Never Have I Ever: My Response (Part 2)

BY School of Sexuality Education’S GAYATHIRI KAMALAKANTHAN.

The popular Netflix show Never Have I Ever centres an Indian-American highschool girl exploring her sexuality and her intersectional identity. Part 1 of my response explored some teachable moments within the show on topics such as communication and sex positivity, the virginity myth, the construction of disability as a problem and casteism. 

I enjoyed season 1, however it is important to recognise that there are some problematic issues within the show. As a sex and relationships education facilitator, as well as a practising Hindu, I wanted to map out some parts of the script that I hope can be addressed in series 2. This response will explore themes including Islamophobia, internalised oppression within the south asian community, casteism and Tamil identity.

1. Portrayal and response to Islamophobia

Nalini: That’s Jaya Kuyavar. She came from Chennai, went to UCLA for her doctorate, parents found her a nice boy back home to marry. Then she ran off with an American man. A Muslim. Parents never spoke to her again.

Kamala: Did they come for the wedding?

Nalini: Are you out of your mind? You heard me say he was a Muslim. 

(episode 4)

Speaking from experience, this conversation accurately portrays the Islamaphobic views held by some people that I know in the Hindu, South Asian community. It was disappointing that Kamala did not challenge her aunt’s passive aggressive rejection of Jaya. I wanted her to go and sit with Jaya in bold defiance of Nalini’s casteism and Islamophobia. However, this conflict avoidance did fit with Kamala’s character and spoke to my own experience of wanting to ‘give up’ in what often feels like a losing battle against prejudiced family members. 

Personally, the journey of addressing Islamophobic (and racist / sexist / queerphobic) views held by my family can and has been a slow, angry and damaging process. But what would be the alternative? If we keep choosing silence in order to maintain peace, whilst people casually perpetuate the demonisation of certain communities, nothing will ever change.

I can see why Kamala did not intervene as a bystander in this instance, but as these characters grow in confidence and discover their motivations, the show needs to assert them as people who are willing to stand up for equality. I don’t think it is too much to ask for there to be representation of an Indian person who challenges the exclusion of minority groups - especially given the Indian government’s current right-wing, anti-Muslim stance. 

2. Internalised oppression 

Kamala: So you’re ultimately very happy with your decision, even though you got divorced?

Jaya: Of course not. No. I mean look at me. My closest Indian friend is a woman I met seven minutes ago. No, I wish I had just listened to my family and married the guy that they chose. Then maybe I wouldn’t be divorced. 

At the end of the conversation… 

Jaya: Good luck on your engagement and don’t screw it up, yh?

(episode 4)

I can absolutely understand why this conversation was written. It’s honest and reflective of what continues to happen within the South Asian diaspora. Indeed, ‘what will people think?’ is a question I am constantly battling against. Nevertheless, I found the conclusion of this scene deeply disturbing. It implies that the breakdown of Jaya’s marriage was a consequence of her marrying a Muslim, and not the simple fact that 42% of marriages end in divorce. It deepens and excuses Islamophobia within the community, especially regarding the taboo of interfaith relationships. 

The writers had the perfect opportunity to challenge the current rise in Islamophobia in Indian politics, and to create a healing, empathetic and difference-embracing moment, but failed to do so. They had the chance to portray the power of female-to-female acceptance and empowerment but instead they shamed a woman (Jaya) for making an independent decision about her life, before making her do the same thing to another. This internalised, intergenerational and peer-on-peer oppression needs to stop and we need fair representations to learn from. 

In this report, Equality Labs outlines how caste-based discrimination affects the South Asian American diaspora. As a Tamil British person, I am acutely aware of how the caste system, anti-Blackness and Islamophobia is still at play within my South Asian circles. I have been told multiple times by random members of the community that if I married ‘outside of our caste’ or to a ‘muslim or black man’ (note: zero awareness of queerness), that they would not associate with me thereafter. My response? We need to unlearn hate together. Either that, or I will not associate myself with you. Challenging this kind of bigotry within our communities is a must. 

Equality Labs graph shows % of people rejected by a partner on the basis of caste.

Of course, writers have the right to create whatever they want, but it is my hope that people with privilege use their platforms to challenge oppressive narratives and showcase positive interfaith relationships. 

