Actor and comedian Ahmed Ahmed on what it’s like being an Egyptian-American in Hollywood, dealing with criticism, and why we won’t see a return of the Axis of Evil Comedy Tour. By Surekha Ragavan and Syarifah Syazana

Ahmed Ahmed isn’t like a lot of famous people. For a start, he flew to Kuala Lumpur alone without an entourage – he didn’t even have a publicist with him. For someone who found fame with his brand of Middle Eastern stand-up comedy, Ahmed seemed surprisingly down to earth when we met up with him ahead of his show here last September. Jet lagged, he’d just come out from a press conference when he sat down with us, but his breeziness remained, and we felt an immediate sense of relief.

From then on, it was just us, his Blackberry and 59 minutes with Ahmed Ahmed.

Is your full name actually Ahmed Ahmed?
Well my actual name is Ahmed Aboubakr Ahmed Mohammed Ali Abdul Wahad Kuwidia. I don’t know if it’s a Muslim thing but in Egypt they trace every name back to the forefathers so we’re able to trace it back to Kuwidia. But when we immigrated to the US, you can’t put all those names on the immigration papers. So the people were like, ‘You gotta pick just two names’. So my mom called me Ahmed Ahmed and I never asked her until maybe like, ten years ago. Everyone thought it was a stage name. They go: ‘Oh cool name! How did you come up with that?’ and I’m like: ‘It’s my birth name’ and they’re like: ‘Sure it is...’
  So I talked to my mom one day and asked why did you name me Ahmed Ahmed? And my mom says, ‘You know, I just love the way Ahmed sounds.’ And Ahmed was the name the Prophet used to go by. It means ‘one who thanks God’.

If you had the mental capacity to, would you have named yourself differently when you were born?
That’s a good question. Probably. I hated my name growing up. I hated being Egyptian, I hated being Muslim, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve embraced it more. As a child you’re so influenced by society and what peer pressure tells you to do and what’s cool and not cool, so yeah I probably would have changed my name to like, Rick.

You were born in Egypt but moved to California when you were just a month old. Was it hard growing up in the US?
No. In the ‘80s there was the Iran-Contra situation so we used to get death threats. People would call our house and say, ‘Go back to your country!’ and I’m like, ‘We’re Egyptian.’ If you’re gonna be a racist, be a smart racist; I mean really, look at a map. So that happened, and then it kind of died down and I ended up going to high school in Riverside, California, and I was the only Arab kid in my high school. I sort of had my hand in each social group, so I was accepted quite a bit in high school. It wasn’t until I got to Hollywood where I felt true racism. You know, the stereotyping and the terrorist and cab driver parts. I went to an audition one time and the cast director said: ‘Do you speak English?’ You know, stuff like that. But as far as having a tough childhood, I had a pretty normal childhood. Our family was lower middle class and we lived in a pretty state suburb.

Growing up, were your parents very religious?
Yeah. Pretty much. They say in the Quran to beat your kids until they learn Islam. It’s a figure of speech when they say ‘beat it into your kids’, and my dad he used to beat it into us [laughs]. But then as we got older and we became more Westernised, they backed off a little bit, but they’re still practicing. My mother’s very God-fearing. In fact, for her religion comes before culture. She would rather I marry a Muslim girl who wasn’t Egyptian or Arab than a non-Muslim Arab girl.

Do you see yourself marrying a Muslim?
I don’t know. I don’t think for me it’s a necessity. As long as she’s God-fearing, somebody who doesn’t lie, cheat or steal; somebody who loves her family, and somebody who has a sense of humour – or else that’s just a no-no for me.

God fearing and a sense of humour too?
Let me rephrase that. I don’t want Lucille Ball, I don’t want someone doing back flips in the bedroom but somebody who can laugh at themselves – I don’t like girls who take themselves too seriously, it’s boring to me. I deal with that in LA quite a bit; girls who are just so fussy, so pretentious. So just a girl who has a good sense of humour, who’s close to her family, who is trustworthy, respectful, has a job.

How did you convince your parents to let you poke fun at Islam?
I don’t really poke fun at Islam, I poke fun at the way I was raised Muslim and the way people react to me as a Muslim. I remember when I was a child – not a child, I was probably 19 years old – one of my friends came over to the house and he walked in the door and my mother and father were in mid prayer, and my friend looked at them and then he looked at me and he said ‘What did they lose?’ I go, ‘They’re praying’. And he’s like, ‘To who?’ And having to explain that, it’s funny when you hear it, but for me it’s always explaining. I guess I don’t really poke fun at the religion, it’s more about how I was raised Muslim through my eyes. I try to respect religion as much as I can because Muslims take it really seriously and the last thing you want is a big group of Muslims protesting against you.

Did your parents ever go to your shows?
Yeah, quite a bit. They don’t as much now.

But they’re proud of you, right?
Yeah. They are now. They weren’t at first. My mother just wanted me to be healthy, happy, to find a good job. She definitely wanted me to go to school. My dad was just straight up ashamed. He wouldn’t talk to me for many years and he was very embarrassed that his oldest son would pursue an art form like this.

Are you a practicing Muslim?
On my good days.

And on your bad days?
I ask God for forgiveness.

Like, right afterwards?
During. [Mimes drinking, then looks up] ‘Please forgive me.’
  Look, I’ve read the Quran, I’ve been to Hajj when I was 27 years old. I understand Islam and the philosophy, the faith and the belief behind it. I think when you practise a religion too hardcore, it takes away from the experience because you have to be able to acclimate to the new world you live in and I think trying to enforce religion on people is not healthy. That’s my view on it. But I respect it, and I respect people who practise and believe it.

