Instead, it comes from candid portraits such as that of Mohamed Mahmood Alessa, a 20-year old in New Jersey who was appended by the FBI after he tried to join a militant group in Somalia. In her portrait of Alessa, Rockwell depicts him in bubble-gum pink tones, prone on a floral bedspread, cuddling with his beloved cat, Princess Tuna. Unsettling. The narrative of terror that we often see seldom contains photos of wannabe terrorists cuddling with their kitty cats, or of the underwear bomber as a sullen teenager, posing during a school trip.

I first came across Rockwell’s vivid, unforgettable portraits by chance, wandering around an exhibit at the Twelve Gates Gallery in Philadelphia. There, a series of small, glittery paintings of a regal, coy Benazir Bhutto caught my eye. Two years later, on February 3, Rockwell returned to Twelve Gates Gallery for the launch of The Little Book of Terror, where she read from her book to a rapt audience. Rockwell graciously agreed to build upon temporarily suspend the Sepia-Chapati friendship rivalry and share more about her book with SM readers.

Tell us about your time at Chapati Mystery.

About six months or so after I left academia in 2006, I reconnected with Manan Ahmed, aka Sepoy, and he asked me to write for Chapati Mystery. I’d never written for a blog before and I was not interested at first. But Sepoy guaranteed me complete anonymity and after a while I agreed and took the pseudonym Lapata. “Lapata” in Hindi-Urdu can mean anonymous, but also ‘disappeared.’ I had disappeared from my life as an academic, my vocation for fifteen years. I also began to sign my paintings with “Lapata,” because they were only seen online, and on Chapati Mystery for a couple of years. A part of me also wanted to escape the legacy contained within my real name, I suppose, that of my grandfather, Norman Rockwell. I wanted to make art without the burden of expectations that come with that identity.

 Was there a certain amount of hesitation about revealing yourself as Lapata?

Yes, I was happy with remaining anonymous, but after a while I realized that in the absence of any input from me, people invented their own story of my identity. It was clear that I was assumed to be Pakistani, mostly because Sepoy is, I suppose. I decided I’d rather have my own baggage than some invented identity, so I slowly went public, starting with my first art exhibit in San Francisco in 2008. I do continue to blog under that name, though, and all my paintings are signed in Urdu with “Lapata.”

Writing vs. painting. If you were forced to pick just one which would it be and why?

When I was an academic, I did pick one, and that was writing, of course. I stopped thinking of myself for an artist for quite some time. But I was very depressed. I didn’t even think I was going to leave academia to do art, I just knew I had to leave. But when I started to paint again, I realized that it was something I couldn’t live without, like eating or sleeping. Writing is very important to me too, but I suppose I could live without it if I had to.

How has the birth of your daughter refined your artistic process?

That’s a good question. Having a child refines your sense of available time, because all of a sudden you don’t have any. I have become much more efficient in my use of time, and, surprisingly, much more productive. I had a show opening in Canada recently, where someone came up and asked me what I did to get my mind off all the horrible things I’m obviously obsessed with (terrorists, torture, etc.). I said, “I have a two-year-old.” She said, “Ah, I understand now.”

How do you describe “The Little Book of Terror?” A collection of essays? An art book?

It’s both. In my creative process, the art usually comes first, but in some cases a project evolves in tandem, words and images come to me at the same time. It doesn’t take that long to read, because the art is part of what you are meant to ‘read.’ In that sense, it’s similar to a graphic novel. I am a great admirer of that genre, but, unfortunately, I do not have what it takes to pull off that kind of work. Let’s call it an art book with words. Or a words book with art.

Tell me about the cover of your book, it’s a very provocative pose. A young hijabi woman with a gun in her right hand sits cradled in the arms of a young man (ostensibly her lover), also armed. It’s a jarring portrait.

That painting is based on a photograph of the young woman who allegedly suicide bombed the Moscow subway in 2010. Her name was Dzhanet Abdullayeva and she was seventeen years old. The photo was a self-portrait of her with her husband, who had earlier been killed by Russian forces. I remember when I first saw the photo of her on the cover of the New York Times at a rest stop somewhere in Vermont. It’s the kind of grainy, low quality self-portrait people use on their Facebook pages. I couldn’t get it out of my head, which is usually how a painting starts for me.