3. ‘Tamil’ is a language and an ethinic identity

I was delighted to hear Tamil spoken on a Netflix TV show. Finally something to point to when asked ‘what is Tamil?’ 

Maitreyi Ramakrishnan, (Devi in Never Have I Ever), is a young Tamil-Canadian actress and speaks unapologetically about her Tamil-Canadian identity. In one interview she says “my identity isn’t being Sri Lankan. That’s not my country. My country is Canada. But my culture is definitely Tamil”.

In the article, Radheyan Simonpillai explains that ‘like so many Tamil-Canadians, [Maitreyi] comes from a family that escaped war in Sri Lanka and arrived in Canada as refugees. We typically refuse to identify as Sri Lankan because that would mean claiming a country that tried to wipe out our people.’ This is exactly how I feel about my not-home country and why I cringe and change the subject when people make unsolicited comments about how I ‘must visit [my] homeland’.

I love that Ramakrishnan seems to be a no nonsense individual who speaks about her cultural identity with confidence. After the show was released, Ramakrishnan tweeted, ‘Devi does not represent the ENTIRETY of the South Asian community. She is merely one story influenced by real life experience. There are still many stories waiting to be told. This is one of many steps forward in a much longer race. 

I’m definitely here for this and am looking forward to what season 2 could be.

TV is a powerful tool that can shape how we think about sex, identity and relationships. Based on the themes in the show so far,  here’s a round up of what I’d love to see addressed in season 2 : 

• Specific communication and learning about pleasure.

  • How do people learn to kiss their partners in a way which is pleasing to all involved?

  • The experience of learning someone’s body can be funny, silly, clumsy and lovely! How can this be shown authentically?

• Discussion about healthy porn usage, without stigma.

  • The average age that a young person accesses porn for the first time is 11. 

  • How could the show encourage some critical thinking around the realities of sex vs sex we see in porn?

• ‘Menstruation impurity’ taboos within the Hindu community. 

  • Many people within the Hindu community view menstruation as ‘dirty’ and ‘embarrassing’. 

  • This, along with a lack of teaching on menstrual literacy has resulted in menstruating people being banned from temples as well as high absenteeism and drop out rates from school. 

  • How can the show address this long standing taboo? 

• Caste-based discrimination, why it continues and how it can be challenged at an individual/community/national level. 

  • Can Devi and/or Kamala challenge their family on their caste-based choices?

  • Is this something that can be brought up at one of Devi’s Model UN days? 

• Islamophobia, why it continues and how it can be challenged at an individual/community/national level. 

  • Could the show model a positive Muslim-Hindu relationship/friendship? 

  • Could Devi challenge and unpack her community’s prejudice in a conversation with her mum? 

  • Could this be discussed in a school lesson? 

Check out our Teachable Moments for students.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.

Support organisations:

• NSPCC

• Relate 

• Switchboard LGBT 

• MEND

• Dalit Solidarity Network UK

Never Have I Ever: My Response (Part 1)

by School of Sexuality Education’s gayathiri kamalakanthan.

When I found out that Never Have I Ever centred a Tamil girl exploring her sexuality, I was hyped. Devi’s lines from the trailer could have been lifted from my own secret diaries. 

Here’s my reaction the day before the show was released: 

Having watched the show, it’s clear that Mindly Kaling, Lang Fisher and their team were big on representation and curiosity around sex. While I embrace the long-overdue representation in Never Have I Ever, it is important to recognise that the show has some problematic themes that could be addressed in season 2.

Monica M, for Wear Your Voice writes that the show ‘furthers old tropes [including] anti-Blackness, casteism, misogyny, islamophobia and fatphobia’. They go on to speak about the ableism, anti-Semitism and colourism also evident within the show. Furthermore, Shivani Persad, for Flare, explores more themes that I have avoided duplicating here. They talk about the reference to indentured servants, different ableism issues, the manipulative pursuit and disposability of Jonah as a gay man and privilege. 

Some of these troubling themes, alongside the more empowering ones, create great teachable moments and open up dialogues for viewers and creators alike. As a sex and relationships education facilitator, as well as a practising Hindu, I wanted to map out how we might discuss some of these themes constructively and learn from them. 

