Journalist Rashell Habib reviews ‘Here Come The Habibs!’

WHEN Rashell Habib heard a show called “Here Come The Habibs!” was airing on Australian TV she was not a happy woman.

DISCLAIMER: My name is Rashell Habib. I don’t support the Bulldogs, drive a Subaru nor own any Adidas pants. I was born in Darlinghurst, Sydney and do not call anyone cuz, unless we are blood related. I never forget leg day.

The minute I heard a show called Here Come The Habibs! was going to air on Channel 9, I sent a mass text to my family that just read: “Get ready — we should start looking at real estate in Rome.”

I have had a love-hate relationship with my surname and everything that comes with it since September 11, 2001. That was when my name went from meaning “love” in Arabic to enlisting fear, anger and judgment.

So when I saw a comedy show about a Lebanese family who win Lotto and move to an affluent suburb in Sydney, the Australian version of The Beverly Hillbillies, I wanted to cry. I wanted to hate it.

Then I watched it.

It’s funny. It’s harmless and it does a great job of showing exactly what happens in everyday life, without the political correctness that tends to strangle the life out of comedy these days. Trust me, if I am not insulted, I don’t see why others would be.

There was such outrage when the show was announced, with people calling out a show about “wog humour”.

The show exaggerates Lebanese culture, as it does Australian culture. No one is safe. The daughter Layla Habib (my aunty’s name, funnily enough) is a hyped-up version of a lot of Australian-Lebanese girls I know. So too is the snotty, ignorant Australian neighbour with lines such as, “Do you think they will knock it down and build a mosque?”

Two of the many Habibs.

What creators Rob Shehadie and Tahir Bilgic have done is exactly what comedy is supposed to do: they have taken stereotypes and exaggerations of people in the community and exposed their flaws and qualities, using them to expose wider societal issues.

They don’t address religion, keeping it open and untouched. There are Lebanese women in midriff tops and others in head scarfs.

I laughed out loud when the Australian neighbour introduced himself to the Lebanese father and nervously mentioned the Cronulla riots, only to further dig himself into a culturally murky hole.

To be honest, this happens a lot. The Cronulla riots, terrorism, Islam, cultural confusion and labelling. It’s a reality, especially with a surname like mine.

I was once told at a party I was one of “the good Lebs” and during a job interview I was asked if I was Christian or Muslim.

I am not easily insulted nor am I playing victim. But what the show does is shine a spotlight on all the culturally insensitive and cruel dialogue that is so prevalent and unnoticed in Australian culture.

Yes the show has its flaws, but for Channel Nine to take a chance on this locally produced show is something to be admired.

There are some in-jokes that Lebanese-Australians will understand that others won’t. It will also open up Australians to an insight into, albeit and exaggerated version, of Lebanese culture, the culture I know and love.

I come from a big, beautiful family. I am one of four girls, my dad is nicknamed “Habib”, my mum makes the best falafel in the world and my sisters and I are louder than a heavy metal band when we get together.

We are the Habibs.