Mija is a story about families of immigrants. Those alive, those long gone, and those still dreaming. Each season is a self-contained story that follows a different family of immigrants. Season one follows a Colombian family in New York, season two follows a Chinese-Vietnamese family in Paris, and season three follows an Egyptian family in London. The story of each family is told by its own Mija, which means “my daughter” in Spanish.
As I said in the intro, stories of immigration have always fascinated me. The Italian part of my dad’s half of the family came to America via Ellis Island, and eventually found their way to New Orleans. We don’t know too much about the German and Irish parts. Meanwhile, my mom’s side of the family has been here since before the American Revolution. In fact, I had a few ancestors who were part of Jamestown. As is often repeated, all Americans, except for Indigenous people, have ancestors who came here from other lands. It was an interesting experience listening to Mija when I did. Immigration has become a hot-button issue as of late.
So, a bit of terminology before we got forwards. The narrators of season one and two are both called Mija. For the sake of convenience, we shall differentiate them as New York Mija and Paris Mija. Technically, the narrator of season three is also a Mija, but she’s more often referred to as Binty, which means roughly the same thing in Arabic. So, we shall call her Binty.
Season one is, in my opinion, the best of the three main Mija seasons. Season one is a very personal story for Studio Ochenta founder Lory Martinez. She drew upon her own experiences and the stories of her family, with some embellishments, to craft season one of Mija. Unsurprisingly, Lory also provides the voice of New York Mija. It was also from season one that I learned where Studio Ochenta got its name from. New York Mija grew up on Ochenta Street in Queens. I wasn’t familiar with that street. So, I looked it up, and realized that I actually did know it, because Ochenta means Eighty in Spanish. It was in that moment that I knew I had brought shame upon all of my Spanish teachers. And to my mom, who lived in the Panama Canal Zone for a few years during her childhood.
Getting back on topic, I could tell from the first episode that this was a very personal story for Lory Martinez. There was love and affection in every aspect of season one. The way she describes New York and Bogota paints such a vivid picture. I felt like I was there along with the characters. The story of season one is not only a tale about immigration, but also a tale about heritage and culture. We get the story of New York Mija’s parents, and how they made a new life in a new land. But we also get the story of her family members back in Colombia. In fact, even that ties into the theme of immigration. Several of Mija’s family members had to move from the Colombian countryside to Bogota as a result of violence from insurgency groups. It was scary, and hard at times, and certainly wasn’t what they planned for. And yet, they built new lives in a new home.
I often saw shades of my own family in New York Mija’s story. The scene where she reveals that she is part of a group text with several members of her extended family was super relatable. My aunt, uncle, and cousins all live in Temecula, which is a suburb of San Diego. So, naturally, we don’t get to see each other often. But we stay connected with the group text and phone calls. My parents are both from South Louisiana, but had to move to North Louisiana to find work as lawyers. For reference, North Louisiana and South Louisiana are basically two different states. My mom has talk about how hard it was for her to be away from her support network when I was first born. And yet, thirty years later, here we all still are. I also learned what a pollo chico is. It’s a chick that sticks very close to its mother hen. So, a mama’s boy, basically. Mija mentions that her dad and brother are both major pollo chicos. I guess I’m also a pollo chico.
Season one of Mija is a story of surviving and thriving, but there is also a strong undercurrent of melancholy throughout it all. For example, Mija’s maternal grandparents weren’t able to attend her parents’ wedding because the U.S. embassy rejected their visa applications. Then there’s also the reasons why the episodes tend to be ten minutes long. Mija’s father worked as a taxi driver, and often long hours at that. Oftentimes, Mija only had ten minutes each morning to really spend time with him. In the final episode, Mija talks about how her extended family doesn’t often get to be together because of how spread out everyone is, and how difficult travel can be. She also reiterates that many immigrant families face this problem as well.
But there is also hope. Throughout season one we are introduced to the concept of el cacumen. It’s kind of like good luck, but there’s more to it than just that. It's kind of like saying that things might be bad, but we’ll make it through somehow. Clearly, everyone who was part of season one of Mija had el cacumen on their side. The central question throughout Mija is, well, what is home? And where is home, for that matter? The answer that Mija goes with is that, where you have family and friends who love you, then that is your home.
I’m not the only person who thinks that season one of Mija is absolutely fantastic. Lory Martinez was interviewed on NPR’s All Things Considered. She discussed the origins of Mija, and various behind the scenes details. There is a slight irony that Lory Martinez has become an immigrant herself. She moved to Paris in 2015, and it is where Studio Ochenta is based. Apparently, her family didn’t take it well at first, but they came to terms with it once they got to listen to season one of Mija.
Mija is not just devoted to its global scope purely in terms of story. Mija is available in multiple languages. Currently, English and Spanish are the only languages that all four seasons are available in. Seasons one and two are available in French, season two is also available in Mandarin, and season three is available in Arabic. However, Studio Ochenta is working to translate all four seasons of Mija.
With the success of season one, there was the obvious question of what to do as a follow up. There could still be more stories from New York Mija, but that didn’t seem right. Though, Studio Ochenta did eventually release a series of short vignettes set in the life of New York Mija and her family. But no, everyone decided that the story of Mija wasn’t just limited to a Colombian family in New York. There are plenty of Mijas all over the world. The question, then, was where to go next?
Studio Ochenta teamed up with Melanie Hong to tell the story of a Chinese-Vietnamese family living in Paris. Season two had some good ideas, and it certainly meant well. However, it was also plagued by some serious growing pains. It was pretty clear that the Mija team were still trying to figure out exactly what the podcast would be going forward. One theme they wanted to emphasize was the common connections between the stories of immigrants. This is all well and good, but the execution left something to be desired. Several bits of Paris Mija’s dialog are copied almost word-for-word from New York Mjia. This is most apparent in the episode that focuses on Paris Mija herself, and in the final episode, especially the twist at the end. We also get an episode where Paris Mija takes us on a tour of Paris; much as New York Mija showed us around Queens. Good idea, but again, undercut by the self-plagiarized dialogue.
I also feel that season two bit off more than it could chew. In season one, there is certainly a feeling that there’s more to the story of New York Mija’s family than we see. However, with season two, it feels like the Mija team tried to squeeze too many ideas into only eight episodes. Paris Mija is unique in that she has a multiethnic background. However, given the limited scope of the season, I felt we didn’t get to explore the two sides of her heritage as much as we could have. Also, her parents are divorced and she has a stepfather, but this doesn’t factor into the plot as much as you might think. Now, as far as narration, Melanie Hong tried, she really did. Unfortunately, she just couldn’t compete with Lory Martinez’s performance in season one. Part of that was down to the lackluster script, but part of it was due to English not being Melanie‘s first language. There were a few times it was kind of hard to understand her, and I had to rewind the podcast a few times.
Now, I want to be clear here. I did not hate season two. It had it’s flaws, to be sure, but it also had plenty of moments where it shined, especially in the later episodes. That all being said, there was still a lot of room for improvement, and I consider it to be the weakest season of Mija.
It would seem that the Mija team were well aware of the need to iron our the kinks. I’m happy to report that season three saw a notable improvement in quality, and a welcome return to form. I’d also like to take a moment to say how grateful I am that the protagonist of season three had a name other than Mija. It makes writing this review that much easier. Season three is structurally inverted compared to its predecessors. The previous seasons start with Mija, then her brother, her parents, a cousin, her grandparents, and then a family reunion. In season three, we go in reverse order. Occasionally, I had trouble keeping track of who was who, but it didn’t take me long to get the hang of things. In other inversions, instead of a force of good fortune, like el cacumen in season one, we get the evil eye, the bringer of woe and misfortune. Binty’s family always tries to remain humble, and avoid boasting, for fear that they may attract the gaze of the evil eye.
