“Now, I’m Jewish, I’m from New York,
and perhaps exotic to some of you.” [Music] Jewish Americans have created
some of the world’s most beloved movies and shows. So, it might be surprising that,
when it comes to onscreen representation, Jewish characters
are often reduced to stereotypes. Jewish women especially tend to
fall into a few well-trodden character tropes: The overbearing and
hypercritical mother -- “You know honey,
I think I liked you better with your hair straighter.” -- the gossiping yenta -- “I have such news for you!
And not every-day-in-the-week news. Once-in-a-lifetime news.” -- or the wealthy, well-educated
young woman obsessed with her money, looks, and finding a rich guy
to support the comfortable lifestyle she’s used to. In other words:
The Jewish American Princess. “What’s up, my hot, little
Jewish American Princess?” The phrase “Jewish American Princess,”
or JAP, as we’ll say in this video, is traditionally a derogatory term
applied to a certain kind of upper- or upper-middle class Jewish American
young woman -- but it’s one of the most complex
and controversial Jewish stereotypes which has sometimes been acknowledged
and claimed by female Jewish creators. [Rapping] “It’s a JAP battle!” [Singing] “Find the term offensive?” [Rapping] “Too bad, yo!” It usually involves a character from
a place with a large Jewish community, like New York City or its suburbs. [Rapping] “Now we’ll see whose bars
will prevail in this beef of two hard-as-nails shebrews from Scarsdale.” She’s typically highly educated --
an example of an achievement-oriented so called “model minority.” In the past, that achievement
likely centered on finding a successful husband -- “Joel Maisel was my knight
in shining armor, a gift from God.” -- while, increasingly today, the character may be a hyperachiever
in her own profession. Most of all, the JAP is privileged -- “And then for Chanukah,
my parents got me this pair of… really expensive white gold hoops.” -- and she’s often cast as spoiled
because she lives off daddy’s money, indulged by her parents
and looking for a suitable husband to provide for her in the manner
to which she’s accustomed. “Excuse me! You’re broke?” “Uh, yeah. Super broke.
Are you upset about that?” “Mmm, yeah, ‘cause I don’t f
with poorsies.” If we look deeper, though,
the materialism that’s projected onto this character
is more than a little sexist, and it reflects pressures on a
long-othered minority group to assimilate and rise in the
American social hierarchy. “My grandfather came from Russia,
and now we have a store on Fifth Avenue.” Recently, Jewish creators have
interrogated the complexities of the JAP identity in an effort
to reclaim the term. “Jewish American Princess,
a term that, on one hand does reinforce negative,
negative stereotypes about both Jews and women,
but on the other hand, is a term that we want to
reclaim and own.” But is that fully possible when
this stereotype has long used as a cautionary tale
one tries to avoid being -- “I’m not a JAP.” -- or a vehicle for someone else
around her to learn a lesson? Here’s our take on the role
this complicated character plays in film and TV, and how Jewish representation onscreen
can move beyond the stereotypes. [Music] If you’re new here, be sure to subscribe
and click the bell to be notified about all our new videos. [Music] The JAP stereotype first gained ground
in American popular culture after World War II as upwardly mobile
middle-class American Jews who felt established in the country
still struggled to prove that they had acclimated to everyday American life. The assimilation of American Jews
was conditional: They had long been othered
in American society. “What Don’s saying is,
Chanel is a very different kind of place. It’s French. It’s continental. It’s—” “Not just another Jewish
department store?” “Exactly.” Wealth, conspicuous consumption,
or high-status education were positive tokens that allowed them
to show off their “Americanness” and claim a place in the social hierarchy. “I’m American.