In the introduction to your book, Amitava Kumar writes, “I think of Daisy Rockwell’s portraits as a bright, playful gallery composed of pictures that terrorists themselves might put up on their Facebook pages.” Comment.

Perhaps? I kind of imagine terrorists as being subscribers to some service other than Facebook, such as Orkut.

What’s your favorite portrait in the set?

I don’t like to play favorites with my paintings. It’s sort of like asking which of my children I like the best (luckily I only have one of those). I am very fond of portrait of John Walker Lindh, it’s nice and colorful, and empathize with his desire to really immerse himself in learning a language. The cover portrait I’m obviously attached to as well. But really, I love them all equally.

What have been the reactions to your book? The portraits are charmingly idyllic, but feature some of the most divisive figures in history. Can you tell me about the most negative reactions to them?

Well the book is just out, so I have not had that many reactions yet. But I’ve exhibited many of the paintings in different places, and weirdly I have had no negative reactions at all. I’m not sure why, but it might be because the message is ambiguous. Although there is a lot of sympathy in my portraits, I don’t think people think I am saying, “Go, terrorists!” My goal is to provoke thought and reflection, rather than to take sides.

Plans to publish again? This particular book features only a smattering of your paintings.

Definitely there is material for more publications, but I’m not sure which direction I want to go in yet. I also have some books just made out of words in the pipeline, so look out for those!

Dark Girls: Preview from Bradinn French on Vimeo.

And just in case anyone thinks Fair & Lovely ads are more for their parents’ generation than their own, take a peek at MTV India’s “Shed Your Sleeves” campaign, which features Nivea products that ostensibly promote fairer skin. (Hat tip to Nila.) More specifically, “NIVEA whitening deodorant repairs damaged skin to give you fairer underarms.” The product purports to lighten skin through licorice extracts that “counter skin darkening.” Give me a break.

This deodorant contains plant extract, licorice, a traditional skin lightening agent which cuts melanin production. Another major constituent of this deodorant is witch hazel extracts from its leaves, barks and branches. It also has an astringent property that helps soothe the skin and repair any small wounds or itching. The effects of Whitening last 48 hour at one go and claims to repair underarm skin and make it fairer and even toned.

The product is being promoted by a television ad campaign that communicates the product benefits and is running across mainline channels focused on women in the age group of 15-34 years. Nivea has also teamed up with youth music channel, MTV, to undertake a series of below the line activities starting with ‘Shed Your Sleeves, the Biggest Freedom Movement for Women’. [Link.]

The ad cleverly uses social media marketing to attract a younger audience, encouraging girls to share pictures of themselves wearing sleeveless clothing on MTV India’s Facebook page, which has over 2 million fans. (I took a look at the page, but couldn’t find more than one photo.) It also gives consumers the option to put “Shed Your Sleeves” banner ads on their personal Facebook page. Good job, Nivea. Preying on the fears of young girls under the banner of “empowerment.” I applaud your strategy. And boys, Nivea features a similar product for you as well, should you become too comfortable in your skin.

Young ladies of a certain age – live your life. Don’t skip out on the beach, the pool, tennis lessons or whatever this summer because you fear the sun. You don’t need creams, deodorants or Facebook apps to be beautiful. So go ahead, show a little skin.

Two decades ago, Allure conducted a study with 1,000 men and women called “What Beauty Means to You.” A clear picture of what was considered beautiful emerged – and her name is Christie Brinkley. But the last 20 years have brought major changes to our nation – and no where is this more evident than our ideas of who is considered most beautiful. The new celebrity “ideal” according to Allure is now Angelina Jolie. But here’s what’s really interesting. Allure also showed photos of non-celebrity models and asked respondents to rank the person who was most attractive. The top winners? A Latina female and a South Asian male (identified as a person of Indian descent).

Could it be that desi men in America have successfully re-branded themselves into sex symbols? Yes. We win. But let’s be honest, did we really need a survey to figure this out? Just take a look at the media hits desi guys have been getting lately. Only a few days ago, Lindsay Lohan cozied up to hotelier Vikram Chatwal, which quickly got the tabloids buzzing.

