I’m still not clear if in the Netflix series, magical powers are the result of an X-Men–style genetic mutation, or if the Grisha are a race. The Grisha arguably suffer the most discrimination in the series, but though magical powers seem inherent and inherited, the Grisha themselves are ambiguously positioned. I found it cathartic, the perfect fantasy retort I will never actually say-but it also made me realize that Alina is the only character whose arc is built around overcoming racism. Alina defiantly defines herself by her abilities-not, as everyone else has, by her appearance. It’s a crowning moment of magical achievement, and a refutation of the racist stereotypes imposed on her. ( Spoilers follow.) “Your first words to me were, ‘What are you?’ This is what I am,” she says to General Kirigan as she blasts the Fold with her sun summoning powers.

The palace maids sneer that Alina smells, and advise Genya, a magical make-up artist, to make Alina’s eyes “less Shu.” Genya brushes off this, the most painful and most familiar anti-Asian attack, with a breezy, “I don’t care that you’re part Shu.” (A bystander’s indifference isn’t at all reassuring when other people have just made it clear that they care.)Īlina is labeled a half-breed perpetual outsider with odd eyes so many times, but the climax of the first season gives her a chance to push back. Another Grisha, a magical practitioner who can manipulate specific types of matter, calls Alina a half-breed.

A cartographer assumes Alina was born in Shu Han. Each episode includes some race-based insult or attack. The orphaned Alina is therefore both of her parents’ identities and neither, and looked down on for it. The only things we know about Alina’s parents are that they are dead and of specific fantasy races. So the Queen asks again: “Then what are you?” Not Ravkan, apparently, as declared by one of the heads of state, but not Shu because of her looks and lack of fluency in Shu-and certainly not enough, a feeling I wish wasn’t so familiar. The Queen turns to her translator, still not addressing Alina directly, and asks them to tell Alina good morning, which forces Alina to admit she doesn’t speak Shu- a moment that reminded me of all the times I have had to awkwardly admit I don’t speak Cantonese or Mandarin.

A person of color embodying a role that’s only half-tailored to fit them makes for dissatisfying and often confusing viewing-like unexpectedly seeing yourself in a funhouse mirror when you wanted a regular one.

Shadow and bone by leigh bardugo