Mim Shaikh on dark skin representation in TV and film
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Photo credit: Amar Majid
I was sat in the living room drinking a cold can of coke, when my girlfriend’s mother explained to her friends; “Mim is the darkest one in his family!” I took a big gulp from the coke can and said nothing. I just swallowed and let the information resonate. I wondered at the time whether that remark would stay in my head, or would it flow away like a cloud? I guess by referencing it at the start of this article it shows that it stayed. Part of me is glad she said it because it led to me sitting with my thoughts and eventually writing this. What has been born from this, is a way for me to try and convey the feelings and thoughts that arise when you are a person of colour working in a predominantly white gazed industry.
I want to speak about light-skinned privilege: the privilege bestowed upon people who belong to the South-Asian diaspora, but are light-skinned and fair. If you’ve been around a group of aunties watching a Bollywood film, they will always reference the hero or the heroine in the film as looking “fair” which, from their point-of-view, translates to beautiful. In the past this was seen as normal and colourism wasn’t openly spoken about. I remember hearing older people in my family reference my skin colour as ‘dark’ and this translated as ‘finding me less attractive in comparison to my fairer skinned cousins’. My grandmother would always say to me “the darker you are, the more masculine you are!” and I think at the time she was just trying to make me feel better for the lack of self-love I had.
I went to various high schools during my childhood because I moved around a lot to due to not having a stable, nuclear family set up. My mother and father divorced when I was one and I moved in with my grandmother who lived with her son, daughter, and at some points of her life, by herself. The schools that I attended in Ashford, Kent were predominantly white. It was rare that you would see another person of colour in the school, but I vividly remember the other brown boy in the entire school being South Asian; he was a Sikh boy named Lovedeep.
I felt alienated, and different, but Lovedeep’s presence brought me a sense of familiarity. Our families would meet up, and we would play together outside school hours.
Later in my school years, there came a time for the school to shoot the front cover of the prospectus; I got asked to leave the class by a teacher and follow another to the school assembly hall. I thought I was in trouble, but it turned out that there was a photoshoot taking place, between myself and another white female pupil. Without me knowing at the time, the school was profiting off my image rights, and my brownness. It was only when I moved to South West London in 2011, that I attended a state school where I felt a lot more belonging. There were children who came from varying backgrounds, some included Albanian, Polish, Kurdish, Indian, Pakistani, Bangladeshi, Nigerian, Ghanian, and Jamaican. I was reflected back at me, and this was pivotal for the development in my childhood.
Photo credit: Amar Majid
Skip forward 20 years, I hadn’t seen a friend of mine for a while, and at friend’s birthday party he said to me “you’ve gotten darker” to which I replied “yeah I been chilling in the sun”. I thought he was thinking “I can’t believe how dark you are” as if it was a negative thing to be darker skinned. This has been a constant voice in my head throughout my career working as a talent in the U.K. I used to look at my skin complexion and sometimes I would wonder: if I was lighter skinned, would I have been presented with more opportunity?
I always answer the question with a “yes”, because deep down, I know the truth. Does that stop me from working? No, it fuels me. It gives me an extra battery in my jet pack to keep me pushing through. I got to the position I’m in by being this complexion, so I’m sure it will work out fine. But I still have doubts, when I know that people have either bleached their skin to look lighter, or have had some cosmetic surgery done in order to remove identifiable ethnic features like a big nose, or big ears, or facial hair etc. Although this is a choice by many, I am not condemning their freedom to choose this; individuals should be allowed to aesthetically alter their appearance how and when they want. I’m just aware that because I don’t abide by the industry’s desired look, I won’t be as booked and busy.
I remember seeing Shah Rukh Khan on TV when I was younger, because my mother used to watch a lot of Bollywood films during my childhood. I liked him more than the other actors, but I didn’t realise until much later that I was drawn to him due to the colour of his skin. He is a darker counterpart to co-stars such as Salman Khan or Aamir Khan. It was the same way I was drawn to Jess in Bend It Like Beckham, my eyes were drawn to the screen because she was darker. Despite seeing the representation, we need to acknowledge the system is rigged against people with darker skin. The stars of Bend It Like Beckham are a prime example – we saw Kiera Knightly going on to achieve Hollywood stardom and Parminder Nagra only getting regular roles in America. It is true that this is not just the case in the acting profession, but I have heard countless stories of my friends’ having to work a lot harder in order to get to the same position that other colleagues have easily achieved.