And of course, there was that New York Times piece on our (okay, my) favorite desi pretty boy, Waris Ahluwalia, who has been making beautiful jewelry over at House of Waris. (And if you really want to see pretty, take a look at Waris in this video released by Vogue in February. Tangent: Let the record show that I was in love with Mr. Ahluwalia ever since his first appearance in friend Wes Anderson’s The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. And I will continue to be in love with him despite his appearance in that awful film that came out last summer, I Am Love. You know why? Cause that man is gorgeous. B-e-a-u-t-i-f-u-l.

So for this post, let us raise an invisible glass to desi men everywhere. And of course, how could there be a post where I marginalize men if I didn’t link to this Tumblr celebrating desi men for their hotness, errr, I mean many accomplishments. [NSFW, possibly?]

“Mooni! Hey Mooni! Gadherini! Do you know I’m going to hit you? I’m going to beat you up, dirty girl! Every time I’m calling you and you’re not answering the phone!

And what is this “micro-bicro-bixie-dixie”?! You went San Francisco, you went to cut off my nose in San Francisco?! Don’t you know in San Francisco they have all those gadherini lesbian girls? What is all this lesbian stuff you’re doing, this Yoni Ki Baat “yon-ki-baat”, what is all that? Shameless girl, don’t you have any shame? [ASIDE TO HER HUSBAND: Hey Kaka, you see that girl she's going to cut off my nose did you hear this girl? She's opening (her legs)...]. Tell me, you’re not standing on stage with all your clothes taken off are you? Hai, hai! Who on earth will marry you? Who’s going to wed you?! How can you talk this nonsense?! This vageena, vageena-talking about your yoni ki baat gadherini? Hei?! You’re going to stop all this micro-bicro-pixie type stuff! Who will want to marry you? Which boy will marry you? Don’t you have any shame talking about all this dirty, disgusting stuff? As if one could ever talk about these things! Disgusting girl! When we were little we never spoke about this thing. What is this vageena talking-talking all the time? As if a vageena can even say anything, you brainless girl! As if, when you go and piss, you can talk with it! Don’t do all these things! Don’t you cut off my nose! Do you hear me?! Or I’ll give you one big whack. And make sure you phone your aunty soon… shameless girl!” [youtube]

The show was started by the South Asian Sisters here in San Francisco in an effort to bring a South Asian version of the Vagina Monologues to the scene. In it’s seventh season, Yoni Ki Baat has been replicated in cities all across the nation. I had the chance to check out the show in Los Angeles, but am looking forward to the show in San Francisco on March 5th and 6th. If you are in the area, I highly suggest you check out the show – but buy your tickets now, the show sells out every year.

Are any of you planning on being at the show? If so, maybe we can plan a Sepia Mutiny San Francisco meetup before the show…? Do let me know in the comments!

On a first time trip into the heart of India, I fell instantly for a soft spoken, aristocratic man. He was tall, built, and well dressed. His voice was deep and husky, his eyes dark and intense, his skin the color of caramel. He spoke in precise words; his accent adding a musical quality. We spent hours together, which turned into days, then weeks…

This brings to mind a couple of questions. (“Who is this man and where can I find him?” are not among those questions because my mom reads this site and if you’re reading this post mom, let’s talk purity & proposals later, okay?) A commenter on the post says it best, “I’m surprised no one’s mentioned the “exoticism” angle to this pitch–a woman (presumably white) goes to India and picks up a “caramel”-skinned lover. Because third world countries totally exist for our enjoyment, ya know?”

Oh, but they do, dear commenter, they do. Everyone loves them a caramel-skinned-man, right? Right? To learn more about this man, check out the product’s original website which is very, very not safe for work.

And those mints? I would read the disclaimer very carefully if I were you. The words “yeast infection” were mentioned. As for the actual origins of this exotic Indian tasty treat? Sorry to disappoint you, but they’re not from India, they’re made in Jersey. Hmm, could the story be referring to Edison, New Jersey, India? I heard those brothers down the turnpike are real smooth…

Related Posts: Jay Sean’s “Down,” Chew on this, On the Considerable Benefits of Pineapple Juice

I don’t know about you, but I’m heartily sick of the topic. But listening to dark-skinned model talk about it? A dark-skinned desi model? A famous international dark-skinned desi model?

