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Thursday, May 16, 2019
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com ARTS

Despite the countless positives 
associated with the recent surge 
in representation within our 
media landscape, it is easy to be 
lulled into a false sense of accom-
plishment. The mere presence of 
diverse faces does not mean that 
the seemingly never-ending jour-
ney toward parity has been com-
pleted. 
That’s right, whites. Put your 
pussy hats back on, this party’s 
far from being over. Currently, 
to be a person of color with a 
platform in the media, your vis-
ibility comes at the cost of your 
individualism. The beast of fame 
is indiscriminate in its scrutiny 
of those in the public eye, but 
only those from marginalized 
groups know the fatiguing extent 
to which their identities amplify 
this magnification. In the same 
way that the only Black kid in 
class is expected to retain a doc-
torate in American slavery by 
middle school, creators of color 
are expected to use their projects 
to speak for an entire community. 
Part of this stems from a long-
standing legacy of underrepre-
sentation. When a people has 
been deprived of representation 
for — well — forever, each starved 
member has ample time to dream 
up their own unique expectations 

that one show cannot possibly 
satisfy. This pattern also stems 
from the long-established nor-
malization of the privileged, and 
the resultant “othering” of every-
one who does not meet a certain 
criterion. Even shows featuring 
niche sects within privileged 
groups, take Irish Catholics for 
instance, 
avoid 
the 
expecta-
tion to speak for all members of 
the 
community. 
This is because, 
as Ramy Youssef 
(“Mr. Robot”), cre-
ator of a new, self-
titled Hulu show, 
 
pointed out in his 
group 
interview 
with The Michi-
gan Daily, privi-
leged groups have 
historically 
been 
afforded the right 
to nuance. Mar-
ginalized groups? 
Not so much. 
Ramy Youssef is 
out to combat this 
norm. 
To 
the 
untrained 
eye, 
“Ramy” 
appears 
to be yet another vehicle for a 
stand-up comedian too lazy to 
think up a title for a show loosely 
based on themselves. There’s 
been 
“Seinfeld,” 
“Roseanne,” 
“Ellen” and even (yes, I’m bring-
ing it up) “Mulaney.” Only this 

time, the old trick comes with a 
layer of complexity unfounded 
in its predecessors: “I think it’s 
really important to have people 
authentically being themselves. 
And I think, for me, my approach 
in calling the show ‘Ramy’ was 
to highlight from the beginning 
that this is just one Arab-Muslim 
story.” 
In developing “Ramy,” Youssef 
made it his mis-
sion to create a 
show with subtle-
ties usually only 
reserved for white, 
presumably Chris-
tian characters. In 
doing so, he has 
forged a path for 
future creators of 
color who dream 
of 
a 
day 
when 
their 
identities 
can be present in 
their work with-
out overshadowing 
the actual story, or 
at the very least, 
express 
them-
selves 
in 
their 
work without the 
constant 
anxiety 
of appeasing everyone within a 
community. 
Produced by A24, “Ramy” 
is now kin to some of the most 
talked-about coming-of-age sto-
ries of recent years: “Lady Bird,” 
“mid90s,” “Eighth Grade,” the 

list goes on. Although this is 
exceptional company to be in, 
I had to wonder, in addition to 
centering on an Arab-American 
man, how else does “Ramy” dis-
tinguish itself as a narrative 
from the seemingly never-ending 
stream of projects falling under 
the category of Confused Mil-
lennial Finding Him/Her/Their 
selves™? Youssef’s answer was 
unexpected to say the least. And 
not just because genteel women 
never discuss it during dinner. 
Religion. 
Make no mistake — Youssef, 
dressed as though 
he could have just 
clocked out from 
a long day at VICE 
News, is not out to 
convert the masses 
or spread the word 
of how “cool” reli-
gion can be like 
a 
cargo 
short-
clad youth group 
leader. His aim in 
emphasizing reli-
gion in his passion 
project is merely 
to shed a light on 
the crossroads he 
has been met with 
throughout 
his 
life in attempting 
to own his faith 
while willingly participating in 
aspects of secularity.
While most comedies geared 
towards the coveted 18-34 demo-
graphic evade discussing religion 
in an earnest way and feature 
characters 
either 
ambivalent 
toward or outwardly disinterest-
ed in any element of faith, “Ramy” 
attempts to bridge this divide by 
crafting a nuanced depiction of 
a man who is not attempting to 
escape his religion and culture, 
but, on the contrary, to “be his 
best spiritual self.” A distinction 
that is on display from the onset 
of the series, in the first episode 
alone, fictional Ramy Hassan 
must have an awkward conver-
sation with his hookup regard-
ing her misconceptions about his 
faith. She assumed he was “cul-
turally Muslim” in the same way 
that she was “culturally Jewish.” 
She was incorrect. I couldn’t help 
but picture the scene as a meta 
exchange between Youssef him-
self and other popular coming-
of-age comedies of today. 
Comedy 
and 
religion 
are 
an odd couple of sorts — with 
their only successful merger to 
date being the archaic setup for 
jokes about a rabbi and a priest 
inexplicably sharing a drink at 

Applebee’s. Youssef is not blind 
to this reality, reasoning that, 
“church, the mosque, the temple 
… whatever are almost always the 
punchline.” As much as I like to 
perceive millennials and Gen-
eration Z as a hold-no-punches 
bunch, shying away from no topic 
too taboo, I had to wrangle with 
the possibility that maybe we did 
avoid religion like Christmas Eve 
mass. Just because I am a disil-
lusioned Catholic (read: only 
stuck around for the wine, then 
bounced), does that mean that I 
cannot appreciate a show about 
someone 
else’s 
relationship 
to 
their 
faith? 
My 
fear in beginning 
Youssef’s 
series 
with this in mind 
was that it would 
be 
akin 
to 
the 
Christian 
movies 
they showed at my 
Catholic 
middle 
school: 
preachy, 
poorly acted and 
(maybe?) with an 
arc related to high 
school football.
It would be an 
understatement 
to say that this 
is not “Ramy” in 
the slightest. No 
spoilers: There’s a condom full 
of water, a cringe-inducing car 
makeout and hookah. There are 
clearer traces of “Atlanta” inher-
ent in “Ramy” than the Catho-
lic school staple, “Facing the 
Giants.”
Rather than being a hindrance 
to 
my 
enjoyment, 
Youssef’s 
exploration 
of 
religion 
pro-
vided for a compelling internal 
struggle that was refreshing to 
see. In discussing the possibility 
of renewal by Hulu, Ramy and 
co-star Dave Merheje (“Mr. D”) 
both expressed high hopes for a 
second season. With commercial 
and critical praise continuing to 
pour in for the show, this appears 
to be a very plausible matter. And 
for Youssef, who was credited 
with penning about half of the 
first season’s episodes, he shows 
no signs of writer’s block: “The 
importance [of “Ramy”] lies in 
that we get to highlight that you 
can be very specific and do ten 
episodes in a season and there’s 
still so much that hasn’t been 
touched. And I think if there’s 
anything that is important about 
(this), it’s that. We get to high-
light how hyperspecificity is 
a wealth of story and probably 
profitable too.” 

Representation in comedy: 
A talk with Ramy Youssef

ALLY OWENS
Daily TV Editor

TV INTERVIEW

Currently, to 
be a person 
of color with 
a platform in 
the media, 
your visibility 
comes at the 
cost of your 
individualism.

Youssef’s 
exploration 
of religion 
provided for 
a compelling 
internal 
struggle 
that was 
refreshing to 
see.

AP

