The Struggle of Identity and Belonging in Mo
The Netflix dramedy Mo delves into the complex lives of a Palestinian refugee family living in Houston, Texas, and the ways in which national labels and identity shape their everyday struggles. At the center of the story is Mohammed "Mo" Najjar, played by Mohammed Amer, a man caught in a perilous legal limbo as an undocumented immigrant. Mo’s lack of U.S. citizenship or permanent residency makes his existence precarious, as he navigates the challenges of finding stable employment and securing a sense of security. His situation is further complicated by the fact that his homeland, Palestine, is not widely recognized as a legitimate state by the U.S. government or many of the people he encounters. This sense of placelessness is a recurring theme in the series, as Mo grapples with the tension between his Palestinian roots and his American reality.
In one pivotal scene from the second season, Mo finds himself in Mexico after inadvertently crossing the border, unable to legally return to Texas. He gains an audience with an American ambassador who offers to help him, but the encounter takes a turn when the diplomat toasts to "your safe return and a peaceful end to the conflict," referencing the ongoing tensions in Palestine. Mo, unable to contain his frustration, challenges the diplomat’s vague characterization of the conflict, arguing that it erases the specificity of Palestinian experiences. This moment of indignation ultimately costs him the ambassador’s help, leaving Mo once again facing an uncertain future. After two decades in legal limbo, Mo is forced to confront the reality of his statelessness, a status that leaves him without a clear belonging in any nation.
The Power of Heritage and Resilience
Despite his legal and emotional struggles, Mo remains deeply rooted in his Palestinian identity, even as he navigates multiple cultural worlds. The series highlights the ways in which Mo’s character embodies both the pride and the pain of his heritage. In a recent conversation, co-creator and star Mohammed Amer described Mo as "willing to ruin his own life to make sure that he’s staying true to himself," a sentiment that underscores the character’s unwavering commitment to his identity. This loyalty often leads Mo into trouble, as his brash and prideful nature clashes with the demands of his precarious legal status. Yet, it is precisely this steadfastness that makes Mo such a compelling and relatable figure.
The series also explores the broader significance of Palestinian identity through the story of Mo’s family, particularly his mother, Yusra, played by Farah Bsieso. Yusra’s journey mirrors that of many Palestinians, as she was displaced from her homeland after the creation of Israel in 1948 and has spent much of her life in exile. In Season 1, Yusra starts a small olive-oil business called "1947," named after the year before the Nakba, or "catastrophe," when Palestinians were forcibly displaced from their homes. The olive oil becomes a symbol of her connection to her homeland and her determination to create something meaningful from the pain of her separation. In Season 2, the family finally visits their ancestral olive groves in Burin, where they experience a rare moment of joy and communion with their relatives. These scenes are deeply affecting, offering a rare glimpse of Palestinian life beyond the conflict that dominates media narratives.
Navigating the Politics of Representation
Mo is groundbreaking in its portrayal of a Palestinian American family, making it the first American series to focus on Palestinian protagonists. However, the show’s second season was created against a backdrop of heightened political tension. The writers began developing the season in April 2023, just before the Hollywood strikes, and reconvened in October 2023, days before Hamas’s attack on Israel and the subsequent escalation of violence in Gaza. The rising death toll in Palestine placed the show’s writers in a difficult position, as some viewers expected the series to address the violence directly, while others might have recoiled at the show’s use of terms like "settler" or "occupation."
Rather than directly engaging with the news, the season continues a storyline introduced in Season 1, focusing on Yusra’s olive-oil business and the family’s connection to their homeland. The show’s portrayal of Palestinian life is both personal and political, blending humor with poignant moments of loss and resilience. In one particularly moving scene, the Najjars visit their ancestral olive groves, where they sing, eat, and find solace in each other’s company. These moments are a rare respite from the ever-present threat of violence and displacement that hangs over their lives. The show’s ability to balance light-hearted humor with the gravity of its characters’ circumstances is part of what makes it so compelling.
The Weight of Statelessness and Family Bonds
Throughout the series, Mo reflects on the existential stakes of statelessness and the ways in which it shapes the lives of the Najjar family. For Mo, the lack of legal status is not just a practical problem but also a deeply emotional one, as it leaves him feeling rootless and unmoored. His struggles are mirrored in the experiences of his mother, Yusra, who carries the pain of her displacement with her at all times. Her longing for home is palpable, particularly in her conversations about the olive oil she bottles in Texas. Yet, even as she grieves the loss of her homeland, Yusra finds strength in her ability to create something meaningful from her suffering.
The show also explores the ways in which the Najjars’ statelessness affects their relationships with one another. In one scene, Yusra and her daughter, Nadia, disagree over Yusra’s constant attention to news from Palestine. Nadia, played by Palestinian American actress Cherien Dabis, urges her mother to focus on their life in Texas, while Yusra feels compelled to stay connected to the homeland she lost. This dynamic is deeply personal for Dabis, who was forced to evacuate Palestine during the filming of a historical drama about a family displaced from Jaffa in 1948. For Dabis, Mo became a way to process her own experiences of loss and fear, as well as a space for collective healing. The show’s ability to capture these complexities makes it a powerful and intimate portrayal of Palestinian American life.
The Beauty of Imperfect Characters
One of the most refreshing aspects of Mo is its refusal to idealize its characters. Mo, in particular, is a flawed and often infuriating protagonist. While his brashness and pride sometimes stem from his commitment to his Palestinian identity, they also lead him into unnecessary trouble. The series does not shy away from showing the ways in which Mo’s impatience and inconsiderateness contribute to his struggles. At times, he seems to be crumbling under the pressures of his life, and his actions are driven more by stubbornness than principle.
And yet, it is precisely this imperfection that makes Mo such a compelling and relatable figure. The show’s willingness to explore the complexities of its characters is a testament to its honesty and depth. Mo’s loved ones take him seriously, not because he is a hero or a symbol of resilience, but because they see the humanity in his struggles. This approach allows the series to tell a story that is both deeply personal and universally resonant. In the end, Mo is not just a show about statelessness or Palestinian identity; it is a story about the messy, imperfect lives of people trying to find their place in the world, one day at a time.
The Legacy of Mo
Mo is more than just a television series; it is a cultural milestone. As the first American show to focus on a Palestinian American family, it breaks new ground in representation and storytelling. The series offers a nuanced and humanized portrayal of Palestinian life, one that moves beyond the usual narratives of conflict and devastation. By blending humor, heartache, and hope, Mo creates a space for Palestinian voices to be heard and for Palestinian stories to be seen.
The show’s impact is evident in the connections it has forged with its audience. For Palestinian Americans like Cherien Dabis, Mo has been a source of comfort and solidarity, providing a way to process the pain of displacement and the uncertainty of the present. For non-Palestinian viewers, the series offers a window into a world that is often misunderstood or erased. In a time of rising awareness about Palestinian struggles, Mo reminds us of the power of storytelling to bridge divides and to humanize those who have been marginalized or silenced.
Ultimately, Mo is a testament to the resilience of the Palestinian spirit and the enduring power of family, love, and humor in the face of adversity. As the Najjars navigate their stateless existence, they remind us that home is not just a place, but a sense of belonging that can be carried in the heart, no matter where life takes you.