Part 1 of my response will explore some teachable moments on topics such as communication and sex positivity, the virginity myth, the construction of disability as a problem and casteism. Part 2 will explore themes including Islamophobia, internalised oppression within the south asian community and Tamil identity.

1. Unembarrased communication and sex positivity 

Devi: I was wondering if you would ever consider... having sex with me?

(pause)

Paxton: Yh. OK. Just sex right?

Devi: Just sex. 

Paxton: I’m down, but I can’t tonight. 

Devi: Wow okay!

(episode 1)

I felt uplifted watching this scene. Two young people had communicated about having sex, without shame or coercion. Devi asked for what she wanted, using language and a tone that told Paxton he was free to say ‘no’.

If I were showing this in a classroom, I would ask students what was meant by ‘sex’. Students may respond with ‘penis in vagina intercourse’, and then quickly add in ‘oral sex’, ‘anal sex’, ‘using fingers’, when asked about different bodies, sexualities and preferences. It’s important that we avoid using the word ‘sex’ to imply the heteronormative penis-in-vagina sex that many of us don’t have. 

To truly be inclusive of all identities, we need to unlearn the idea that there is one, ‘normal’ way of having sex. Specific communication around what kinds of sexual touching someone finds pleasurable is important to ensure that everyone feels safe and comfortable. Definitions of sex are personal and can include any sexual touching (by ourselves or with others), that arouses us. Bloom’s 4 minute video is a good starter to a more inclusive idea of ‘sex’. 

Illustration by Evie Evie Karkera

2. The virginity myth 

Devi: Now I want to talk about a major event that could happen this week! Popping my cherry, Doc. The statistical odds that I would lose my virginity to somebody that hot are incredibly low. 

(episode 2)

The show has some honest depictions of the pressures that come from the constructs of ‘virginity’ and ‘beauty’. It’s also great that we see Devi discussing her anxieties with her therapist. It tells us that everyone has mental health and helps to open up this taboo subject within the South Asian diaspora. Below is how I would unpack this scene further.

The idea of ‘virginity’ and the ‘loss’ of it is made up by society. It is not fixed in any biological facts and nothing is lost during sexual contact, neither physically nor morally.  In an earlier blog post, Katy Elliott writes, ‘The hymen [and therefore ‘cherry-popping’] is a myth. Like many people, I thought a hymen was a stretchy piece of cling film-like membrane which covered the vaginal opening. I thought it was the same for everyone and you could break it by inserting a tampon, riding a horse, or having penis-in-vagina sex. Turns out that isn’t the case.’ She goes on to explain about the vaginal corona - a ring made up of partially covering folds of tissue, that looks different in all bodies, which isn’t ‘broken’ or ‘changed forever’ upon contact. 

How someone thinks about virginity (if they do at all) is up to them. They define what is sex for them and whether using a term like ‘virgin’ is useful in their lives.

3. Abuse turns to affection 

Ben: We call you the UN because you’re unf*uckable nerds

Later on in the series...

Devi: I wish the Nazis would kill Ben.

(episode 1 and 2)

Ben and Devi, comically characterised as ‘nemeses’ have an emotionally abusive relationship. They intimidate, criticise, publicly humiliate and undermine each other. Ben’s name-calling serves to lower Devi’s self-confidence, self-esteem and perception of her own body image.

Devi’s comment to Ben is violent, anti-Semitic and unacceptable. Arguably, both lines are realistic in the context of the show and demonstrate a common kind of discourse between teenagers. Amanda Silberling, in their article for Alma, writes, ‘I don’t blame viewers who can’t shake off the comment as quickly as Ben does when she apologizes to him. What’s perhaps more potentially harmful than Devi’s comment, though, is the depiction of Ben’s Jewish identity, which rarely feels more developed than these cheap punchlines.’ 

Turning abusive characters into romantic interests tells young people that humiliation and name-calling is to be tolerated and even expected in relationships. We need to unlearn this all too familiar ‘abuse is redeemed through romance’ trope.

4. Disability constructed as a problem

Eleanor: This is worse than if it were happening to me. In protest, I shan’t use my legs either.

(episode 1)

In the show, Devi suffers from paralysis, where she loses the use of her legs for three months. Then one day, whilst struggling for a closer view of her crush, she suddenly stands and walks. Thereafter, Devi’s disability is often referred back to as a punchline, unchallenged except for a few eye-rolls. 

