Khan faces various struggles through race, religion, and disability. Multiple times in the film, his Aspergers is mistaken as unsavory behavior, leading to many of the issues he faces in the film. Paired with his religion and the color of his skin, he is under suspicion by those in authority positions.

Khan and his brother had a tense relationship since the start of the film. Even after their mother passed away and he was diagnosed, their relationship was additionally fractured by Khan’s decision to marry a Hindu woman. The most important lesson Khan ever learned from his mother is back-dropped by the Muslim-Hindu Riots.

Good people who do good deeds. And bad people who do bad. That’s the only difference in human beings. There’s no other difference.

It’s this lesson that Khan spreads through America on his journey to tell the President that he is not a terrorist. Khan’s mission was completed through love. Mandira fought for justice, she was fueled by anger.

My Name is Khan.

Khan’s struggles throughout the film range from minuscule to tremendous in scale. Helping a boy with a cut leg to being tortured from being a potential terrorist, he comes into contact with a lot of different experiences. I think his most difficult experience in the film would have been with his own identity. First of all, Khan had Aspergers Syndrome, causing a lot of social anxiety for the people around him, and surely for himself as well. Though this was something introduced immediately, its purpose within the film is overarching. The whole reason Khan goes on his journey to meet the president is because he didn’t understand Mandira’s misdirected frustration at the death of her son.

On the other hand, he is also Muslim. This, combined with the dark period in american history that was post-9/11 racism, made for some very hate-filled comments and lots of internal debate within Khan’s own life. During his ventures to try and meet the president, he is accused and cleared of being a terrorist, though his actions did seem a bit suspect without the full story. Khan’s brother, Zakir, tells Khan he can’t marry Mandira because she was Hindu. His problems seem to never cease, though he continues to push on, all the way toward the bitter-sweet ending.

Liar, liar, bums on fire.

First of all, I thought the first hour of the film was great. It starts ominously with Khan being detained in an airport, but it quickly moves into his back-story and his relationship with his family. Seeing his early years, his mother’s love for him and his brother’s rejection of him was very interesting. I’ve never really met anyone with Aspergers before, so I cannot speak to the accuracy of his portrayal, but I found his performance to be very endearing. His relationship with Mandira plays out beautifully as they get to know each other and overall I enjoyed that aspect of the story very much. I also have to say that I love how this film also focused on the racism that exploded post 9/11 and how that affected the Khans because, much like the Japanese internment, it’s a part of American history that isn’t really represented on the silver screen very often. In that sense, this film serves a very important role in portraying a different side to the post-9/11 climate, and could do well to educate people that racism is still something that happens and needs to be dealt with. With a message as strong as this, you’d think it could be seen as a major victory. Here’s a hint: it isn’t.

The reason why I say this is because this film has a whole other racist issue, in which we meet a black community in Georgia which, for some reason, seem to live in a village straight out of the colonial days. When the film shifts into Forrest Gump mode (another problem I have with it haha), Khan finds himself in the care of a black woman named Mama Jenny in this strange town, and boy does this character feel like a Mammy/Aunt Jemima stereotype ripped right from the early 1900s. Despite this film making a big deal about Obama being the first black president, it didn’t really do a good job of portraying African Americans. The whole hurricane molly bit felt very forced, as if they were trying to hit me over the head with the theme, and I think they could have dropped that whole subplot. The film would have precious minutes shaved off its running time and we would have a much more cohesive film. So beyond that, the film had pacing issues, felt too bloated for its own good, and had some major continuity issues which I’ll address now. Okay so maybe “continuity” is not the right word, but this film handled the passage of time very poorly. It’s supposed to cover 2001-2008/09, but it never really feels like there’s any growth or difference with the characters. Mandira’s son and his friend seem to never age, despite being kids during 9/11 and apparently during high school as well. That part is more of a minor nitpick, but I felt like it the timeline was sort of cobbled together. All to all, My Name is Khan has the best intentions but it was just poorly executed. The only bright spots in this film were the two main characters as I thought their relationship was beautifully played out, but Mandira is sort of shuffled to the background during the second half of the film, which kind of sucks considering how much she brings to the film.

Overall, I give this film 2 1/2 bums out of 5.

It is the relationship between being a person of color and a person with Asperger’s that also makes this film both heartbreaking and beautiful. The amount of negative attention so often given to men of color (and especially when this movie is set, post 9/11 for Muslim men of color)  and the bombardment of dangerous stereotypes was put in the spotlight with this film. Last academic year I spent three quarters taking American Sign Language. Part of the class was not only to learn the language, but to learn about the very distinct culture. Because of the discrimination that deaf/ hard-of-hearing people have faced their groups have become protective and mostly exclusive from hearing people.  While watching this movie I thought of the cases where deaf individuals have been stereotyped by those who perceive their signing as gang signs. Google prompted many results when trying to find examples, but I’ve only chosen one to share. Lashonn White, a women of color from Tacoma, called police to report an assault and upon greeting (which she used sign) was then tased and held in jail without an interpreter.

