Is The Bear Committing “Category Fraud”? Either Way, Ayo Edebiri Deserves Her Historic Emmy Noms

For many TV watchers The Bear and controversial Emmy nominations go hand in hand. For the last few years, every time the show scores Emmys nominations — like this year’s 13 nods — the same statement inevitably gets cranked out of the discourse machine: “The Bear is not a comedy.” The show has consistently earned nominations and won in comedic Emmy categories, sparking outcry from viewers and critics who ask, “How can a show about anxiety, trauma, and family breakdowns be a comedy?” But this leads to another question: In an era where genres are constantly being blurred and reimagined, do categories even matter? And further, does this whole debate overshadow artists’ achievements? 

This year, one of The Bear’s breakout stars Ayo Edebiri has made Emmys history. She’s the first woman ever to be nominated for both acting and directing in a comedy series and she’s the youngest Black woman to have earned three acting nominations. She’s up for ‘Outstanding Leading Actress in a Comedy Series’ and ‘Outstanding Directing For A Comedy Series’ for her directing work on the episode “Napkins”. While calling The Bear a “comedy” might be questionable, there’s no doubt that Edebiri’s phenomenal work, both in front of and behind the camera, deserves recognition — and award wins.

That tension between the category and the content has made The Bear a lightning rod for awards discourse and, to be fair, the “Emmys fraud” debate isn’t entirely without merit. There’s a long history of shows making strategic decisions to improve their chances of success. At the Emmys, shows can submit themselves to any category they choose, so they tend to pick the one they believe they are more likely to win. Lead actors submit themselves to the supporting actor category or more dramatic shows submit themselves to the comedy categories, bending the rules to secure an award. For example, in 2014, Joe Morton — who played protagonist Oliva’s father in Scandal — was submitted for the “Outstanding Guest Star” award category despite appearing in most episodes that season. 

It also doesn’t help that the Television Academy (who runs the Emmys) used to state for years that comedies were defined as having a run time of 30 minutes. Therefore, a show like The Bear, exploring panic attacks, grief spirals, and high-stakes emotional reckoning alongside lighter comedic moments ended up being classified as a comedy by default because most of the episodes' runtimes fit the comedic categories by definition. They changed these rules in 2021. Comedic acting has historically been undervalued, so when a show like The Bear dominates the comedy category, it raises valid concerns about whether dramas-in-disguise are crowding out more traditional, and equally deserving comedic work. The reality is TV genres straddle a medley of storytelling styles, which is great for viewers who appreciate innovation — award shows need to keep up. 

Bearing all this in mind, it’s difficult not to feel happy for Edebiri — what matters most is her work being recognized. Her work in front of and behind the camera has been exceptional. Season 3 of The Bear often felt sluggish and struggled to find its feet, but flashback episode "Napkins" (Edebiri’s directorial debut and written by Catherine Schetina) stood out as a beautiful, tender insight into chef Tina (played by Liza Colón-Zayas) and how she became who is in the kitchen. We see the working-class woman of color, mother, and wife struggle after being suddenly thrust back into the modern LinkedIn-ified world of work, pitted against graduates and younger workers vying for the same jobs, facing endless faux-polite rejections and the immense pressure to continue providing for her family in a job market that doesn’t value her. A coincidental but deeply meaningful encounter with Mikey at The Beef helps Tina reinvent herself in the workplace.

The Bear tends to veer between unbearably hectic and tranquil; Edebiri shows her directorial chops by directing an episode imbued with that quiet stillness. We see the camera focus on aspects of Tina’s everyday routine, and watch as the stability of her life begins crumbling. Whilst this part of Tina’s story is sad, she’s not a pitiful figure. Edebiri gives the character a sense of fight, determination and dignity despite the anguish.     

Edebiri has continued to build on her skills in 2025’s Season 4, directing and starring in the episode “Worms” — a tender portrait of Blackness, family, and community whilst also a highly introspective character study. Sydney (Edebiri) is facing a long stretched out dilemma: should she stay at The Bear or leave to join Chef Adam Shapiro’s new venture? As Shapiro begins to feel like an awkward mismatch rather than a viable new business partner, it’s also the first time we see the show delve more explicitly into racial themes. 

In the episode, Shapiro doesn't understand that Sydney’s hair appointment is likely to take all day, he over-explains why he's blasting an East Coast rap song, and is then surprised when she chooses to put Beethoven on instead. He expects her to "bring in Afro Caribbean influences" to the restaurant, despite the fact we've never really seen her cook that style of cuisine (Sydney is also Nigerian). Later, he asks her if she's seen the Chris Rock documentary Good Hair. He has the air of a 2020 self-described "white ally" who reduces Sydney to her racial identity, putting her in a box and diminishing her humanity. (Predictably, his good nature quickly disappears when he doesn't get what he wants from her later in the series.)  

“Worms” also reflects the deeply familiar shared experience of Black women getting their hair done: Sydney gossiping hairstylist/cousin Chantel (played by Danielle Deadwyler who is hilarious in the episode), getting her hair braided at home rather than in a salon, the stylist code-switching on the phone then back to her authentic self with Sydney, Chantel scolding her young daughter TJ for talking back. It's a very believable portrayal of a near-universal experience for Black women. 

The exploration of Sydney's dilemma through her conversation with the much younger TJ is an interesting twist. There’s hardly any food in the house, so they go on an impromptu shopping trip, and leisurely make a home-cooked meal; the timer on the oven is stuck at 12:00. Unlike the demands of the professional kitchen, time is suspended and Sydney has the time to contemplate  her  choices through the simplicity of a child-like metaphor: choosing which house to go to for a sleepover. Getting a glimpse into Sydney’s familial relationships creates a contrast with Carmy (Jeremy Allen White), who can’t even remember he’s now an uncle.   

“Worms” demonstrates deftly the tension of choosing between someone who seems  "right" on paper (Shapiro) and people who — despite their flaws — feel like home (Syd’s coworkers at The Bear). Edebiri’s ability to convey that tension in her meandering dialogue, wide eyes, pauses, and sometimes unconvincing justifications for why she’s still at The Bear is outstanding.

Comedy or drama, The Bear’s writing, storytelling and directing is warm, grounded, realistic and brings us back to the heart of the show: food. The Bear is often far more interested in the personal and the micro, than the political and macro, but to me it has always quietly reflected a truth about multi-racial America, particularly for working-class people. People from different backgrounds work, socialize and care about each other. The Bear restaurant is often referred to as a family— albeit a chaotic one— and that extends to something very true about people in America more broadly, contrary to the story that more Conservative power holders want to tell. In a wider landscape of ICE raids and other racially hostile policies, the quiet politics Edibiri skillfully and convincingly teases out feels important.

The Emmys will likely continue to cause controversy but Edebiri’s work in The Bear has been extraordinary, whether she’s stealing scenes on  camera, or shaping the emotional storytelling behind it. The show may be blurring the lines of comedy and drama — but that is actually a key ingredient in making The Bear unmissable TV.