Penny, on their  feelingdoughnut YouTube channel talks about the issue of ableism in Never Have I Ever. They say, ‘[Comments about disability in the show] are harmful because it teaches young disabled people that they are a problem, that their disability is a problem that has to be solved in order for them to fit into society...it’s offensive because it implies that we should not be comfortable in our own skin, that we should aim to find a cure; that that should be our life’s purpose...because disability is so horrible. 

Based on the social model of disability, Stonewall’s Disability Inclusion Webinar (April 2020) provides more information on how individuals and organisations can ensure better inclusivity. 

5. Hindu Nationalism and Casteism

‘Our Pandit in an Uber? What’s next, Prime Minister Modi on Postmates? Over my dead body.’ 

(episode 4)

I found Nalini’s reverential mention of India’s Prime Minister Narendra Modi shocking. Neither her family nor the priest in the car batted an eye-lid, giving us the impression that this upper caste Brahmin family (like many in real life), revel in their caste privilege and are supporters of India’s right wing BJP party. True to life as this may be, I was expecting more from our leading family. 

The line may seem like a throwaway comment, but to many, BJP support is what is tearing India apart.  In my attempt to find a silver-lining, I came to the conclusion that we could use this scene to start a dialogue with young viewers on what the U.N. human rights office has called ‘fundamentally discriminatory’ politics. 

Since Modi’s re-election in 2019, the BJP have been working hard on delegitimising the citizenship of Muslim Indians and other marginalised groups, by leaning on ideas of ‘caste-purity’ and Hindu nationalism. Among other exclusionary steps, the Citizenship Amendment Act (CAA), passed in December 2019, drives the BJP ideology of a ‘Hindu-only India’. It explicitly seeks to displace India’s Muslim population, as well as making it near impossible for other marginalised groups (including poorer, lower caste, trans and nonbinary hijra communities) to prove citizenship due to lack of access to documentation.

Read further examples of Modi’s and other BJP leaders’ hate speech against marginalised groups.

Of course, it’s important to recognise colonialism’s role in promoting and cementing the Hindu-Muslim conflict.  Historian Audrey Truschke explains that ‘the British benefited from pitting Hindus and Muslims against one another and portrayed themselves as neutral saviors who could keep ancient religious conflicts at bay.’  Her research challenges the assumption that ‘the Muslim presence has always been hostile to Indian languages, religions and culture.’ In fact, this ‘more divisive interpretation actually developed during the colonial period from 1757 to 1947.’

We cannot separate ourselves from our politics - and this includes the entertainment we consume in the name of ‘self-care’. Yes, I want representation, but not at the expense of other oppressed groups. 

In Part 2 I will explore more teachable moments and what I’d love to see addressed in the next series.

Check out our Teachable Moments resources here.

Support organisations:

• NSPCC

• Relate 

• Switchboard LGBT 

• MEND

• Dalit Solidarity Network UK

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.

About Abortion Series: 3 - Abortion as a Healthcare Issue

WRITTEN BY School of Sexuality Education’S DR EMMA CHAN.

A friend rang me late the other night. He’s a keen runner and had fallen over while training and hurt his leg. He was now in a lot of pain and extremely anxious that he’d broken it. He didn’t want to go to his local doctor - he’d torn a ligament in his knee training for an Ultra Marathon a couple of years ago.  His GP had made it very clear that she morally disapproved of runners. She’d refused to deal with him herself. Instead, she sent him to a colleague, saying that she ‘conscientiously objected’ to treating people who injured themselves ‘taking unnecessary risks through endurance tasks’. 

Luckily though, he’d found a Walk-In Fracture Clinic that accepted self-referrals. Would I come with him to his appointment tomorrow for moral support? I agreed.

On the day, approaching the clinic was daunting. There was a group of Anti-Athletics Protesters outside. They didn’t try to physically stop us going in, but it was still unpleasant.  One shouted at my friend that he was ‘wasting NHS resources’. Another thrust a pamphlet into my hands. It was full of statistics on how much sporting injuries cost the health service and how many nurses’ salaries this was equivalent to. 

The Clinic staff were all really nice and professional. They asked some odd questions though - for example, had my friend considered switching from running to yoga? The operation was scheduled a few days later and was uneventful. I’m still in touch with my friend, but we don’t talk often about this particular time. 

