Reflecting on Ramy

“Name a film or TV show where you truly felt represented on screen…”.

Being a film fan, I’ve often been posed this question by my peers or come across it in the dark corners of #FilmTwitter. Hell, it’s even one of the questions that’s asked in Brett Goldstein’s now-legendary podcast, Films To Be Buried With. Each time it’s been asked of me, though, I’ve struggled to answer.

I was born in Bangladesh and emigrated to Britain when I was a few months old. I was raised and educated in Jersey, Channel Islands and, therefore, brought up in what is referred to as ‘western society.’ It often felt I was travelling between two worlds every day: one of them where I was surrounded by white people, hearing them talk of getting drunk and leading nefarious lifestyles; the other being a Muslim household where another language was being spoken and we were warned about the “haram” activities that we should avoid. I was constantly moving back and forth between two environments that were at odds with each other and the result was that I felt I didn’t truly belong anywhere.

Obviously, there have been a few occasions where forms of pop culture have depicted South Asian immigrants in the western world. During my teenage years, EAST IS EAST (1999) became popular where it showed a Pakistani family in Salford, Lancashire. This film tells of the conflict between the father of the family (played by the late great Om Puri) and his children as he forces them into arranged marriages. The father is portrayed as being abusive and dogmatic, constantly calling his sons “bloody barstarrrds” where the children had disdain and fear of their father’s culture (“I aint marrying no bloody paki!”). However, I wasn’t really raised up in an oppressive household and neither did I have hatred towards my own family culture. If anything, that film made me feel more alienated as it built on the stereotype of South Asians having a backward mentality and from thereon, I would hear white people do impressions of Puri’s character.

There have been times where I did feel loosely connected to South Asian characters. For instance, it was refreshing to see someone like Kumar from HAROLD AND KUMAR GET THE MUNCHIES (2004) (aka HAROLD AND KUMAR GO TO WHITE CASTLE) who was laid back about the expectations that his family put upon him—he didn’t feel insecure about the clash between the ideals of upbringing and the simple desire to get high with his friends.

However, it was only when I first saw Ramy recently that I felt there was someone with the same mindset as me. Ramy is a Hulu TV show co-created by and starring Egyptian-American comedian Ramy Youssef. As with the previous movies mentioned, it shares the same theme of the struggle of having to manage two sets of ideals in opposing cultures. But this differs because the lead character wants to embrace the spiritual side of his faith and uses that as a moral compass to escape his flaws.

I feel regretful using that description because those that haven’t seen the show would think it is a self-serious drama about a Muslim immigrant struggling to maintain his faith. But it’s hilarious. Absolutely hilarious. Also, it doesn’t just focus on Ramy. What makes the show so engaging is the ensemble surrounding him as each member of his family is perfectly cast, with some of the episodes that focus on the other family members are the best.

(Spoilers to follow)

Farouk (Played by Amr Waked)

A recurring motif throughout the first season is that we can hear the voiceover of a younger version of Farouk (the father of the family) from a tape recording he made for his son while he settled in America without his family many years ago. We hear him say, “…masr um el dunya… [‘Cairo is the mother of the world’] and it always will be. But America is what I need right now. You'll see, Baba. Insha Allah”. Ramy listens to this throughout the series as a way to remind himself of how his family originally immigrated.

In season 2, the episode centred on his character named ‘Frank in the Future’ shows that, even though he’s now settled his family in his new home, Farouk still hasn’t quite got it all figured out. He loses his job and keeps it a secret from his family. Rami begins to see the insecurities in his father when his brother-in-law belittles him forcing Farouk to finally tell his son the truth.

It resonates particularly now, after my own father’s recent passing. I’ve been reflecting on how we looked at my father as the ‘provider’ for us; he achieved the immigrant’s dream of settling in what may have seemed like an unknown land and creating a new home. But there must have been moments where he second-guessed himself and didn’t think he would be able to forge a path for us.

Deena (played by May Calamawy)

For me, Calamawy is the breakout performer of the cast. Deena is continuously frustrated by the double-standards applied to how her parents treat her compared to how they treat her brother, Ramy. This invites one of the funniest scenes in the show where Deena dreams of getting frisky with a boy in her bedroom but is interrupted by each member of the family entering the bedroom. The scene ends with her parents praising Ramy right in front of Deena while she is in bed with the boy, before she ultimately wakes up out of her nightmare.

In the episode “3riana Grande,” Deena gets into Law School but her success is cut short when she feels like she’s been given the ‘evil eye’ and finds that she’s losing her hair. Being raised Muslim, we’re often warned throughout our childhood about being cast with the ‘evil eye’: a concept where someone will look at you with envy and subconsciously put a curse on your success. Seeing that become embodied in an episode of television feels so unique in comparison with other dramedy and horror TV shows, yet still feels so familiar.

Maysa (Played by Hiam Abbass)

The reliably brilliant Abbass plays Ramy’s mother, and her episodes are a couple of my favourites. This character is so identifiable to many MENA SA mothers of a certain generation. On the episode “Ne Me Quitte Pas,” she becomes a Lyft driver and starts a flirtatious relationship with one of her French passengers. The facial acting Abbass displays in this episode from a subtle playfulness to the slow heartbreak is masterful.

In ‘They,, Maysa misgenders a trans person and finds a bad Lyft review may jeopardise her US citizenship application. Deena berates her at the end of the episode, “You feel like you can say anything and not know how much it hurts people!” - a familiar trait of so many relatives I have of that same generation.

This episode ends with Maysa being granted her citizenship but looking at a picture of Donald Trump and saying, “Fuck you.” It made me laugh out loud more than any comedy I had seen in the past few years.

Which brings us to the titular character: Ramy. As I said earlier, Ramy spends the show using his spirituality as his moral compass. But season 2 ends with him failing…in a big way. The plot of the season centres on his relationship with his imam, Sheikh Ali (played by Mahershala Ali), and his daughter Zainab (played by the excellent MaameYaa Boafo). The season climaxes with him having an affair with his own cousin the night before getting married to Zainab.

When the episode ended, I really didn’t know how I felt about this character assassination of Ramy. But after sitting with it, I realised that our time being alive is full of making errors and having to face repercussions for those failures. That’s what makes us human. It ended the show in a melancholic way, which makes me glad that its third season started last week.

I’m glad to continue this journey with Ramy, failing or not, and seeing where the path goes next.