I’m really not very Jewish.” But as mainstream middle-class life
became increasingly connected to the image of the suburbs
and the purchase of home goods, some Jews felt that
American Jewish culture was becoming too materialistic. Jewish writers like Philip Roth
and Herman Wouk connected this materialism to women,
likely because housewives were the target demographic of commercial goods
in the 1950s and ‘60s. Wouk’s 1955 novel Marjorie Morningstar
And Roth’s 1959 anthology “Goodbye Columbus” are early examples
of a Jewish man confronting a Jewish American Princess. “Now what are you accusing me of?” “You are guilty of some things, Brenda.” In “Goodbye Columbus,” Brenda is of a
higher socioeconomic class than Neil, and the tension between
Neil’s working class lifestyle and Brenda’s family’s new money
sensibilities tears the young couple apart. “You want to know what my plans are
for the future. I’m not planning anything! Besides, I’m not a planner,
I’m a liver.” Throughout the 20th century,
the image of the JAP was perpetuated through comedy
by Jewish creators and entertainers. “I am Princess Vespa,
daughter of Roland, King of the Druids!” “That’s all we needed.
A Druish princess.” Jewish comedienne Gilda Radner
summed up the character in her 1980 “Saturday Night Live” parody
of a Jordache Jeans commercial, “Jewess Jeans.” [Singing] “She’s got designer nails
and a designer nose.” [Singing] “She’s the Jewess
in Jewess Jeans.” The JAP came to be portrayed
with certain visual cues: Frizzy hair, a large nose that she
may have surgically altered, and designer clothes and handbags. In keeping with her attempts
to assimilate, the JAP reflects a more secular version
of Jewish culture, and often JAP characters
are only implied to be Jewish -- “Cher Horowitz?” -- or their Jewish culture is
referred to only subtly. “That’s my bubbe!” Perhaps the most key elements
of portrayals of the Jewish American Princess
is her money, which often comes from
her father or her husband. “Come on, you can’t live off
your parents your whole life!” “I know that!
That’s why I was getting married!” The JAP is rich,
as well as often portrayed as knowing the value
of a good bargain -- [Singing] “I do my nails,
read up on sales all day.” -- thus reinforcing broader stereotypes
about Jews and money. “It’s a great deal for Nolita.
I mean, $2,100 a month? Amaze! It’s a little more expensive
than the dorms, but Aunt Eileen thinks it’s, like,
the perfect bachelorette pad.” Roth’s writing and later
characterizations alike were addressing concerns of
classism and consumer culture, but these critiques were complicated
by the fact that they had an air of misogyny. The JAP came across
as a tool to criticize not American materialism in general,
but Jewish women’s materialism specifically. [Singing] “Do for me, buy for me,
Lift me, carry me -- Finally got a guy to marry me!” The sexism and antisemitism
intertwined with portrayals of the JAP were accepted because many of these
(often damaging) onscreen characterizations were created
by Jewish entertainers (usually men). So, this let non-Jewish audiences
feel this was an inside joke it was okay to laugh at
(sort of like the caveat of: “It’s okay, I’m Jewish”
after an iffy comment.) [Screaming] “Money please!”