This story is of course, completely made up. As a description of medical care, it seems pretty bizarre. The blame, the moral judgement, the angry protesters getting between an individual and their treatment - all seem jarring in the context of getting help for a broken leg. These kind of experiences are common however, to those trying to access an abortion. In the UK, as in many countries, we accept standards of care and legislation around abortion that would seem laughable in relation to most other areas of health.

I am a facilitator with School of Sexuality Education, delivering Sex and Relationships Education to young people in the UK. My background is in health: I have trained and worked as a junior doctor, including within services that provide abortion care. As far fetched as the attitudes I have described might seem, we shall see that they neatly describe accessing abortion care in many parts of the world, including the UK.

An abortion is a medical treatment to end a pregnancy. This is done by either taking medication or having a (relatively) minor surgical procedure (1). It is sometimes also referred to as a ‘termination of pregnancy’. It is very common for someone to have had an abortion, much more so than most people imagine. According to the World Health Organisation, one in four pregnancies ends in a termination, with over 55 million abortions taking place a year worldwide (2). It might also surprise some in the UK to learn that providing or seeking an abortion in the UK is still technically a crime. It’s just that there are separate provisions under the law which allow it to take place under certain circumstances (3). 

So, we have a situation where a very common type of healthcare is regulated in a very unusual way. This can create legal and practical challenges in using and providing such services. For example, services have to be designed to accommodate the need for two doctors to agree to a termination. A legal requirement which some practitioners say impacts their ability to provide appropriate care (4). 

Within UK medical practice, there also exists the principle of ‘conscientious objection’. This is a rule that allows doctors to not provide help with terminating a pregnancy if it is at odds with their personal values (5). It is reasonable easy to find examples of conscientious objection around abortion care in the UK (6) whilst I have not heard to it used in relation to other types of treatment. Indeed in my imagined story I gave above, it seems laughable. 

There are, of course, safeguards to invoking conscientious objection, including that using it should not delay a patient’s care (7). But I wonder how this plays out in practice? If your GP refused you healthcare, would you know that they were still obligated to make sure that you had it? How comfortable would you be in approaching other doctors for help, or the same GP for other issues in the future? 

It is not uncommon for healthcare professionals to facilitate people in making decisions about their bodies and care that they think are unwise or downright wrong. Treating someone with a sports injury, so that they could continue to put strain on their body as with my ‘friend’, is a relatively common if less emotive one. 

Pregnant people may have a very diverse set of personal, practical and medical reasons for wanting to end their pregnancy. Medico-legal laws and practices around the world act to question and challenge those healthcare decisions and take away personal health autonomy. 

Worldwide, the laws surrounding abortion vary hugely. Not just in terms of whether or not abortion is allowed, but under what circumstance and under what conditions (8). This map from the Centre for Reproductive Rights broadly outlines these. You can use it to compare and contrast restrictions on abortion laws globally. This gives some indication of health inequalities created by a morals-based attitude to healthcare. A woman in the Ukraine who feels she does not have the resources to care for a child adequately may be able to access a legal abortion. Someone in neighbouring Poland cannot, as they are only legal in cases of conception from rape or to preserve health. Terminations of pregnancy are available ‘on request’ (because the pregnant person deems it necessary) in Mozambique, but under no circumstances in the nearby state of Madagascar (8). 

Human Rights Campaigners often say that criminalising abortions doesn’t stop them from happening, it only stops them from being safe. This refers to the idea that for some pregnant people, terminating their pregnancy feels like the only option, and that this procedure will be sought out, whether it is legal or not. 

It is estimated that 25 million ‘unsafe’ abortions occur a year, globally - most of these in low income countries (9). If we recognised that abortion was a healthcare right, we would see it is a vital service. When this is not provided safely, unnecessary deaths occur. 

Framing abortion care as a moral issue, rather than as a health one, leaves it open to challenge. In law, abortion on request is legal in the United States, but the extent of that is determined locally by each state (8).  Additionally, employers are under no obligation to ensure that abortion care is provided as part of their employee’s work-based health insurance. In 2014 the Hobby Lobby Stores successfully argued that providing contraception amounted to abortion, which conflicted with the company owner’s religious beliefs. As a result they provide neither contraception nor abortion care to their employees along with the rest of their healthcare (10). If abortion is not seen as a basic healthcare need, but a moral issue, it becomes optional to provide it. As abortion is so common, this impacts the health and wellbeing of a huge number of people. 