[OMG. Before you even think about arguing whether she's dark or not, just. stop. She thinks she is, mmkay?]

From the MTV Iggy blog archives:

If you’re a non-white woman, how many skin whitening products have you come across? Quick, GO!! (You all thought of Fair & Lovely, didn’t you?) Want to know what a fabulous international supermodel thinks about this?

Meet Lakshmi Menon, runway star, fashion editorial darling, face of Hermès, and a native of Bangalore, India. When it comes skin color and beauty, she would know of what she speaks. And sweet heavens above, does she ever!! Post-colonial hangups, “wheatish” complexions, Lakshmi lays it out:

Poor Stylist Keegan Singh is as dazzled by her intelligence as we are, and can barely keep up! Thoughtful, articulate, and really, really nice (our Iggy production crew raved about how unfussy she was about lighting and makeup…speaking of which, I don’t think she’s wearing any. grr.) Lakshmi blows away the notion that beauty and brains can’t cohabit. We’re too impressed to feel jealous. Dammit.

If the embeded video of the interview doesn’t open, go here to see the full thing. In part 2, Lakshmi and Keegan talk about their backgrounds, fashion trends, and how they began their careers.

“What?” she said innocently, “It’s just suntan lotion so I don’t get dark.” I looked at the ingredient list. Indeed, among the ingredients was “sunscreen.” I shouldn’t have been surprised. This was the same girl who had teased her seven-year old darker-skinned cousin so much that a year later, the poor kid still adamantly states “I’m not pretty.” Little wonder given that our mothers come from a country where bridal makeup still means you pancake the woman in white foundation from the neck-up and then hide her hands under her dupatta so the color disparity doesn’t show. Strangely enough, I never realized the extent of the South Asian obsession with light skin until I was in college. Growing up with mostly Pennsylvania Dutch peers who were openly envious of my “natural tan,” the context in which skin color figured in my upbringing was limited to the African American literature I read in school. Novels like Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye, about a young girl’s desire to be white and Fannie Hurst’s The Imitation of Life, about a young black girl who decided to “pass” as a white girl certainly impressed upon me the importance of skin color in America. I just naively never considered its impact on South Asian culture.

My mother’s preoccupation with skin shades wasn’t revealed until the time my little sister and I went off to camp for the first time, when I was in college. In addition to sunscreen, she bought us both floppy, wide-brimmed hats “to protect your complexion.” When I made a joking reference to tanning, she went ballistic. “Tanning is for goras [white people], not for people like us. We already have enough color.” The topic came up again, after college, when I dated a guy from India. “Make sure you don’t get any color this summer,” she warned me. “Your in-laws won’t like it.”

I thought she was crazy until the guy told me the same thing. “At least wait until after my parents see you,” he groaned, when I told him of of a pool party. “I don’t want them to think you’re darker than you really are.” I was speechless.

Incidents like that are why I’m so happy that Women of Worth, an organization based in Chennai, is promoting a “Dark is Beautiful” campaign. (Thanks to Gem, a mutineer from Colorado who passed on the tip to Nilanjana.) The organization purports to erase the notion that “the beauty and value of an Indian woman is determined by the fairness of her skin.” Check out their video:

Thank goodness someone is trying to counter the obsession with all things fair. Especially since Hindustan Unilever Limited’s Fair & Lovely continues to market itself as a female-friendly brand via promotions such as their “Fair & Lovely Foundation: 2009 Scholarships for Empowering women” contest, as noted by SM’s Vasugi on Twitter. Yes, because fair skin tones are exactly what I need to feel empowered. Keep in mind, this is the same company that released ads like this:

Here’s the blurb for the ad campaign:

Kenneth Cole, one of the world’s leading fashion designers, has launched a worldwide campaign to mark the brand’s 25th anniversary. The focus of his ad campaign is that “we all walk in different shoes”. [Link]

Most of the reaction to it in the Sikh blogosphere has been … well, positively gleeful (chortle, kvell, rejoicing). The one hesitant note comes from the new Sikh group blog The Langar Hall which wonders:

Something else makes me uncomfortable about this ad. Is something that’s supposed to be a symbol of high ideals, if not sacred itself (a sardar’s appearance), being commodified? If it is, is it inevitable that everything will one day be commodified?… [Link]

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To Reema, I reply – ooooh baby, exotify me, commodify me. I can handle it . [And actually, as somebody who has been photographed a fair amount for similar reasons, I will admit it gets weird at times, but c'mon, doesn't Sonny look fly 20 feet tall in Rockefeller Center?]