Like we saw in the movie, the insensitive, ignorant, and clearly indecent treatment of people of color with disabilities is not just unjust, but it is incredibly dangerous for them and can be fatal. For an Indian American Muslim man to be viewed immediately as a dangerous criminal (“terrorist”) is to then completely ignore any other part of his existence. To see him  as only an individual capable of harm is to then perceive all of his actions or words as one that will bring harm. Like the instance of White in Tacoma, it did not matter that she called to report an assault, but instead that she is a Black women and therefore her signs were perceived as “aggressive”.

***It’s important to note that in ASL, your own space is important. When signing with another person I would never touch them or grab them. Even when indicating that something is really, really big, I would use my tension in my face or repetitive motions to indicate that and I would not extend my arms fully.

-Amanda Baggs , “In My Language”

The character of Khan experiences the violent intersection of race, religion, and ability. When he is taken aside for questioning at the airport, it is due to a combination of different identity markers. He is a brown man (race), reciting Arabic (religion), and mumbling to himself in a seemingly “odd” manner (ability). Repeatedly throughout the film, Khan experiences violence and rejection due to his intersecting identities. His non-normative social interactions lead others to pick up on his Muslim identity, as he is unwilling to compromise (unlike the other Muslim characters) in performing religious rituals. It’s significant that the film is narrated by Khan reading his diary, as the thoughts of the narrator are elegant, complex, and emotional — a very different picture of Khan emerges with the narration of his tale. The narration acts as a critical point of entry for the cognitively abled viewer, who needs Khan’s actions to be explained in their own “language”. I was reminded of a video from Amanda Baggs.  In the first section she sings to herself and interacts with her environment. The footage is then repeated, with an English translation. In one part she says, “However the thinking of people like me is only taken seriously if we learn your language, no matter how we previously thought or interacted. As you heard I can sing along with what is around me. It is only when I type something in your language that you refer to me as having communication…I would like to honestly know how many people if you met me on the street would believe that I wrote this. I find it very interesting by the way that failure to learn your language is seen as a deficit but failure to learn my language is seen as so natural that people like me are officially described as puzzling rather than anyone admitting that it is themselves that are confused not autistic people or other cognitively disabled people who are inherently confusing “. If the story of Khan had been told in his native language, I think it would have been totally inaccessible to most viewers and would lead to him being labeled as a “non-person”. It is only through the act of translation that the viewer is able to relate to and understand Khan as a whole complex person.

As we’ve discovered in other texts this quarter (Apu’s Brown Voice, and Orientals) language is a powerful identity marker. What assumptions do we make when we hear accented English? What assumptions do we make when we aren’t able to interpret someone’s native language? What if that language is in constant conversation with the environment, involves movement, and repetitive motion? These are important questions that I hope to continue analyzing.

In My Name Is Khan, Rizvan is a Muslim man with aspurgers who is held up to many expectations. His mother expected him to thrive with his education, his brother expected Rizvan to listen to him, and Mandira didn’t expect him to go on this real journey to tell the President. In reality, we all bear heavy burdens of expectations, but how heavy is the burden of the U.S. country constantly targetting you for something you did not do? Rizvan struggles through the whole movie to please his wife Mandira and her demand for him to tell the President he is not a terrorist.

Along his journey he comes across these people who have this expectation that he is either or a terrorist, or he is just a normal guy. Every white person in the movie assumes he is a terrorist, while people who are not White accept him for him. Rizvan, exceeds his mothers expectation and does excel with his education, which comes in handy throughout the movie. He tries to get on a plane, but of course after 911 security locked down and they searched nearly everything they could. One of the security guards mocked his journey to visit the President and gives him something to say to the President once Rizvan meets him and rest assured, Rizvan delivered that message. Rizvan was threatened by his brother that he (Rizvan) will not mary Mandira because she’s Hindu; yet, Rizvan broke that expectation and married her. His wife Mandira, tells him to tell the President, “My name is Khan and I am not a terrorist” just to get rid of him; however, she ends up missing him and he ends up breaking her expectations of never doing it and he finally gets to tell the President that exact line. Lastly, though most of the U.S. see him as a terrorist, Rizvan proves himself more than a Muslim, terrorist, or any other labels that can go with him. Rizvan proves himself to be a human being with a heart.

