved the little nods to Indian culture which only other desi viewers were likely to understand, and it really did make me feel seen to have a show of Bridgerton’s success including characters with similarities to me in such a prominent way.
But there was a part of me that also was aware that the show is glossing over the brutal impact of British colonialism in India. British India was an experiment that resulted in between different Indian empires, the for Britain’s economic gain, , and the dispossession of millions of Indians from their homes. It wasn’t exactly all cricket, tea parties and balls.
Is it truly a celebration of Indian culture to have a few offhand remarks about how we make better tea than the British, without any deeper exploration of the dynamics at play?
Is it really a win for cultural inclusion if diversity is presented on screen, but only as a token gesture, not to bring the stories of people of colour to life via a major platform? Is it truly a celebration of Indian culture to have a few offhand remarks about how we make better tea than the British, without any deeper exploration of the dynamics at play?
I wish there was appetite for storytelling that focuses on sharing diverse experiences in all their complexity. But if Bridgerton seriously tried to engage with the inequality at the core of the interracial love story it tells in season two, I doubt it would have the cut through appeal that it does.
And the reality is that by virtue of delivering a fun, sexy, engaging TV show, actresses like Simone Ashley and Charithra Chandran are actually being seen by massive audiences. This is a huge step for increasing diversity and representation on our screens and makes a measurable difference to racial equality in the present.
Ultimately, our understanding of history has been whitewashed for centuries, as has the way we value storytelling, the audiences we seek to serve, and the stories that we prioritise for sharing. Whilst it could be frustrating as a person of colour to not see an acknowledgement of the impacts of historic racism in a show like this, it’s still commendable progress to see any attempt to rebalance the scales in the here and now for actors and audiences of colour.
Bridgerton is not a thoughtful reflection on the realities of interracial relationships in the 19th Century - but it is a thoroughly enjoyable romance series that showcases some of the incredibly talented diverse actors stepping onto the international stage.
I’ll take that win, and shrug off the historical inaccuracies if it means I’m likely to see more brown people on my screens. Besides, in my imagination, Kate and Anthony Bridgerton spend the remainder of their days debating the political reality of British India in their mansion, over a cup of genuine Indian chai made just how she likes it.
Zoya Patel is author of No Country Woman