Why, then, is abortion often framed morally, in a way many other health issues are not? I believe an important factor is misogyny. Whilst people of various genders get pregnant and also choose to terminate pregnancies, historically the burden of reproductive labour has fallen to women. At the same time, the power to make laws has been disproportionately held by men. When looking at the stark difference between the gender of the population (51% women) and the law makers (85% men) involved in the Alabama Abortion Ban, one BBC Journalist posed the question, ‘Should men have a say in the debate (11)?’

Another tendency is for discussion around abortion to get emotive, quickly. Some people argue that the right to pro-life beliefs it is an inviolable and inalienable one. I agree. But importantly, I also recognise that it extends to personal autonomy only. If you believe that abortion is wrong then it is wrong… for you. As already noted, abortion care is hard to access or illegal in many areas of the world. And where it is legal, this often faces pushbacks and challenges. All of this is rooted in historical gender power imbalances. 

The question is: what can we do about it? 

It’s not easy, but perhaps we can start with education. In the first article in this series, Sara Haller outlined her experiences of teaching about abortion in Northern Ireland and the importance to young people of honest and accurate information about their bodies (12). 

There is perhaps some hope in England, with the updated sex education curriculum, which comes in to effect in September 2020 and requires young people to learn about ‘options in pregnancy’ (13). Perhaps allowing abortion to be discussed as a health topic can help to normalise this common procedure. 

That is certainly the hope of Dr Corrina Horan, head of Education for Choice, a group of volunteer medical students and doctors who teach about abortion care in UK schools. Corrina says she was motivated to get involved after learning how common a procedure abortion was, and by her medical school training which emphasised that it should be treated as routine healthcare. 

Perhaps another important strand is reflecting critically about the depictions of abortion we come across.  In the second article in this series, Tanya Horeck discussed 21st Century TV portrayals of teenage abortion (14). Being empathetic and open to the need for many different types of pregnant people to obtain an abortion could be powerful. It can challenge some of the incorrect biases and assumptions we may have. 

Important too perhaps, is educating and discussing abortion outside of schools as well as within them. As we have seen, abortion care really is a ‘live’ and current issue, with reproductive rights seemingly constantly up for grabs. Unlike other issues of gender equality and rights, it is not something that has been won and is over. 

I am writing this from my own home, during the worldwide lockdown due to the Covid-19 pandemic. From behind closed doors the right to access safe and legal abortion care is being challenged. Many countries have used lockdown rules to restrict access to healthcare. For example in the US, travelling to access an abortion has been deemed ‘non-essential’ and therefore not permissable. Other countries have actively used this time to push through anti-abortion legislation, such as Argentina or Poland (15). 

Someone who has voiced particular concern about contemporary abortion reform is Mania Lewandowska, a postgraduate student in Reproductive and Sexual Health in London, who is originally from Poland. Mania has been writing and talking about her concerns over the Polish Government’s actions towards abortion care since lockdown began. Examples include a proposed bill read in Parliament to completely forbid abortions. Abortion is currently only allowed in cases to preserve health. Although the bill was deferred, there are concerns that this was seen as a priority during this time. Mania also reports that a controversial pro-life activist has been officially recognised and honoured by the Ministry of Health during the country’s lockdown. The priorities and aims of the Polish Government surrounding abortion care seem very clear at this time, and they are not to ensure safe and legal healthcare. 

As we have seen, attempts to erode reproductive freedoms abound. We need to recognise that abortion plays an important role in reproductive freedom and start defending it like it matters. We have the medical expertise to improve the wellbeing of literally millions of people around the world, by providing decent abortion care. We wouldn’t accept the current standards of care for fixing broken limbs. We mustn’t accept this for reproductive healthcare.  

Acknowledgements: 

Thanks to Mania Lewandowska, Dr Corrina Horan, Sara Haller and Dr Tanya Horeck for their advice and support with writing this article.

Illustrations by Evie Karkera, unless otherwise credited.

Our book ‘Sex Ed: An Inclusive Teenage Guide to Sex and Relationships’​ ​ is out​ ​now.