In Ms. Marvel, Its Brown Girls Who Save the World

I remember in 2012, watching The Avengers, in the theater with my family. Superhero movies — particularly those in the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) — were a pillar of my childhood, but this was the first one I can actually remember seeing and being excited for. I was a little brown girl, completely completely immersed in a world where heroes, regardless of their differences, band together to save the day. I don’t even question the fact that they’re all white and I actively look forward to watching these characters on the screen in future films. It wouldn’t be until a decade later, in June 2022, that a brown girl would be shown as a Marvel hero on screen. 

I first encountered Kamala Khan a.k.a. Ms. Marvel around 4 or 5 years ago, in the pages of a comic book; she inspired me not only in terms of backstory (she is literally a superhero fangirl who becomes a superhero!), but in appearance too, being the first time I saw a brown girl as a lead superhero in any form of Western media. Ms. Marvel, Kamala Khan, and her story and comics mean so much to me. As a Marvel fan since basically birth (passed on from my dad who grew up reading comics, I’d always loved superheroes, but I had never seen myself as one — how could I, when everything around me only showed white men (and the occasional white woman!) as the ones saving the world? But then, I was introduced to Kamala Khan. Kamala who was like me, loving fanfic and obsessing over superheroes and daydreaming to no end. Kamala, who wanted to do good in the world, but never really felt like she could and the world didn’t really think she could either. She proved them all wrong: brown girls can save the world.

So, yeah, I was excited — and skeptical — about Kamala joining the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Would a franchise so centered on whiteness and masculinity as measures of heroism be able to deal with the nuance of Kamala Khan’s story as a second-generation Pakistani-American immigrant? The story of Ms. Marvel  itself was co-created by Sana Amanat, a Pakistani-American comic book editor, and the show was created by Bisha K. Ali, a British-Pakistani screenwriter. This type of representation behind the page/screen is important, as it allows for authentic and nuanced storytelling. Amanat once said, about the creation of Kamala Khan/Ms. Marvel: "the big idea behind Ms. Marvel [was] very much about minority representation, the bigger idea was about finding your authentic self." 

Ms. Marvel is as much a coming of age story as it is a superhero adventure. There are parts of this show that are so specific to the experience of a teenage girl growing up as a second-generation South Asian immigrant. There's a certain kind of conflict we feel between who we want to be and the different expectations placed on us by our families compared to the culture we grow up in. What sets Kamala apart from other heroes like Peter Parker/Spiderman is that, even in her fictional universe, most of the heroes do not look like her. She idolizes people like Captain Marvel/Carol Danvers, a white woman, and starts out by rejecting her family and cultural heritage in favor of being a more stereotypical American teenager. While there are some differences between the show and the comics, they did not necessarily change Kamala’s story for the worse. An example of this is how Kamala gets her powers. In the comics, Kamala has a dormant Inhuman gene that is activated by a mysterious mist one night after she sneaks out to go to a party her parents forbade her to go to. In the show, Kamala discovers a bangle that belonged to her great-grandmother; when she puts it on, Kamala finds that she has these mystical powers that allows her to manifest and manipulate cosmic energy.  The bangle does not give Kamala her powers so much as it unlocks something within her, something powerful that she might not have known was there. What I love about the show’s approach to Kamala’s superhuman abilities is that it ties her directly to her culture and ancestry. Kamala’s final Ms. Marvel costume is gifted to her by her mother, and the design is heavily inspired by South Asian fashion. Her signature lightning bolt is inspired by a necklace of Kamala’s name in Arabic. Kamala’s superhero identity is built upon parts of her family and culture, and embracing that is where her true power comes from.

I can honestly say that the show was everything I would have wanted from a Ms. Marvel show.  It’s a story about magic, community, love and finding yourself. It’s a story about generational trauma, about cultural history, about knowing your family and connecting to your roots, while trying to carve your own path as well. It’s fun, colorful, heartwarming, and poignant. It’s a love letter to the character, her story, and her fans.

I loved the entire show throughout, but there are a few moments (particularly in the final two episodes) that  have a special place in my heart. Watching Kamala meet her great grandmother during the Partition, watching her be the trail of stars that guided her grandmother back to her father — it was the type of thing I wouldn’t have expected from a Marvel show, but fit into the story beautifully. I can’t express what these scenes meant to me, especially watching on my late grandmother’s birthday. I miss her and feel her presence in my life, even if we never got a chance to meet. That scene in Ms. Marvel shows how we can be connected to our ancestors who we might not have physically met, but know them in the sense that we carry on their strength, resistance, and love into the present and future. The show also addresses intergenerational trauma, as Kamala’s nani explains how she herself is still trying to find her identity, and is deeply impacted by the legacy of colonialism: “My passport is Pakistani, my roots are in India, and in between all of this, there’s a border marked with blood and pain.” Kamala is dealing with this history, while learning to find her path in the world. The scene with everyone protecting Ms. Marvel from the authorities shows the strength of the community in the face of violence. Finally, the scene with Kamala and her dad on the roof, and how he explains what her name means; kamal, he explains, means “perfect” in Arabic, but “wonder” or “marvel” in Urdu. Kamala has always been their own Ms. Marvel, completely separate from her idolization of Captain Marvel. 

This show has heart — it was everything I needed it to be, and more. I can’t wait to see how Ms. Marvel continues to save the world. Kamala Khan is a hero to her family (past, present, and future), a hero to her community, and a hero for those who hadn’t seen themselves as one before.