This month, American-Palestinian comedian Mo Amer released the much-anticipated second installment of his eponymously-named series Mo. An audio-visual exploration of the Palestinian experience abroad, the show blends humor, personal anecdotes, and sharp social commentary to navigate the challenges of displacement, asylum seeking, and statelessness. Shedding light on the often-overlooked struggles of both refugees and immigrants, the mini-series, co-written by recent Golden Globes nominee Ramy Youssef, has been lauded for its introspective nature, and praised for its poignant story-telling, earning accolades even from the most typically scathing critics of television.
Scoring an almost perfect rating (97%) on film-review website Rotten Tomatoes, since Mo’s launch in 2022, Amer’s personal journey has been reframed into a universal experience shared, carried, and related with by so many; starting from the people of Palestine across occupied territories and the diaspora. Hailed for being the first Netflix-sponsored production to place the onus on a narrative that’s been repeatedly stifled, and almost criminalized, on-screen, the sense of representation that has emanated from the plot has been nothing short of historic. Providing a global platform to those too used to seeing their stories be marginalized, we can only assume that the title’s second season must’ve been long awaited by those first concerned (or not).
View this post on Instagram
As you know, finding value in something is a benchmark that has no definitive measure. And as much as the response from Palestinians seems to be positive at surface-level, we decided to see it out for ourselves by asking a few in our close circles, some followers, and community members— whose roots all stem from the holy land— what they think of the depiction provided by the series everybody seems to be talking about right now. (Keep in mind, these views aren’t representative of everyone.)
Sharon, 28
Mo’s family were expelled from Haifa to Burin, which is located in the West Bank, before resettling abroad. Elements like these immediately gave me space to reflect on the pain and suffering of our brothers and sisters in the diaspora, moving around from country to country, stateless around the world and estranged from home. For us, those who still live in Palestine, we don’t have the emotional weight to wonder about them as things are so hectic in real time.
The thing is, there’s this general tension in the representation of the Palestinian people. It’s a completely different lifestyle based on where you are. To me, to put it as nicely as possible, it felt as if a lot of the time, the diaspora hogs the Palestinian narrative within the popular media. Maybe that’s why it is popular. Our shepherds, our farmers, the camps, Gaza, Msafe, Yatta, Silwan, AlNaqab, Jenin, Yaffa, Haifa, Burin—here, the struggle continues. I’d say there’s an awkwardness in consuming Palestine in popular media, as a form of resistance, living in Palestine.
In the context of an American series on Netflix, it was refreshing and affirming to see an unrepresented POV. To witness the struggles of asylum seekers, it also allows for reflection upon his, and our own. It creates a sense of a universal struggle, a global pattern of oppression. We have enforced our representation and our presence, even in popular media. And although it can give us a sense of existence, we have to continue to bear in mind our balance between cultural validation and consumption, and our action’s offline.
Ali, 30
Seeing a Palestinian family on a mainstream platform did feel good. Just seeing a Palestinian story on a major site is kind of crazy to see. That’s definitely a good thing. However, I found a lot of clichés coming out, in terms of what they are, the way they act, and what they look like, the olive oil, and so on, which all feel a bit odd and weird to navigate. It’s a give and take situation, yes the clichés are there, but at the same time they’re showing us what has never been done before. And that is just something I just can’t take for granted.
I think there’s a minimization of the occupation, at least in the first season. You see arguments between Arabs and Israelis, playing games and joking about it as if it’s nothing. When what we’re talking about is the death and displacement of hundreds of thousands Palestinians over time. In the second season, I really appreciated the fact that they didn’t mention Oct. 7. I feel like it came from an effort to remind people that things didn’t start then. I had been thinking about how they’d bring it up for a while, but the fact they didn’t explicitly, mainly shown through the mother, is a powerful choice.
At the end of the day, I do appreciate this show exists. I know it’s a difficult topic, especially for Palestinians still living under occupation, I can imagine how it feels meaningless and badly represented. I can’t put myself in their shoes, and I’ll take their opinions over mine any day, but, I do think it’s good in a way to bring these stories to the masses, it’s mesmerizing.
Nawal, 26
When I watched the series, it really hit home— for several reasons. For the way we’re living our lives and others aren’t, especially having to continue with our day to day business with everything going on at the same time, trying to enjoy life while knowing what’s going on back home. I appreciated how realistic some scenarios were, when Mo goes back home and passes through Tel Aviv airport, and has an awful experience, as I have myself on the two occasions I went back to Palestine. I think it has caused me to build a psychological wall that doesn’t want me to go to Palestine anymore because of how traumatic the experience in Tel Aviv will be, and how humiliating it is.
I also appreciated how complex the notion of identity is— something I can relate with. You want to adhere to the society you live in— in my case German and his American— and everything else that connects you to your roots, Palestine, and Lebanon.
I also enjoyed how strong Mo’s mother was. So hardworking, faithful, but also having a heavy heart when it comes to her family at home. All in all, I think it’s one of the best Netflix series ever. I cried out of joy, and started missing something I hadn’t had in a long time, which is belonging and identity.
Sherine, 27
In the clutter of life, along with the struggles of Mo’s family in the United States, the mom felt like a recurring reminder and the barrier of all the news coming from Palestine. They had two scenes that were interesting, between the mother and daughter. The daughter was telling her mother to not be too consumed with the news from Palestine. The mother, almost begging for her empathy, replies: “he’s the age of Osama,” which is her son.
Another time, the mother says it’s getting dangerous in Palestine, where their family is living in real time. The daughter then reminded her that to be the best she can be to others, she’ll have to be good to herself too and not get too caught up. Or as Mo suggested in a different scene, to take a break from the news.
Those scenes hit, because sometimes I feel like people treat us like news, like content. That said, I still got what the daughter meant to do, because it is all quite paralyzing to say the least…
Also Read:
Meet Belal Muhammad, The UFC’s First Palestinian Champion
Prominent Palestinian Figures in Music, Television, and Fashion
