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FROM THE MARGINS: SEEING THE FUNNY SIDE OF THINGS
By Patrick Azadian
Glendale news Press, CA
May 7 2007
Recently I've found it difficult to come up with light-hearted topics
on the Armenian-American community to write about. Maybe it's my
general mood, or just the heavy workload at the office that is not
allowing those types of juices to keep flowing.
Or perhaps it's all the negative stereotypes flying around about
the community that has made me a bit reserved. From being blamed
for bad driving to welfare fraud, from rudeness to air pollution via
extravagant barbecuing, the community does not seem to need my help
in attracting negativity.
I've felt confined.
This officially hit me at an event co-sponsored by the YWCA and the
city's Commission on the Status of Woman during the "Sexual Assault
Awareness Month" in April.
I attended Lory Tatoulian's comedic play, "Pomegranate Whiskey." The
one-woman show (accompanied by pianist and musical composer Ara
Dabandjian) included a "cocktail" of political satire, sassy humor
and cultural observations. She incarnated different female characters
as she took the audience around the world through a lyrical roller
coaster - singing in different styles and languages.
The characters ranged from a southerner determined to save the women
of Afghanistan by teaching them how to put on makeup (and cover up)
to a jaded Statue of Liberty still clinging onto her French roots.
I thought Tatoulian was brilliant; she made us all laugh.
That's until she got to the materialistic Armenian housewife character
who stayed home all day and cooked for her husband. Not surprisingly,
the segment contained many references to BMW's, diamonds and a big
house on the hill. As I sat there at a table of four Glendalians,
I realized we were less amused with this specific character than the
rest. Maybe because there was some merit to the stereotype; I know
there is no shortage of these characters in Glendale. Or perhaps I
was afraid of the re-enforcement of the stereotypes; I personally
don't know any such women.
With some minority comedians; if there are no ethnic or racial
generalizations, there is often no funny act. Watch George Lopez, and
to a much lesser degree Chris Rock (he doesn't have to resort to that
any more), and you'll know what I mean. But everyone hopefully knows
they are funnymen, and they don't mean everything they say. A comedy
is not unlike a caricature, it's an over-exaggeration of a grain of
truth, with the ultimate goal being making people laugh at any expense.
Hollywood is not very different. We watch movies and shows that involve
similar stereotypes, yet when we turn off the TV, hopefully we should
be able to separate real life from the show.
HBO's "The Sopranos" is a prime example. People realize this is just
a show and regardless of whether a real "Tony" exists in real life,
we don't stereotype every American with an Italian surname into that
negative mold.
It is also interesting that when it comes to using humor and
stereotypes with minorities, the entertainment industry is still
careful of who is actually delivering the message. If you are pointing
out the humorous side of being an African-American, then you better
be black.
And if you are making gangster movies about Italian-Americans you
better be from that community. Or, if you are producing satire about
Jewish mothers, you better be Jewish yourself.
We can call this courtesy or political correctness, or we can see it
as a function of not being able to take it easy sometimes. Someday,
we may reach that plateau when we can see the funny side of different
sub-cultures without meaning or causing any harm. I don't think we
are there yet.
At the end of Taloutlian's Armenian housewife segment, I turned to
my friend and said: "If you live in Glendale, you won't find this
character as funny as the rest." And that in itself was probably part
of the comedy: a table of four smug-faced Glendalians on one side,
while others across the room were laughing so hard they could not
contain their tears.
Later, I thought to myself: "I need to lighten up." If I want to make
fun of my own community, darn it, no one will stand in my way.
A friend suggested I get my sense of humor back; I am a work in
progress.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
By Patrick Azadian
Glendale news Press, CA
May 7 2007
Recently I've found it difficult to come up with light-hearted topics
on the Armenian-American community to write about. Maybe it's my
general mood, or just the heavy workload at the office that is not
allowing those types of juices to keep flowing.
Or perhaps it's all the negative stereotypes flying around about
the community that has made me a bit reserved. From being blamed
for bad driving to welfare fraud, from rudeness to air pollution via
extravagant barbecuing, the community does not seem to need my help
in attracting negativity.
I've felt confined.
This officially hit me at an event co-sponsored by the YWCA and the
city's Commission on the Status of Woman during the "Sexual Assault
Awareness Month" in April.
I attended Lory Tatoulian's comedic play, "Pomegranate Whiskey." The
one-woman show (accompanied by pianist and musical composer Ara
Dabandjian) included a "cocktail" of political satire, sassy humor
and cultural observations. She incarnated different female characters
as she took the audience around the world through a lyrical roller
coaster - singing in different styles and languages.
The characters ranged from a southerner determined to save the women
of Afghanistan by teaching them how to put on makeup (and cover up)
to a jaded Statue of Liberty still clinging onto her French roots.
I thought Tatoulian was brilliant; she made us all laugh.
That's until she got to the materialistic Armenian housewife character
who stayed home all day and cooked for her husband. Not surprisingly,
the segment contained many references to BMW's, diamonds and a big
house on the hill. As I sat there at a table of four Glendalians,
I realized we were less amused with this specific character than the
rest. Maybe because there was some merit to the stereotype; I know
there is no shortage of these characters in Glendale. Or perhaps I
was afraid of the re-enforcement of the stereotypes; I personally
don't know any such women.
With some minority comedians; if there are no ethnic or racial
generalizations, there is often no funny act. Watch George Lopez, and
to a much lesser degree Chris Rock (he doesn't have to resort to that
any more), and you'll know what I mean. But everyone hopefully knows
they are funnymen, and they don't mean everything they say. A comedy
is not unlike a caricature, it's an over-exaggeration of a grain of
truth, with the ultimate goal being making people laugh at any expense.
Hollywood is not very different. We watch movies and shows that involve
similar stereotypes, yet when we turn off the TV, hopefully we should
be able to separate real life from the show.
HBO's "The Sopranos" is a prime example. People realize this is just
a show and regardless of whether a real "Tony" exists in real life,
we don't stereotype every American with an Italian surname into that
negative mold.
It is also interesting that when it comes to using humor and
stereotypes with minorities, the entertainment industry is still
careful of who is actually delivering the message. If you are pointing
out the humorous side of being an African-American, then you better
be black.
And if you are making gangster movies about Italian-Americans you
better be from that community. Or, if you are producing satire about
Jewish mothers, you better be Jewish yourself.
We can call this courtesy or political correctness, or we can see it
as a function of not being able to take it easy sometimes. Someday,
we may reach that plateau when we can see the funny side of different
sub-cultures without meaning or causing any harm. I don't think we
are there yet.
At the end of Taloutlian's Armenian housewife segment, I turned to
my friend and said: "If you live in Glendale, you won't find this
character as funny as the rest." And that in itself was probably part
of the comedy: a table of four smug-faced Glendalians on one side,
while others across the room were laughing so hard they could not
contain their tears.
Later, I thought to myself: "I need to lighten up." If I want to make
fun of my own community, darn it, no one will stand in my way.
A friend suggested I get my sense of humor back; I am a work in
progress.
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress