As soon as the Netflix series Bridgerton dropped in Australia, my sisters were messaging in our Whatsapp chat, demanding to know if I’d started watching yet. Their enthusiasm wasn’t unexpected, because the three of us had spent a large chunk of our coming of age watching similar series about the trials and tribulations of young British woman in the ‘olden days’ - of course, the BBC adaptation of Pride and Prejudice, as well as adaptations of Emma, Sense & Sensibility, the series Wives & Daughters and Vanity Fair were amongst our favourites.
The tales of romance, scandal and marriage, set against the backdrop of bucolic English landscapes, frilly fashions and men in tailcoats and top hats was enough to make our adolescent fancies fly.
Settling in to watch Bridgerton, I got a thrill of nostalgia from the opening scene, the sets and costumes immediately taking me back to our family home in the early 2000s, where hours were spent imagining myself into the worlds these shows created.
But within the first 10 minutes, I could see that this show was somewhat different to the period dramas I grew up with, in a few key and important ways. First of all, the cast is incredibly racially diverse - the Queen is black, and so are many members of nobility. There are black and brown characters scattered throughout the show and in key roles, a casting decision that should be applauded for acknowledging that historical accuracy in the context of a drama is not as important as increasing diversity on our screens in 2021.
There are black and brown characters scattered throughout the show and in key roles, a casting decision that should be applauded for acknowledging that historical accuracy in the context of a drama is not as important as increasing diversity on our screens in 2021.
Now the leap of imagination I had to take to relate to the characters on my screen was made smaller and more attainable, something that I still am immensely grateful for after a lifetime of watching racial diversity relegated to tokenism in the entertainment industry.
But even more surprising were the racy sex scenes. There are plenty of drawn out scenes of lovemaking in Bridgerton that show enough nudity and energetic thrusting to be a far cry from Lizzie Bennet’s longing looks at Mr Darcy from across the ballroom from Pride and Prejudice.
I sent a message to my sisters pointing out that Bridgerton is significantly more amorous than the shows we used to consume, and it made me reflect that perhaps our obsession with period dramas as teenagers was connected to more than just a love of long dresses and choreographed dances.
As three young Muslim women growing up with a conservative Indian culture, the social norms displayed in period dramas were not dissimilar to the expectations of us as modest girls expected to have arranged marriages.
As three young Muslim women growing up with a conservative Indian culture, the social norms displayed in period dramas were not dissimilar to the expectations of us as modest girls expected to have arranged marriages.
The preoccupation of leading characters with their status in society, preserving their honour, and above all ensuring decorum and modesty in women neatly aligned with the messages we were raised with.
We weren’t allowed to date as teenagers and were expected to make respectable matches with young Indian Muslim men from the right families, who we would mostly spend time with while chaperoned, and certainly wouldn’t have physical contact with until after marriage.
With this context to our own coming of age, it’s easy to see why we related so strongly with the young women of period dramas, equally constrained by the dictations of polite society and compelled to discover romance through looks and banter under the watchful gaze of their parents.
"Settling in to watch Bridgerton, I got a thrill of nostalgia from the opening scene, the sets and costumes immediately taking me back to our family home..." Source: Netflix
The balls and dances attended by the young women in British period dramas aren’t that different to the many Indian weddings we attended, where we would wear our finest clothes and make eyes at men across the hall while aunties and uncles shrewdly made advances for advantageous matches on our behalf. There wasn’t any dancing in our community, but if there was, it would definitely be of the variety shown in Bridgerton and its ilk - bodies one metre apart, only hands touching at any time.
The balls and dances attended by the young women in British period dramas aren’t that different to the many Indian weddings we attended, where we would wear our finest clothes and make eyes at men across the hall while aunties and uncles shrewdly made advances for advantageous matches on our behalf.
I hadn’t noticed these parallels before, until I watched Bridgerton and gasped in shock when the Duke dared to fondle Daphne Bridgerton through her dress. My immediate thought was ‘how improper!’, and then I had to laugh at myself, because clearly watching period dramas reverts me straight back to the buttoned up days of my adolescence when Mr Darcy would never have dared to even take Elizabeth Bennet’s hand unless it was to help her out of a carriage.
I’m a fan of progress, and I love that television is becoming more bold, honest and diverse. But a part of me is also glad that we had the chaste period dramas of the past to guide us through our own modest upbringing with all the romance and innocence of young women of polite society, dreaming of their white weddings. It made me feel less peculiar compared to my modern and bold friends, in a time when my cultural differences often set me too far apart.
Zoya Patel is an Australian writer and editor. She is the author of No Country Woman: A memoir of not belonging.