I have heard light-skinned South-Asians say they “do not see colour”, but not seeing it all is a problem.
Photo credit: Amar Majid
If you don’t see colour, you can’t see struggle, you can’t see determination, you can’t see ostracisation, and you certainly can’t see deep seeded inferiority complex’s. I would rather someone say “I do see your skin colour, and I can empathise with how hard things might be”.
In 2016, I was covering radio shows - anytime Trevor Nelson would be off sick on BBC Radio 1Xtra, I would get a text from an Executive Producer asking if I could cover his show. I would excitedly agree, run to the station, and cover his slot with enthusiasm. I was covering his show for a long time, and people had started discussing who would take over from him when he moved on to his Radio 2 show. Many would say “it’s going to be you Mim”, because I’m really good at what I do. I put in my 10,000 hours and worked my ass off. So, I started believing it. I finally had a meeting with the BBC Radio 1 Controller at the time, Mr Ben Cooper, who told me I will be presenting the weekend breakfast show but not Trevor Nelson’s slot. I was happy I managed to get a slot on a national BBC radio station, of course, but there was a voice in the back of my head that wanted to know why I didn’t get Trevor’s slot.
I later found out through someone I know why .
“You’re not Black enough”
“What do you mean”
Silence. “Who do you think made the decision?”
“[insert person’s name]”
Nodding.
It led to me question whether I was even good enough to be on the station. Instead of being fuelled by the fact that I was the first South Asian broadcaster to present on a daytime slot on BBC Radio 1Xtra, I instead kept hearing a voice say “do you actually belong here?” From one perspective I knew I had the talent, and I was good at the job. But from an identity point of view, I didn’t want to look like some fraud who is trying to act Black. It affected my confidence and I stopped believing in myself. I didn’t want to be hired because I fit into an idea of what I someone else wanted. I wanted to be hired for my talent.
I studied Broadcast Journalism at the University of Leeds in 2012 and was awarded a first-class grade for my dissertation about the persecution of a Muslim minority group in Pakistan. I had two main objectives to complete once I graduated: to present my own radio shows on the BBC and to make a documentary which would inform, educate, and entertain audiences across the world. I managed to get the radio shows, and by the grace of God I was fortunate enough to present my own documentary; Mim Shaikh: Finding Dad on BBC Three in 2018. After it aired, I hoped that this very personal, and emotional story would allow me to go and present documentaries across the world like Louis Theroux and Stacey Dooley. I saw it as a springboard to getting future commissions. Although I was given the opportunity to speak about religion on the BBC series Pilgrimage: The Road to Istanbul which aired again on Sunday mornings in October 2022, my television presenting career came to a halt due to COVID-19.
I hope that there is still room for a dark-skinned South Asian presenter who wants to inform and educate, not just make people laugh.
From not fitting in from the darkness of my skin, to then not getting a job for not being Black – I was conflicted in finding comfort in my identity. If the South Asian community saw me as too dark, and the industry didn’t recognise my ethnicity, then where did I sit?
During the pandemic, when we were in a nationwide lockdown; I was cast in a cross-cultural romantic comedy What’s Love Got To Do With It? written by Jemima Khan. As I started working on the project, I was pleasantly uplifted to see darker skinned South Asian actors getting mainstream British roles. Seeing Jeff Mirza who plays Farooq Khan’s (the character I play) father, and Shabana Azmi who play’s Farooq’s mother, instilled hope. Right choices were being made to subvert the stereotypical portrayal of dark skinned South Asian talent in the film industry.
What’s Love Got To Do With It, Stills Credit: Robert Viglasky
In Olivia Wilde’s Don’t Worry Darling, I felt seen with Asif Ali’s character Peter. I think we need to get to a place where seeing darker skinned South Asian talent on mainstream television and film is not a rarity. There can’t be a blanket for all races to fit into a slot, when the struggles and realities of each of their lives are significantly different. Darker skinned South Asian people deserve recognition without being compared to others. Only then will people with darker skin feel represented, reflected and revealed in the stories that are being told.
What’s Love Got to Do With It will be released in U.K Cinemas on January 27th 2023.