REVIEW: Can humor be a form of resistance?

For decades, the Palestinian identity has been reduced to a grim narrative—one of displacement, destruction and dehumanization. In mainstream media, Palestine is often synonymous with tragedy, its people are depicted as either victims or villains, rarely as complex individuals with dreams, humor and resilience. 

Mo, a Netflix dramedy created by Mo Amer and Ramy Youssef, shatters this one-dimensional portrayal, offering an honest, deeply personal, and often hilarious depiction of Palestinian life in exile. 

At its core, Mo tells the story of Mo Najjar, a Palestinian refugee in Houston, struggling to navigate life in America while awaiting asylum. 

Mo Amer, Omar Elba and Cherien Dabis, who play siblings in Mo, pray at their father's makeshift grave

 

Inspired by Amer’s own life, the series blends sharp wit with poignant storytelling, illustrating the weight of generational trauma and the relentless search for belonging. 

In a landscape where Palestinian stories are either erased or distorted, Mo stands as an act of defiance, a refusal to let a people’s history be written by those who oppress them. 

Amer’s portrayal of Mo is both comical and heart-wrenching. He is the quintessential millennial, juggling economic struggles, family responsibilities and personal ambitions—except his battle is compounded by the cruel bureaucracy of a system that denies him the right to call any place home. 

Challenging Hollywood’s Narrative of Palestine 

A deeply moving moment in the series unfolds as Mo and his family say their final goodbyes to his father in Kuwait

 

Beyond Mo’s journey, the series excels at depicting the cultural and political tensions of being Palestinian in America. 

From microaggressions to outright hostility, Mo and his family constantly contend with a world that refuses to see them as fully human. His mother, Yusra, clings to news from Palestine, unable to look away from the suffering of her people. 

The show does not resort to heavy-handed moralizing but instead uses humor and authenticity to evoke empathy—something often denied to Palestinians in Western media. 

Amer has been vocal about Hollywood’s complicity in shaping anti-Palestinian narratives. In interviews, he has expressed frustration over the dehumanization of his people, noting how easily they are dismissed or vilified. 

“Palestinians are called animals. What the f**k is that?” he remarked, highlighting the violent rhetoric used to justify their oppression. 

Mo is his response—a counter-narrative that refuses to let Palestinians be erased or demonized. 

Honoring the Past While Acknowledging the Present 

Mo’s affectionate and occasionally humorous relationship with his mom was deeply relatable

 

Season 2, while not addressing Israel’s current war on Gaza, acknowledges that the Palestinian struggle is not new. “We wanted to honor the seeds we laid in Season 1,” Youssef explained. 

The show references past expulsions and massacres, ensuring that history is not rewritten to fit a convenient narrative. It recognizes that justice for Palestinians cannot be measured in reactionary responses to recent tragedies but in the acknowledgment of a long history of displacement and resistance. 

The show’s humor does not diminish its message; rather, it strengthens it. The finale of Mo is bittersweet—not only because it marks the end of an exceptional series, but because its very existence feels like a rarity in an industry that often silences Palestinian voices. 

The series compels audiences to see Palestinians as real people, not just political symbols

 

Mo is not about proving that Palestinians are worthy of sympathy—it asserts their right to exist, to laugh, to love, and to live without constantly justifying their humanity. 

By focusing on Mo’s daily life—his relationships, his struggles, his triumphs—the series challenges the audience to see Palestinians not as distant political symbols, but as real people.