In response to Abhi’s appeal from last year, there was a desi entrant in this year’s World Beard & Moustache Championships. Meet 30 year old Rundeep Singh, from the UK.

Can you believe Rundeep lost to Jack Passion (on the right) who took first place in the “natural beard” category? C’mon now – which is the better beard? What an outrageous call!

Heck, Rundeep Singh didn’t even place – this guy got second (for what is admittedly a very impressive beard) but this guy got third place. I dunno – neither the first nor third place winners seem as impressive to me as brother Rundeep.

What gives? Next time I want to see a desi who wins by more than a whisker .

Like all lal-blooded desi girls, I’m mildly obsessed with eyebrows.

Like all lal-blooded GIRLS, I’m mildly obsessed with celeb gossip.

Occasionally, the two, they meet.

It is possible that many of you saw photographs of Sienna Miller on the red carpet (there she is! on the right!), doing her damnedest to bring dark and furry back. Well, ABC News was inspired by her “caterpillars”; they have an entire article about what brows signify and the expert whom they quote is none other than Vaishaly Patel, “London’s eyebrow shaper to the stars”.

Vaishaly’s opinion on Sienna’s dark statement?

“Personally I think they look hideous…When you’ve got blond hair the number one rule is not to have black eyebrows. I think they’re a lovely shape but just on the wrong person.”

So, there is a right person.

Take heart, my brown sisters– YOU are that right person!

Bushy is back as far as eyebrows are concerned. So, poor Sienna was just trying to follow fashion. It’s just that not every fashion suits everyone.

Ah, for once, we (and by we, I mean you) win.

For this apparently lowbrow issue, there’s some highbrow analysis. Eyebrows tell a story of cultures, eras and politics. For example, in Iran “un-groomed” is a sign of virginity. The Mexican artist Frida Kahlo sported a unibrow. It became her signature, an expression of independence and feminist strength.

No comment on what brows meant to Bert, and that’s unfortunate.

There is plenty of history-lite, however, including an exploration of whether certain decades inspired severe arches or fierce tufts. Here’s a summary:

-1940s-50s: Eyebrows are shaved off completely, lest a girl seem “masculine”. Owwww.

-1960s: Girls who are boys, who like boys to be girls, who do boys like they’re girls, who do girls like they’re boys– always should be someone you reeeeally love. Free love = furriness.

-1980s: Yuppies are mean and therefore, women over-tweeze. The end.

-Today: Sensitive and enlightened are we. Pluck we do not.

There’s a backlash against the over-plucked brow, according to Jaimineey Patel, manager of a Blink Eyebrow Bar in London. Patel and a phalanx of eyebrow “threaders” are in the trenches, persuading clients to grow back their brows before they gently shape them with twisted thread held between their teeth.

“We always do a thorough consultation,” explained Patel. “We ask them what they want out of their eyebrows.” What can you want from an eyebrow? More than function, apparently. More than a sponge effect to keep sweat out of your eyes.

We want to be as pretty as can be, DUH.

Apparently they frame your face. “To be honest,” confided Patel. “A lot of clients feel they’ve had a facelift because it opens your eyes out.”

I don’t know about a facelift, but I saw someone get their brows done for the first time this weekend, and suddenly, I was aware of the rare color of their irises AND their ridonkulous lashes. Yowza. Best $25 they ever spent, yindeed.

Eyebrows are the new window on the soul. So be careful Sienna, those caterpillars may reveal more than you want us to know.

New?! Not. Desis have known that truth all along. As for Sienna’s caterpillars, like Madonna and Gwen before her, the girl just wants to be down with the brown, obviously.