[Mumbles] “Money please.” Jamie Lauren Keiles writes about
The JAP for Vox, “At worse, she is […]
the ever-haunting spirit of the Jewish nouveau riche as it
tries to find its place in the American class system. At best, she performs
her own kind of drag, reclaiming the anti-Semitic
tropes of yore as a positive ideal
of Jewish womanhood.” Meanwhile, alongside the materialistic,
“new money” identity of the JAP, versions of the JAP also reflected
longstanding positive values of the Jewish community --
like an emphasis on education, achievement, and being a notable
community contributor. “Once it gets dark,
I hand out the candles, and we’ll do what’s called
a speechless protest. We put tape over our mouths
and gather hand in hand in a sea of outraged silence.” Rachel Bloom’s “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”
examines a modern iteration of the JAP who can be an extremely industrious,
driven, self-possessed, and professional overachiever. [Rapping] “I put the OG in 5.0 GPA.” Still, Bloom’s character Rebecca Bunch
has internalized and continues to exhibit some of the less modern
stereotypical aspects of the trope -- like her privilege, entitlement,
and the idea that settling down with a man should come first. “Today, I’m going to declare
my love to a prince and it’s going to be
oh so romantic!” While Rebecca is too successful
to need to rely on any man for money, she upends her life
in pursuit of love and, subconsciously,
seems to base her entire self-acceptance on the
need for male validation. “So, you’re saying that I moved here
from New York and left behind a job that would have paid me $545,000
a year for a guy who still skateboards?” The JAP is also inseparable from another
stereotype she’s destined to turn into: The Jewish Mother -- widely portrayed as both excessively
loving and hypercritical. [Singing] “By the way,
you’re looking healthy, and by healthy,
I mean chunky.” Keiles sees the JAP as a response
to the “nagging, overbearing” Jewish mother whose: “image was designed to absorb
the stigmas of the old world. Her inverse, the JAP,
was entitled and withholding, designed to take blame
for the stigmas of the new.” Significantly, male authors have painted
the JAP as sexually withholding, or using sex to manipulate men
into settling down with her so that they will support her wealthy lifestyle
and indulge her as her parents did. Given the inherent misogyny
of the stereotype, could the JAP ever offer
a nuanced discussion of the class and consumerism in
American Jewish culture, and America in general? [Music] Some JAPS break away from the
confines of money and superficiality, embarking on a redemption arc that’s
not exactly riches-to-rags but at least riches-to-middle-class-clothes. Characters like Baby in Dirty Dancing
and Rachel Green on “Friends” essentially demonstrate how
not to be a stereotypical JAP, winning over the audience
by proving their depth, self-sufficiency, and lack of
materialism or class snobbery. “Somebody who’s taught me
that there are people willing to stand up for other people
no matter what it costs them.” On “Friends,” Rachel’s Jewish identity
is rarely references directly -- [Singing] “Spin the dreidel, Rachel!” -- but she enters the scene with all
the quintessential JAP signifiers: She lives off her father’s
credit cards -- “And—and who pays for that?” “Um… my father.” -- she’s college educated,
but has never had a job -- “I’m gonna go get one of those
job things!” -- she belongs to a sorority
and was engaged to a man with a lucrative job; and she finds her pre-rhinoplasty look
a source of both humor and embarrassment. “What is with your nose?”
[Studio audience laughs] “They had to reduce it because of…
umm… my deviated septum.” But over time, Rachel evolves
into the anti-JAP. She works her way up from a waitress
to a successful businesswoman who can support herself and a child. “Look at you. You’re—You’re this
big executive! You’re much more capable than you
Give yourself credit for.” She finds both confidence
and independence in her romantic relationships
and is no longer defined by the men in her life. Rachel’s autonomy serves as
an inspiration in her family, while her sisters are the butt of jokes
because they’ve failed to rise above the stereotype. “Then he told me to come here and learn
the value of money from the one daughter he’s actually proud of.” Likewise, in 1987’s Dirty Dancing,
the Jewish protagonist, Baby, marks herself as the non-JAP
of her story by being an idealist who sees beyond class divides. “I’m sorry about the way
my father treated you.” She’s contrasted with the other
snobby summer vacationers of her demographic and (again)
a sister who fits the JAP stereotype to a T. “Ma, I should have brought
those coral shoes!” In both stories, these sisters
serve the function of illustrating that Baby and Rachel are superior -- because they aspire to be
independent women, don’t see it as their highest calling
to marry a rich doctor (or orthodontist), and don’t look down on people
with less money. In examples like these, the JAP
character’s role is to show audiences or protagonists
how to be better than her. “Our Baby’s gonna change the world.” “And what are you gonna do, missy?” “Oh, Lisa’s going to decorate it!” Overall, filmmakers tend to use this
archetype to teach someone a lesson (whether that’s another character
or the audience) -- usually about class, privilege,
or snobbery. Baby becomes the teacher
of openminded-ness to the classist, upper middle-class Jews in her society. “You told me everyone was alike
and deserved a fair break, but you meant everyone
who was like you.” Meanwhile, in the 1990s comedy series
“The Nanny,” Jewish protagonist Fran Fine teaches high-society WASPs
how to humanize Jewish Americans. “As a matter of fact, you’re not
like anyone else I’ve ever met. Which isn’t altogether a bad thing.” Fran ticks many boxes of the
stereotypical JAP: She’s loud-mouthed,
dressed to the nines, and eager to marry well
to appease her overbearing mother. But Fran isn’t as wealthy
as the traditional JAP, and when she’s compared to
the Sheffield family, she’s almost déclassé. “And at least I’m not
that broad over there. Would you look at her…
Desperate look in her eyes, boozing it up.
