Men Often Compare Me To A Famous Actor. They Think It’s A Compliment – Here’s Why It’s Not.

No one tells you to stretch before you stretch.

It’s always so sexy in movies and porn when someone approaches other people. They slip into other people’s skirts, spread their legs, and wear hats. It’s a joke about what happens when clothes are eventually removed and thrown into a corner.

I was wearing a nice hipster skirt, our jeans came off the little blue they had and I was It hurts!

But I smiled and sighed, as if my muttering was enthusiastic at our destination.

In other words: Grinder, L train, his throne – all in under half an hour. Magic!

It was a classic trip to Williamsburg. White, bearded, man dressed, pierced, with a tattoo and smiling looking at me. We continued to push and the pain subsided (until the leg stopped moving). Then his hands were under my shirt while mine was working on the belt buckle.

“You’re beautiful” I told her. And this is it, so I felt right to say.

“So are you!” He replied. His enthusiasm is ridiculous. “You really look like your profile!”

– You too, – I laughed between kisses. This is a preface to the digital age. I wanted to put things on the bed (or at least horizontally) so there was no way to stretch the leg again.

He stopped kissing me and ran a finger through my hair, then touched my neck. He looked at me with admiration. When I saw my natural tan, I blushed.

“You know … you see …” he began. I climbed up and prepared for the inevitable line he and the many other white men felt they had to pass me. Please don’t say this I thought.

“You look … the man in the movie ‘Slumdog’ … how’s Dave?”

She pulled me closer, forcing my feet on her skirt.

I put my lip on it and made a sweet smile. Maybe my feet are still shaking. Maybe because of my frustration. Maybe since I resigned.

Not really in excitement.

***

In 2008, we witnessed the spectacle of the Beijing Olympics, the taste of the financial recession and the calming drama of the presidential election.

It was also the premiere of a small film called “Slumdog Millionaire” directed by Danny Boyle, and it became his true version of the story presented on screen as he went from a dormant hit to the best. Photo of Oscar winner.

He also introduced to the world a young, charming, somewhat silly South Asian (at least, in my opinion) actor from the UK named Dev Patel.

After “Slumdog”, her star went on to grow and strengthen roles in the comic series “Best Exotic Marigold Hotel”, in the dramatic teardrop “Lion” for which she was nominated for an Oscar and in the thriller and “Hotel Mumbai”. Based on the 2008 terrorist attacks on the Taj Mahal Palace Hotel.

This hotel is on some of the streets I grew up in Bombay. If I live there again, I will see the smoke and ash of a boiled building from our family apartment.

All of this means that in the years since its debut, more and more people have heard about its existence, which I have personally struggled with.

At first I was excited. Finally, the India -born actor is spoken with the same breath as Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and Denzel Washington. I am proud of Patel and his achievements and hope that this will be a turning point in India’s representation in the US media landscape. India was suddenly considered a “hot” topic.

Then the confrontation began. So is guilt.

After college, I moved to New York City exactly a year before the release of Slumdog Millionaire. It was hard for me to identify at the time.

The bar scene was scary, the union apps were in their infancy and I was on some failed dates with some gay colleagues that my straight friends were dating me.

I met my first serious girlfriend on Craigslist, all over the place. He was lovely and funny and he liked the movie. He was also white and I was the first Indian man I met.

Movies became our business. We watched “Slumdog Millionaire” together at the now defunct Sunshine Cinema on Houston Street.

After leaving the theater, he jokingly said, “Looks like you have a competition.”

I laughed, then I didn’t even know that facing Patel would be a recurring theme of my former life.

Over the past few years of this relationship, whether it’s new partners, night standards, or just flirting with guys on apps, Patel’s name has often resonated.

I hated it. I am also not satisfied. It calmed me down.

They are not just white men. This reference is made by people of different backgrounds and genders, in bed or at a party. Each time he was given a compliment, it was as if to say, “Hey! You look like a movie star! “

I felt sorry for the first Indian man to date and other friends and dates of Quir Desi.

“Looks like he’s the only Indian they can think of!” He told me that he himself had received the comment. “I mean, we don’t even look like him!”

Look at the picture at the top of this article and I think you will agree. I didn’t stop on the street because I was bothered with the kneecap (especially now that my hair and beard have grown).

When I look at old Facebook photos when the comparisons started, I see some common touchpoints: thick eyebrows, slightly sharp ears, pronounced nose. We’re about the same height (6’2 “) and skinny (they’re less now. Thanks, shut up!).

But nothing more. I have more hair on my chest than her hair all over my body. In interviews he was usually calm and humble, while I was a bit more angry and expressive. We also have different backgrounds. I was born in India and moved with my family to California in 2000. He is six years younger and from London.

He’s right, too, and it causes problems (it’s an old-fashioned fantasy about gay mourners being inaccessible to straight men).

But let’s move on to the copper, or rather brown spots. We are both light colored Indian men. And it seems enough for most people to connect with us.

14 years after the premiere “The millionaire from the slums“We have been blessed with many artists. It is expected that Himesh Patel, Manish Dial and Viveik Kalra (to name a few) will be surnames along with Reese Ahmed, Aziz Ansar, Kumail Nanjian and Kunal Nayar.

Asian representation in the Western media has come a long way in the past 20 years, so we can imagine that micro-aggression against casual celebrities should be reduced. The same goes for the kitchen or the stereotypical accent.

But we still have a long way to go.

I know these comments are never intentionally harmful, but they are problematic nonetheless. F.Or any fetish trick, there are people who seem to use comparisons as a clumsy but kind bridge to learn more about me and my culture. Something they can’t find in friends and family.

So I help them when I can and I use Patel to do it.

“Have you watched his movies yet?” I asked. “Do you like Home? Other Indian films or media you have experienced? Did you know that’s where I was born and raised before I was 16? Have you been there?

Sometimes these questions can make other people angry, but this is usually a good time for punishment. Many of these conversations turn out to be brilliant. The initial micro-aggressions are understood by those who created them and we can overcome them.

I found that most people want to learn and get involved. And they often know more than they release. It ends with a very interesting moment of cultural exchange.

And I hope the dialogue continues because iIn these discussions they saw me: a man with my identity and experience. I am proud of my heritage and my individual journey. Mine inherently desirable and powerful.

The star of my movie.

Renise Vitali is a New York -based writer. His work has appeared in Vice, Conde Nast Traveler, NPR and Oxford University Press. You can read more from him here www.RVITTAL.com and contact him on Twitter @ReneyshV.

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