As the opening credits of Ms. Marvel flashes through an array of vibrant title cards in Urdu, Hindi, Bengali, and more, it’s clear that this TV show isn’t like other Marvel shows. What sets the series apart is the rich, intricate portrayal of the life of its Pakistani Muslim superhero, Kamala Khan. It’s replete with details that scream lived experience: steaming biryani in bags, stolen shoes at the mosque, and an expertly chosen soundtrack featuring Swet Shop Boys and A.R. Rahman. But for many brown and Muslim viewers, seeing ourselves in the Marvel Cinematic Universe hasn’t always been such a joyous experience. For years, the MCU worked overtime to vilify Muslim-coded characters.
In Ms. Marvel’s third episode, federal agents from the Department of Damage Control stride into Kamala’s mosque, investigating reports of an “enhanced individual.” They speak to the mosque’s imam with visible disdain, and respond to the request to come back with a warrant with surprise and scorn. In an earlier scene, one of the agents remarked that to approve the mosque trip, they need only ask a friend at the FBI, since they’ve probably had the mosque under surveillance for years. Episode by episode, it’s clear that the series is using Kamala’s culture and faith as tools rather than passing references. There is a determined effort here to chip away at negative perceptions of both desi and Muslim communities—perceptions that Marvel had a grim and undeniable hand in shaping.
Remember the bearded, Urdu- and Arabic-speaking terrorist group that kidnapped Tony Stark and trapped him in a cave in Iron Man? While Stark may have emerged relatively unscathed, going on to spearhead our favorite superhero team, it came at the expense of the continued dehumanization of already marginalized communities.
From the cartoonishly violent criminals of Iron Man to the shrouded, helpless women in Iron Man 3’s brief trip to a sweatshop in Pakistan, Ms. Marvel has a lot to make up for. And yet, within the confines of a six-episode superhero show, it does a surprisingly meaningful job.
Previous iterations of Muslims in the MCU strongly tended towards derision and suspicion. Ms. Marvel tries to do the opposite, telling FBI agents to leave the mosque and take their carpet-dirtying wingtips with them.
Before Ms. Marvel, the last time we heard a religious Islamic phrase was in Black Panther. A machine gun-toting militant shouts “Wallahi, I will kill you!” It’s not that antagonists like the ones in Black Panther shouldn’t exist at all—the film portrays a real issue affecting Nigerian people. It’s a gripping scene with its own nuance, that doesn’t in the least take away from an utterly monumental film. But the use of Arabic could sting a little at the time, against the backdrop of the MCU’s past failures in portraying Islam. It was a calling card letting viewers know that yes, the violent antagonists in the scene were tied to Muslims. Ms. Marvel allows for more reference points, so scenes like the one in Black Panther aren’t expected to paint the full picture alone.
Here, Kamala listens as her dad Yusuf and brother Aamir prepare for Aamir’s wedding. A soft Hindi song plays as Yusuf reassures his son that he’s ready to take the next step in his life. He tells his son that his choices are an act of love and courage—that choosing to step out into the world every day wearing salwar kameez is an act that shows Aamir’s inner strength. Masha’Allah, he says.
The camera pans to Aamir and his fiancé Tyesha’s Islamic marriage ceremony at the mosque, where gathered families cheer as the couple ties the knot. Takbir, calls the imam, an Islamic phrase used to express communal emotion. One person says takbir, and with the crowd, Marvel’s Muslim superhero responds, Allahu Akbar, a smile on her face and a scarf wrapped around her head. God is the greatest. The scene is already emotional on its own, a luminously sweet moment of joy and family. But it’s made doubly special by the profoundly negative connotation an Arabic phrase like Allahu Akbar holds across American pop culture. This moment is transcendent, a metamorphosis; recontextualizing the sacred word for an audience of millions with newfound potential for love, joy, and light.
With all that’s been done to cement the portrayal of both brown and Muslim characters as barbaric, violent, and ignorant, can one series make amends? Some would say no. But scenes like this make it clear that Ms. Marvel’s creators, including showrunner Bisha K. Ali and directors Adil El Arbi and Bilall Fallah, are well aware of the toll racism and Islamophobia have taken on our communities, and the struggles we’ve faced.
It takes Kamala longer than some of the other heroes out there to master her powers, to become a hero. With one episode to go, she has yet to don her costume or approach a fight with confidence. But in Kamala’s journey to master her powers and unlock the secrets they come with, she’s going up against not just the obstacles of the narrative, but those in the world beyond the screen.
There are undoubtedly places where the show falters, such as criticisms of how the change in Kamala’s comic book body-stretching power to something more visually appealing involving “solid light” erases a metaphor for internalized racism and feelings of otherness. The first episode raised questions of whether Kamala would be solely defined by her starry-eyed hero worship of the white, blond Captain Marvel. But in the episodes that follow, it’s clear that despite these shortcomings, the series is not shying away from the foundations of Kamala’s backstory. The gut-wrenching trauma of Partition is integral to the storyline, with the opening of the fifth episode explicitly referring to British occupation, bloody trains, and torched homes.
While it’s gratifying to know that Kamala Khan will be taking on the mantle of a full-fledged superhero, it means more to see our superhero make wudu before prayer with the squeaky tap in her mosque’s bathroom, to hear a Muslim girl say her hijab means she has nothing to prove to anyone else—and to have half an episode dedicated to Partition, playing out a lush, doomed love story torn apart in the aftershocks of ethnic and religious persecution.
With one episode to go, we’re on the verge of seeing Kamala come into her own. I’m glad it took longer than usual—the MCU has a lot to make up for. But now that our Pakistani Muslim superhero is getting to where she needs to, the question arises of what comes next.
Kamala’s origin story is a brilliant tapestry of family bonds, Bollywood dance numbers, jummah prayers, and interdimensional battles that span generations. As she moves from the small screen to 2023’s The Marvels, we can only hope that Kamala takes on the leading role she’s earned. Kamala is no sidekick. She’s a fully realized superhero, bearing magic and the legacy of a lifetime.
