![]() ![]() Like Devi, I certainly didn’t treat everyone in my life perfectly, and I knew I had to take ownership for that. ![]() In high school I was emotional, impulsive, high and then low, kind and then mean, steady and then brash. Instead, we internalize blame for being “unhinged” when in reality we are just being human. It’s something we women do a lot: take crap from others, oftentimes men, because we don’t know how to forgive ourselves. And, because Devi thinks she’s crazy and makes poor decisions - and hasn’t forgiven herself for those decisions - she thinks she doesn’t deserve respect. She’s desperate for his validation, still, and so if their relationship has to be on his terms, maybe that’s just how it has to be, she thinks.ĭevi thinks she’s crazy. But there was a part of her that felt she deserved Paxton’s treatment - making her do his homework, declining her invitation to the dance and, most notably, asking her to keep their relationship a secret - because of how much she screwed up earlier. Watching Paxton climb into Devi’s bedroom night after night for a steamy hookup, I couldn’t help but feel bad for Devi. Devi and Paxton rekindle a friendship, and one dark and stormy night, he shows up at her window in traditional rom-com fashion to make out with her for “a bazillion hours.” Because not only did she cheat on both of them, but she ruined Paxton’s swimming career by, more or less, being the reason he broke his arm. In classic Devi fashion, the whole situation implodes and sours her relationships with both boys. It’s hard to learn how to navigate the boundaries of how we want to be treated and how they are treating us. So when we finally do get attention from men, it’s overwhelming. This results partially, I think, from a society that tells young South Asian women they will never really be desirable to white or traditionally attractive men unless hypersexualized. Similar to how she offers her virginity up on a platter to Paxton in season one, second-season Devi still harbors much impulsivity, immaturity and naivete when it comes to men. This is the first moment in which the second season captures so vividly the deep insecurity and desperation of brown girls to be accepted by “cool” high school boys after spending a lifetime believing their non-white appearance renders them undesirable. Devi has to choose, but she can’t, so instead she proceeds to juggle both of them.ĭevi two-timing her beaus is more than just a boy-crazy phase. Contestant one: Ben - Devi’s intellectual equivalent but cringey in almost all other ways. The second season finds Devi with not one, but two romantic prospects. That making mistakes and even becoming a bit unhinged are strengths in and of themselves. That she can grow, make mistakes, and emerge better and stronger from the mess. What the second season does, in a slow-burn, warm-glow kind-of-way, is show viewers that an Indian girl, just like any other girl, can learn to love and forgive herself and forgive others. Whether it be due to grief, insecurity, love, identity, that much is clear. Devi - 16, hormonal, horny, sensitive - is a mess. “Never Have I Ever” creators Mindy Kaling and Louie Lang churned out an original, rich, moving second season that reckoned with, when it comes to brown women, themes so rarely addressed on public storytelling stages. This time around, the show spotlights our favorite angsty brown teen, Devi Vishwakumar, not just existing in space, as most examples of “representation” in television do, but filling the frame of a holistic and flawed person at the center of her own journey. Representation is always good, but the second season of Mindy Kaling’s teen dramedy “Never Have I Ever,” starring the young and eclectic Maiteryi Ramakrishnan, takes it to the next level.
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