On your Twitter page, there have been negative tweets between you and a Lebanese comedian. What’s that all about?
He is what we call in America a hater. He thinks he’s a comedian who’s pretty well known in Lebanon and that’s it. And he’s always had some sort of grudge or resentment toward me, I don’t know from what because I’ve never tried to burn him. I had an issue with a mutual promoter we were working with, and he caught wind of it and started attacking me, and I basically told him to go fuck himself; I live in America and here’s my address – if you wanna get into it, let’s get into it. That’s pretty much it. I don’t know what happened but he backed off. Then his fans started attacking me but they had nothing to do with it. He was like making a concerted effort to tell his fans – that’s how small minded he is.
  I tried to stay away from it. The first half dozen tweets I didn’t even respond, but then the tweets started getting really ‘You can go suck your bababababa’, ‘You’re a fag’ and all that stuff. And then I was like, ‘Alright now the gloves are gonna come off’. I’m not a wimp, I’ve got a backbone and I don’t turn the cheek; I go head on with people.

Is that how you deal with criticism usually?
No, but with him yeah. You know if you go on YouTube and you read some of the comments on my page, there’s a lot of people talking a lot of shit. Saying you suck, you’re not funny, you’re gonna burn in hell – I don’t even read those anymore. But if somebody comes at me directly, then that’s a fair fight.

And how do you defend yourself?
I just say thanks for your opinion, have a good night. Why did you come? [Laughs]. Here’s a DVD, get the fuck out of here.

Did 9/11 make you more relevant as a comedian?
Absolutely. People never paid attention to Arab comedians before 9/11. When 9/11 happened, then it was like this magnifying glass – everybody was paying attention to us all of a sudden. ‘Why are you guys running in the building?’; ‘What’s up with the terrorists?’; ‘Do you know a terrorist?’ People were curious, so comedy was a way to harness that negativity and then redirect it in a way that people can understand you. It’s easier for people to listen to you when they’re laughing instead of having somebody shoving politics down your throat or preaching some sort of message.

Is it normal to have your material not sit well with people?
Yeah, people love to pick apart and criticise your act. Don’t come to a comedy show if you can’t swallow what’s happening in the room.

What’s the one thing you would never joke about?
[Thinks hard] Rape. Cancer and... obviously Prophet Muhammad. Those are just beehives I don’t wanna stick my hand into. There’s enough material in the world, you don’t have to push it that far.

Is there any rivalry between other comedians and you?
We did this Axis of Evil Comedy Tour, and there are two other comedians in the group that I don’t even talk to anymore because they simply got jealous.

Jealous?
Well Maz Jobrani and I were the two comics that spearheaded Axis of Evil. Aron Kader and Dean Obeidallah just kind of went along for the ride; Maz and I were doing all the work and they were just kind of sitting back and getting paid. And that’s when we decided that it’s not gonna work like this. You know a lot of people say ‘Oh you just ignore it and turn the cheek’ and I do, but it’s like this Nemr Abou Nassar guy from Lebanon. If you come at me with full force, it’s gonna get ugly and I’ll make a public thing about it and I’m not gonna back down. With the two guys from Axis of Evil, I just felt like we had hit a peak, and there was no room to grow anywhere – I felt like we were outgrowing each other.
  You know you have to remember a lot of comedians are miserable people; that’s why they’re funny too, because comedians are professional complainers.

From what you said about Axis of Evil, does that mean we won’t see a return of it?
It’s dead. Well, Maz and I still work together. We’re like brothers. He’s funny, he’s a great guy and he’s an honest guy.

How do you come up with material?
I normally come up with material based on stuff that has happened to me that’s uncomfortable or tragic or weird. If I have an obscure point of view on something, I don’t sit down and write out a joke – that’s not how I work. Probably 95 per cent of my material comes from reality. For the most part.

Do you think laughing at racial jokes makes you a racist?
No. Funny is funny. I think there’s a difference between being a racist in a vicious way and being racial in a funny way. Like Russell Peters, who’s one of my dear friends, he rips on every race but I think he’s funny the way he does it – I don’t find it racist at all.

Do you see yourself playing film roles other than the dangerous foreign guy or the taxi driver?
Yeah. You know Hollywood is unforgiving when it comes to stereotypes – they don’t care. They like to feed on the stereotypes because it works and also because America is brainwashed by the news and the media that Arabs and Muslims are the bad guys. They’ve run out of bad guys, so Arabs and Muslims are the last on the list. So I’m trying to write my own ticket, trying to get involved with projects where I can be a doctor, a lawyer, play the best friend next door... just the guy with brown hair. It’s Arabs and Muslims that have to start writing our own stories, making our own movies and funding them and producing them.

Is that why you did ‘Just Like Us’?
Absolutely. It was almost like a thesis film to show the general public that, ‘Hey stop watching CNN, the BBC and Fox News – all you see is the negative stereotype; you never see positive impressions.’ I just got sick and tired of it because that’s the culture I come from.

Would you encourage your future children to do what you’re doing?
No. It’s a tough road. It’s a lonely road. It’s an unsafe road, and it’s an unstable road, at least in the beginning. If my kid were to say, ‘I really wanna do it and I’m gonna write every day, keep my nose clean, I’m not gonna party and I’m gonna get to bed on time and do my homework and be a nerd comedian’, then maybe. But if I could do it again after I die, if God allows me to come back to earth and that’s my destiny, I’ll probably come back as a chef – I don’t know if I’ll do comedy ever again. I’m finding, as I’m getting older, I like to be more of the creative behind-the-scenes guy and let other people be the clowns.

‘Just Like Us’, Ahmed’s directorial debut, is available for digital download. Visit www.justlikeusthemovie.com