[Studio audience laughs] Fran’s Jewishness marks her
as someone who can never fit in with her stoic sense of propriety. “Oh boy, do you have gorgeous
tchotchkes.” “I beg… beg your pardon?” “Oh, you know, your bric-a-brac,
dust collectors.” “Ah, the Rodin, yes.” But her journey with
the Sheffield family is less about her appreciating herself
or coming into her own, and more about teaching Maxwell
and his children how to live a life that’s a little less uptight
and a little more free-wheeling. “You dolled her up
and turned her into a—” “A young woman! She is going to grow up,
and somebody’s gotta help her!” In countless stories,
the most fundamental “lesson” that the JAP character has to learn
is to be less self-centered and pay more attention
to the needs of others -- a process which typically involves
outgrowing her more typically JAP characteristics. “I decided I needed
a complete makeover. Except this time,
I’d make over my soul.” This might also involve facing
the fact that she’s privileged, not only because of her money,
but also because she’s almost always white. The JAP is traditionally
an Ashkenazi Jew (meaning of Eastern European heritage), and is powerful both because
of her white privilege and in spite of her Jewishness. “But I do know what it feels like
to be out of place… to be disconnected, to see the whole world
laid out in front of you the way other people live it.” Often, stories about this character
explore the class complexity of what it means to be both
an othered minority and an affluent elite in our society. While it may be easy for the JAP
to point to her minority status as proof that she relates to marginalized
people in general -- [Rapping] “I belong to the ACLU.” [Rapping] “Spare me!
I’m a card-carrying member. Plus, I spent a semester in Kenya,
remember?” -- frequently, the JAP’s story
is about her becoming more cognizant of her advantaged position. “All of my girlfriends and I
used to throw the diamonds we got from our parents
on a table and just do, like, a big jewelry swap!” Numerous depictions of this character
(old and new) force her to confront her privileged bubble. “Lucy, you know
I don’t speak Mexican.” “I am not a Mexican!” “Great, what was that all about?” “Lucy’s from El Salvador.” Or if she doesn’t reform,
the story might highlight that the character is well-aware
of how much power she yields through her race, class,
and financial security. “I don’t think my father,
the inventor of Toaster Strudel, would be too pleased
to hear about this.” [Music] While some previous representations
did involve Jewish women in key creative roles such as
screenwriter or co-creator, perhaps the two most in-depth,
nuanced explorations of this trope today are the creations of Jewish
female showrunners. Rachel Bloom’s awkward-but-confident
Rebecca Bunch in “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend” -- [Singing] “She’s the coolest girl
in the world, wait, wrong Rebecca!” -- and Amy Sherman-Palladino’s plucky,
sometimes too confident Midge Maisel, played by Rachel Brosnahan,
in “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.” “I just want you to know how much
I admire you guys… I could never be brave enough…
to wear the same outfit everyday.” Rebecca lives in a modern day
musical comedy, while Midge is a 1950s housewife
and mother, but both grapple with to what extent
their “JAP” identity is something they can escape,
or whether they should want to. At the beginning of their stories,
both feel the need to break out of their more stereotypically
JAP existences. Rebecca throws away her successful
lawyer lifestyle in New York to move to West Covina, California -- [Singing] “One day I was crying a lot
and so I decided to move to West Covina, California!” -- where there’s not much
of a Jewish community, so, the people she befriends
don’t understand her Jewish identity. [Singing] “That means disgrace.
