In a recent episode of MasterChef, one contestant, Theo, was prompted to roleplay as his ‘ethnic dad‘ in a stereotypically exaggerated way. Is it okay for Greeks to joke around using labels like ‘wog’ ? It can seem lighthearted but risks reinforcing reductive and problematic tropes.
Have Greek Australians been so consistently typecast into predictable stereotypes that it stifles genuine cultural diversity and representation? I was left to wonder: why was he singled out? Or am I lacking humour? Why wasn’t the same roleplay expected of other contestants with Anglo or non-European backgrounds?
Like a precisely aimed boomerang, the slipper lands on its mark—cue the booming accent, the mispronounced English, the outdated clothes, the stray whisker. The ‘ethnic mum’ flashes across our screens/ social media as an object of laughter.
We laugh because we recognise her, but should we? Stereotypes in comedy, especially when they mock specific ethnic or cultural groups, walk a fine line between relatable humour and reinforcing stereotypes.
This is not a new debate. Australia’s comedic history is littered with examples, from the Anglo version of ‘Con the Fruiterer‘, which froze Greek Australians into caricatures, to the once original and sharp, ‘Wogs out of Work’, that later also fell into stereotypes in variations of Wog Boy films by Nick Giannopoulos, to more recent portrayals of Mediterranean parents on cooking shows.
Stereotypes are pervasive and persistent. They emerge from both cultural generalisations and archetypes, and if not well handled, they can become preconditions for bias and discrimination.
As archetypes they may say something important, critical, reflective, dark or joyous, and are important. Comedy can be a great mirror to ourselves and our community. However, when complex archetypes fall into stereotypes, dressed up as jokes, especially in mainstream media, they may be normalising prejudice in the form of almost a bygone racist minstrel act.
Research shows that disparagement humour as jokes in a comedy context that target a specific group can backfire. Instead of defusing bias, it can entrench negative perceptions and perpetuate harmful societal narratives.
Comedy, particularly when it fails to provide clear satirical framing, can introduce or reinforce stereotypes, especially among audiences unfamiliar with the context. Yet the question remains: is there ever a place for this kind of humour? Can comedy be both responsible and provocative?
There may be a middle ground. When comedians use archetypes and stereotypes self-reflexively, to critique power structures, inequalities or expose absurdities, the humour can challenge norms rather than uphold them. But when the joke is simply stereotypical caricatures, it flattens cultural identity into a punchline.
We must ask, who is telling the joke? Who is the target? And who is laughing along? Comedy can and should entertain, it can poke at archetypes and even stereotypes and do so effectively. It can also challenge tropes and behaviours in an ethnic group, such as sexism, internal racism, and more. Look at the work of the acerbic, intelligent and often critically challenging, often dark comedic work of Black American comedian Dave Chappelle, or the Jewish American no holds barred, Jessica Kirson‘s portrayal of New Jersey Jewish women.
Nothing should be sacred, comedy is about laughing at ourselves, but not minstrelling – not blackface or ‘white’ interpretations of who we are.
Comedy should go to the edge, be challenging, even insulting, but be conscious of its potentially harmful influence when not done with smarts.
We do not have to stop laughing at exaggerated cultural portrayals, but we need to have authenticity and depth – not rely on tedious and tired caricature. This isn’t about censoring or cancelling comedy—it’s about elevating humour beyond reductive and easy.
*Dr Foula. Z. Kopanidis FHEA – is an Associate Professor of Marketing at RMIT University.