The narration also saw a notable step-up compared to last season. Rana Abdelhamid overall does an excellent job with the narration. My only issues is that Binty has lived most of her life in London, but doesn’t have even the slightest trace of a British accent. It just seems a bit odd. Binty also differs in how her story came to be. Unlike the previous season, there’s not a single writer. Rana Abdelhamid and Mona Elboghdadi are the head writers, while Sadia Azmats and Alya Mooro acted as cultural consultants about the Arab/Egyptian-Londoner experience. So, I would assume that Binty contains elements of all four women, making her something of a Franken-Mija.
Binty and her brother move to New York towards the end of the season. I was wondering if New York Mija was going to make an appearance, but no, this never happens. I suppose that was for the best. Season three is supposed to be Binty’s story; there’s no reason to tie it into the stories of the other Mijas. On that topic, season three did a much better job of showing the common connection among the experiences of Mijas and their families. I felt that it did so in a far more organic way than season two did. There’s no repeated dialog to be found. The episodes are also slightly longer than in the first two seasons. This gives season three a bit more breathing room to tell its story.
Another difference I noticed is that we don’t get an episode where Binty takes us around London. In fact, Binty, and to a lesser extent her family, seems to have something of a disdain for London. We get plenty of loving descriptions of life in Alexandria, but not really any of London. In previous seasons, the Mijas and their families took great pride in their new homelands. The previous Mijas also embraced themselves as the blending of multiple cultures. Binty, by contrast, considers herself to be Egyptian first, and everything else second. Binty mentions that, when she was younger, she tried really hard to assimilate. Then, later in life, she really threw herself into her Egyptian heritage. Though, the impression I got was that she simply swung from one extreme to the other. Compared to the other Mijas, Binty seems to still be struggling to come to terms with her identity, and isn’t totally comfortable in her own skin.
Season three puts more of an emphasis on the bigotry and prejudice that Binty and her family had to overcome. We do get hints of this with the other Mijas, but its more of a background detail. This does add to season three having a more distinct tone compared to its predecessors. That said, I felt that it got laid on a bit thick at times, and occasionally things got a tad preachy. I would argue that season one worked in part because it took a somewhat understated approach when it tackled serious issues. I also have to ding one scene in the episode about Binty’s mom. She grew up in Alexandria, but moved to London to work in the egyptology department at the British Museum. One of the things that strikes her when she moves to London is that she see Muslim women wearing hijab outside of mosque and prayers. Uh, do what now? I find it hard to believe that she wouldn’t have seen that plenty of times in Egypt.
Honestly, though, those two points are really my only critiques of season three. It was a noticeable step up from season two. Season three didn’t quite reach the same heights as season one, but it got very close, and proved to be a worthy successor.
There’s also a spin-off miniseries called Mija Música. It is something of an unofficial fourth season of Mija. It is a notable departure from the main series in terms of style. It follows a young man named Gavilán. He lives in New York, but he is originally from Monterey, Mexico. He has found himself back in Monterey due to his grandfather’s Lolo’s funeral. Lolo was a musician who had a passion for Colombian vallenato music. Gavilán is determined to investigate his grandfather’s music career. Along the way, he’ll explore the history of vallenato, and discover some secrets about his grandfather.
Like I said, it's different, but that’s not a bad thing. I wasn’t familiar with vallenato music, but I had fun learning about it. The episodes are a bit shorter than in the main Mija seasons. Speaking of music, I also wanted to take a moment to discuss the use of music in the main Mija seasons. Each season uses music from its respective immigrant culture to help set the mood. It was one of those little touches I appreciated, and it helped give each season its own feeling. And that is most certainly true of Mija Música as well. You’ll be well acquainted with the many styles of vallenato by the time the miniseries is over.
We’ve had three seasons, and one miniseries, of Mija so far. I certainly hope that this is not the last we’ve heard from Mija. It tells the stories of families of immigrants. Those who leave the land of the birth to seek a better life, those who stay behind, and those with feet in both worlds. It is a celebration of community, culture, and the places we call home. It is absolutely fantastic, and I can’t recommend it enough. Give it a listen today.
Well, I think that should do it from me for now. I will see you guys next time.
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