The actor-filmmaker reflects on growing up brown in 1970s America, Hollywood hurdles, and why his 2015 film feels more relevant than ever.

Known to many television viewers as Dr. Raj on Grey’s Anatomy, Anjul Nigam has built a career that spans acting, writing, and producing. From playing “Batguy” at children’s birthday parties to surviving in Hollywood to launching films with Alec Baldwin, his journey reflects both persistence and reinvention.

Long before “brown” became part of Hollywood’s diversity vocabulary, Nigam was already carving out his own path in a film industry structured around whiteness. His journey began at home, persuading his Indian immigrant parents that a life in entertainment was not only legitimate but also worthy, and continued through Hollywood’s tightly guarded corridors, where access and opportunity have often been dictated by connections—and color.

In 2015, Nigam distilled pieces of that wide-eyed immigrant childhood into Growing Up Smith, a semi- autobiographical film set in small-town America of the 1970s, when punk was emerging, and bell bottoms swayed on disco floors. The film captures, with tenderness and humor, what it meant to grow up brown when this difference was impossible to ignore.

Fast-forward to 2025, in an America where immigrant invisibility has given way to ubiquitous presence—where desi grocery stores sit alongside Michelin- starred Indian restaurants, where CEOs named Nadella and Pichai lead global corporations, and where debates over H-1B visas rage louder than ever. In this context, Growing Up Smith feels even more relevant today than when it first premiered.

In this conversation, he speaks openly about belonging, ambition, racism, love, and the meaning of the American Dream across changing political and cultural eras.

Even as he looks back, Nigam is very much moving forward: his latest project, Red Card, co-produced with Djimon Hounsou and Halle Berry, is a sweeping, true-events-inspired thriller that moves from Kenya’s Maasai Mara to Casablanca, and confronts the global human cost of human trafficking.

Your recently announced project, Red Card, is making headlines. Tell us more about the film, its star cast, the production timeline, and your role as a producer.

Red Card has been greenlit and is scheduled to go into production in 2026. Release dates haven’t been set yet. I came on board early, when the project was still taking shape. The idea originated with an organization working in the anti-trafficking space that wanted to use cinema to raise awareness of the issue among a broad audience. I spearheaded the packaging—bringing together writers, director, star talent, distribution elements, and the remaining financing.

Tell us about your childhood in rural America, when there were far fewer people who looked like you.

I arrived in the United States in September 1967 as a two-year-old with my two older brothers and my parents. Much of what I “remember” from that time comes from my parents’ stories, told so often that they feel inseparable from my own memories: My mother grocery shopping in a sari during her first New England winter, riding a public bus with three toddlers and bags in hand. News from India arriving by aerogramme, the scent of home still clinging to the paper. Running into another Indian family at a store and ending up being invited to each other’s homes for dinner.

We were building a small community—our own little India—sharing meals of daal, roti, raita, and achaar, and playing carrom on orange shag carpeting. Some of those families are still among our closest friends today. It was a simpler time.

Growing Up Smith feels deeply authentic. How does your experience compare with your children’s, and does the American Dream still exist?

The film contains elements of my own childhood, but it’s also a tribute to universal experiences—first love, childhood heroes, and being the new kid on the block. That universality is why the movie has resonated so widely.

My kids, who are now 22 and 16, have grown up with the world at their fingertips. For them, being an outsider isn’t about ethnicity or culture so much as it is about personality and passions.

As for the American Dream, it’s still there. To me, it’s about identifying how you want to contribute to making the world a better place and then figuring out how to do it. This country provides extraordinary tools to pursue that. It’s not easy, and it never was, but persistence pays off. And yes, the efforts are rewarding.

Choosing to make a career in the entertainment industry at a time when there were barely any Indians in it would have seemed unthinkable. How did you navigate that journey?

I announced early on that I wanted to be an actor, but the foundation really took shape in the mid-1980s when I applied to colleges with strong acting programs. I was accepted at NYU and earned a BFA in drama.

After graduating in 1989, I moved to Los Angeles and spent five years paying my dues—waiting tables, catering, delivering broadcast reels, and performing at kids’ parties as “Batguy” or “Huge Yellow Bird” because the company didn’t have licensing rights for the original Batman or Sesame Street’s Big Bird. Acting jobs came sporadically, mostly one-line roles.

Ironically, theater changed everything. I was cast in The Merchant of Venice, performing with the Royal Shakespeare Company in London and later in Chicago. That six-month run gave me confidence and momentum. Eventually, acting led to producing and writing, which allowed me to shape stories more fully. Acting felt like decorating one room; producing meant building the entire house.

What challenges—or advantages—come with being a brown filmmaker in Hollywood today?

Filmmaking always involves obstacles. I don’t find that my biggest challenges are specific to being brown. You can attribute setbacks to identity, or to any number of factors, but my energy is best spent doing the work needed to get a project greenlit. Every build has hurdles. “Woe is me” has never been part of my vocabulary.

Of acting, writing, and producing, which is most fulfilling for you?

I’m excited about making my directorial debut, but for now, I am enjoying wearing multiple hats. Acting lets me shape a room; writing lets me design the blueprint; producing lets me oversee the entire build—from foundation to sale. Each film is a house built from the ground up.

In an era of anti-immigration rhetoric, why do you think America still holds such power for immigrants?

It’s human nature to want to improve one’s circumstances. America’s enduring appeal lies in opportunity—the sense that potential is limitless and imagination unbounded. That promise draws people from everywhere. Maybe that coveted green card really does stand for greener pastures.

Zofeen Maqsood is an extensively published journalist who writes about the Indian diaspora, immigration, culture, and entertainment.