I’m translating for the goys.” Likewise, Midge risks the stable comforts
of her life as a New York City mother to bravely build a career
as a stand-up comic. “I used to live in the large house
on the hill. And now, I live nowhere. As of an hour ago,
my address changed to ‘huh?’” [Audience laughs] Like in some previous JAP stories,
Rebecca and Midge are pushed by their narratives to become
a little more aware of their privileged station in life,
and to connect with others in a less self-centered way. “I want you to have a big apartment,
with hot water, and a closet full of blazers.
I want you to have a bank account.” But both women use creative outlets
(whether songwriting or stand-up comedy) to process just how complex
their experiences as Jewish women really are. [Singing] “Strip away my conscience,
Tear away my Jew guilt.” They (and the shows about them)
mine their culture for material -- like when “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend”
gives us the famed JAP rap battle between Rebecca and her hometown
rival Audra. [Rapping] “Think your verse is tight?
Then you’re trippin’ like Birthright.” Rebecca grows enough to examine
her behavior through the lenses of not only herself
and her own personal history, but also of her culture
and her womanhood. And when Rebecca and Audra reconnect
later to reprise their dynamic in a “JAP praise fight”
where they out-compliment each other -- [Singing] “This is a JAP
cheer scrimmage!” -- this culminates with the pair
questioning the limitations of the JAP stereotype. [Rapping] “This is touchy stuff
and it’s pretty complicated, but I noticed the dynamic,
and I thought that I should name it.” Still, whereas Baby and Rachel Green
were supposed to largely overcome their backgrounds,
both rap battles underline that the JAP is really a complicated set
of cultural cues reflecting a particular socioeconomic class and subculture. [Rapping] “‘Cause we’re liberals.” [Rapping] “Duh! Progressive as hell.
Though, of course, I support Israel.” In “Crazy Ex-Girlfriend’s” or
“The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel’s” modern understanding of
the JAP archetype, this is not a simple cartoon
that someone ought to just ‘transcend’ or ‘learn a lesson from.’ Rebecca is a self-aware person
who evolves, yet all these elements
of her cultural upbringing (rightly) remain a big part of who she is. And even as Midge’s blue comedy act
diverges from our stereotypical image of the JAP -- “All the (BLEEP) they say
about Jewish girls in the bedroom. Not true.” -- in other ways, she’s still very happy
to bathe in the comfort of her privilege and embrace the signifiers of this type
both in her life and in her comedy. “Go home and clean the kitchen.” “Oh sir, I’m Jewish.
I pay people to do that.” In searching for nuanced portrayals
of Jewishness, womanhood, and Jewish womanhood onscreen,
we should ask ourselves how to move beyond outdated stereotypes. [Inaudible baby voice] “Ben, give her some money.
It’s easier.” Even “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel”
has attracted negative attention for relying on multiple
Jewish stereotypes, some of which make the show
more relatable, but can also border on uncomfortable. “It’s the show that make
audiences sit up and say, ‘Wait, is this anti-Semitic?’” As portrayals continue to evolve,
it’s worth asking, must we always look to identify
Jewish women onscreen by how they conform to the stereotypes
we’re familiar with? “There’s just so much to take in!
the history, the tradition, the philosophy, oy! You guys, that was my first ‘oy’!” Or can we imagine ways of both living
and portraying Jewishness that don’t rely so much on
what we think the audience expects? We should also continue to look to
non-white Jewish American comedians, actors, and writers who can share
their own unique perspectives on their cultural identity. “What is this for you?” “I think I found my people.” And we should consider what it means
that some of our most iconic onscreen Jewish characters are not actually
played by Jewish women. “And, yes, there is shrimp
In the egg rolls!” Most importantly,
we should ask ourselves: When we’re quick to laugh
at a JAP on our TV screen, are we laughing with her,
or at her? “I’m sorry that people
are so jealous of me, but I can’t help it
that I’m popular.” This is The Take. What do you want our take on next? [Music]