He believes his mother’s words, “There are only two kinds of people in this world. Good people who do good deeds. And bad people who do bad. That’s the only difference in human beings. There’s no other difference.”  He sticks with that saying and lives by it. On his journey, he sees a fundraiser for children in Africa and a chance to meet the President. Sadly, the woman who is giving tickets for this event, turns him away.

Rizvan Khan: That’s… that’s $500
Fund Raiser Receptionist: What church are you from?
Rizvan Khan: Church? Church?
Fund Raiser Receptionist: This is a Christian’s only event.
Rizvan Khan: But… but it says it’s a fund raiser for the draught in Africa.
Fund Raiser Receptionist: For Christian’s honey.
[Giving the money back]
Rizvan Khan: Honey, honey keep it. For those who are not Christian in Africa.

This scene is ironic on so many levels. Rizvan breaks the expectation of a Muslim not having a heart and a “terrorist” but still donates his money to this fund, walking away empty handed. It’s also ironic because I do not think turning people away because they are not “Christian” is not a very Christian thing to do, nor is turning away money from someone who is not Christian giving their money to charity or good cause. Also, Rizvan goes back to Wilhemina, GA to help out Mama Jenny and Crazy Hair Joel and all those affected by the Hurricane. For someone who is a terrorist, helping a broken, battered community just doesn’t seem right.

I chose not to use the word stereotype because I believe that the movie goes on beyond Asian traditions, but expectations of a person. Rizvan has aspergers and I’m sure many people who knew that would not expect him to do all the amazing things he did in the movie. It’s more than a stereotype that a person is forced to live with, but expectations of them as a person as well.

I noticed several times while watching the movie that during some of the fight scenes, the “bad guys” in the background were grinning while Bruce Lee kicked ass. This seemed kind of unusual at first, until some discussion with classmates after the film and a bit of searching on google. As it turns out racism was rampant on the set, and it even went as far as many of the actors being treated horribly by their fellow actors. Bruce Lee, however, had no patience for racism whatsoever. In several of the fight scenes he was actually beating the person up, which is why the NPC-like men off to the side looked overjoyed at the time. What the film fails to convey is the very real struggle that many of the actors faced on set, and how Bruce Lee, despite potentially endangering his career, stood up for them.

There were a number of ways in which the film deviated from the standard, which also included the suicide of Su-Lin. While having a very minor part in the film, eventually Su-Lin gets to a point where she can no longer outrun the people who are after her; she’s cornered, and she runs out of options. Of course, this doesn’t mean that she’s doomed necessarily. If she had allowed herself to be taken, there might have been a slim chance that she would survive the ordeal, though surely not without being abused and raped. Instead of allowing the men after her to even lay a hand on her, she chooses to take her own life. In this way she was defiant until the very end, which isn’t something that you get to see very often in films– especially not older ones. For her role in the film she was only paid $100.

“…And I am not a terrorist.”

It’s amazing in the way that hate can shape the world and the way we perceive it, or the way that we think of others. Something as simple as a name, or a different book of rules, or the color of your skin is enough to have entire countries hating you, not even a specific “you”, but the very idea of something’s existence.

The film was a labor of love, as was the story it was based upon.  It told of triumph in dark times, of love and devotion and loss. It wove a wonderful web that was fantastic to follow, to see all the pieces it connected to at the end of the film. It was honestly a joy to watch, and I was genuinely looking forward to continuing it after we left for lunch on Tuesday. There were a few mentions of some cheesiness, but I didn’t find it cheesy in the slightest.

However, for all the overcoming the movie was about, I also felt that it was a great deal about hatred.

The first example was small; an unfortunate cultural circumstance that, though disheartening, was understandable to a certain extent. Zamir’s unwillingness to approve of the wedding between Khan and Mandira, because Mandira was Hindu and they were Muslim, the basis of their hatred a long war that neither of them were directly connected with. But Khan’s mother taught him equality regardless of these things, and so Khan was unbothered.

The next case was an angry little boy, who had just lost his father to war. He lashed out against his best friend, because he viewed his friend as a source, a reason for his father dying, and this tiny little hate turned into something bigger and fiercer, until the boy was essentially responsible for getting his best friend killed.

There were also hate crimes, things committed against people just because they looked like they could be Muslim; murders and cruel acts of violence.

And then there was the murder attempt made on Khan’s life. All of these acts were driven by hatred, and though the movie was inspiring I felt this was also a connecting theme. For all the good that occurred it was fueled by tragedy, and while I’m glad it had a  good ending where Mandira and Khan could be happy together again, it’s very sad how long and what it took them to get there again after Sam’s loss.