Beyond the Punchline: Rethinking Jewish Representation

Like many other Jewish folks, I get excited when I see Jewish characters represented in books, movies, or shows. After all, I love Seinfeld and Fiddler on the Roof references as much as the next Ashkenazi, but I could use some fresh material.

Unfortunately, my excitement usually fizzles and turns to dread. When You Are So Not Invited to My Bat Mitzvah, a 2023 Netflix movie featuring Adam Sandler, premiered, I anticipated a feel-good, Sandler-esque comedy that showcased my culture. Now I’m no movie critic, but when the lead character, Stacy, began crying into her matzah ball soup after a blowout with her friend, I viscerally cringed. I thought, Is this what Jewish representation has become? Are we just replicating and reproducing stereotypes of ourselves?

Popular Culture Representation of Jewish Life

Studies have made it clear that how we see ourselves represented has an indelible impact both on how we perceive ourselves and on how others perceive us. Seeing someone on the page or the screen who looks, sounds, or lives like you is incredibly beneficial, especially if you’re part of a cultural minority.

As the credits rolled for You Are So Not Invited (yes, I made it through), I reflected on the other representations of Jewish life I’d seen and just how many of them were caricatures. New Girl’s Schmidt and his blander facsimile, Ben Gross of Netflix’s Never Have I Ever, present a fairly homogenous Jewish male with a proclivity for overachievement, neuroses, and Indian women. Lea Michele in Glee and Liza Weil in Gilmore Girls offer a view of Jewish females with a similar flavor: uptight, intense overachievers. Meanwhile, Seth Rogen’s An American Pickle literally preserves a Jewish character in brine. Yet these characters all have one thing in common: the actors who play them are actually Jewish.

The more dramatic, nuanced Jewish stories I’ve seen have been portrayed by Gentiles: Rachel Brosnahan in The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, Thomasin McKenzie in Jojo Rabbit, Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein in Maestro, Helen Mirren as Golda Meir in Golda, and more.

Why do so many Jewish characters play out as stale stereotypes?

Why do so many Jewish characters play out as stale stereotypes? Why do the more complex Jewish roles get cast with those who aren’t even Jewish?

Stereotypical Representations of Jewish People Throughout Time

To get answers for the present, I first needed to look to the past. Tracing the tropes and messy stereotypes back, I found myself beginning in the medieval era. Antisemitism was so pervasive in the Middle Ages that it became embedded in artwork.

Works from the tenth and eleventh centuries position Jews as Christ-killers, fallen from grace and beauty.^[1] Around the twelfth century, Jewish people began to be depicted with identifiable hats and then with a distinctively large and hooked nose to mark them ugly and grotesque.^[2] Martin Luther’s anti-Jewish writings set the stage for Enlightenment artists and writers to depict Jews as second-class citizens and vermin.

It was from this representational history that the Nazis were later inspired. They began to portray Jews as rats^[3] who carried diseases that would contaminate German society. William Shakespeare was also heavily influenced by medieval ideologies, and the antisemitic representation of Shylock, the Jewish moneylender in The Merchant of Venice, reflects that (it was a favorite read in Nazi Germany).^[4]

In the nineteenth century, as many Eastern European Jews immigrated to the United States, a new phenomenon emerged: “Jewface.” This portrayal of Jewish characters exaggerated physical features (even using makeup, prosthetics, or props to do so) and often involved thick New York accents or Yiddish inflections. Many of us can point to specific examples (even more recent ones) that we’ve read or seen of sly, money-obsessed men with big noses (like Meyer Wolfsheim in The Great Gatsby) or of rich Jewish “princesses” with distinct New York sensibilities (like Rachel Green in Friends). 

Antisemitic depictions have not only represented a commentary on existing prejudices but have become a tool for perpetuating them.

Throughout history, antisemitic depictions have not only represented a commentary on existing prejudices but have become a tool for perpetuating them. Ultimately, Jewish people fought back with one of our greatest weapons: humor.

The Defense Mechanism of Self-Deprecation

Self-deprecation has long been a standard defense mechanism for us. Jerry Seinfeld was once quoted as saying, “The cornerstone of Jewish survival has always been to find humor in life and in ourselves.” In the 1940s, the term “self-hatred” was popularized in the United States by psychologist Kurt Lewin. He described a phenomenon in which Jews who were marginalized and seen as outsiders by the societies in which they settled began to resent and distance themselves from “all things Jewish.”^[5]

It makes sense, then, that as we again adapted for survival, we began to think, If we represent ourselves with the tropes others use against us, they’ll see they can’t hurt us. So we leaned into it to have a voice in the narrative. The New Yorker’s Jody Rosen explains, “Jewface is a form of comedy, and nearly all its practitioners are Jewish comedians, who embody familiar stereotypes and wring laughs from ancient libels.”^[6]

I’m just not sure we’re still laughing. In a season 11 episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm, Larry David and his buddies debate the Jewishness of a Jewish person who believes in Jesus, saying, “That face, that punim ... he’s screaming Jew.” Here I was, watching a Jew size up another Jew by physical criteria. But just as with You Are So Not Invited, it wasn’t landing for me.

Is leaning into cheap stereotypes for the sake of comedy still serving us?

Once a viable coping mechanism, is leaning into cheap stereotypes for the sake of comedy (à la Seth Rogen, Adam Sandler, or Larry David) still serving us? Is it possible that we’re embracing a degrading representation so ardently that it’s even causing damage?

Our Responsibility to Represent

Speaking out against a tired trope, Jon Stewart once quipped on The Daily Show, “If Jews control the media, why don’t we give ourselves better press?”^[7] Antisemitic conspiracies aside, we do need to reevaluate our Western storytelling. It is incumbent upon those in positions of power and influence to ask themselves, “How can we tell the Jewish story better?” I think that includes being mindful not only of the stories but of those who tell them (because though I’m glad the stories of Golda Meir and Leonard Berstein are being told, I’d rather a non-Jew not play the part).

It’s time to shift strategies. Let’s retire the worn-out stereotypes and step into afresh, expansive idea of what it means to be Jewish. Whether they’re comedy or drama, lightweight or heavily moving, our stories and the characters who inhabit them can be dimensional, intricate, and nuanced.

After all, inspiration is all around us; we live all around the world, we occupy varying socioeconomic classes, we speak a myriad of languages, and we adhere to a range of beliefs. We are Black Jews, Asian Jews, Mizrahi Jews, Sephardic Jews, Orthodox Jews, Messianic Jews, Buddhist Jews, and Jews still figuring it out. When we represent the diversity of Jewish life that exists around and within us, we upend the tropes and represent something new.

Of course, we’re not all screenwriters, directors, or novelists. But we can still be storytellers in our lives, and we can curate the stories we consume. While antisemitism is rampant online, social media has also empowered more Jewish creators from around the globe to share perspectives to which we might never otherwise be exposed. If you’re embracing the Luddite lifestyle (and I don’t blame you), try picking up a memoir by a Jewish author who has a different lived experience than you, like Beautiful Country, One Hundred Saturdays, or Color of Love. In our own circles, reflect your slice of Jewish life to the people around you. Yours is a story worth telling.