One of the best things about the 21st century has so far been—at least in this author’s opinion—the evolution of women’s portrayal in stories for the screen. As disclaimers go, she is very aware of the prevalent misogyny and violence against women that grips our harrowing existence. The intent of this article is not to negate the collective, steep, uphill effort to have women seen and treated as humans. Rather, it is a celebration of women being portrayed as real people with depths, layers, and above all, flair and fortitude in the tiny corner of our lives that television occupies.

With a quarter of the century behind us, where 2005 feels like ten years ago to the overmined millennial mind, it seemed like an appropriate time to reminisce about characters whose fictional storylines run parallel to the winding course of my own character development. As archetypes are the foundation of how we categorize and create relatable, narrative-aiding characters for on-screen stories, I have picked five arc-‘she’-types that have delighted me (and are still delighting, thanks to reruns and rewatch) for the last 25 years:

On my terms

This was the first phase of my coming-of-age as the quintessential ‘strong, independent woman’. My young adult mind was shaped by characters like Roz Doyle (Frasier) and Monica Geller-Bing (Friends), who inspired in me the idea that I can unashamedly want what I want and assert my right to have it on my own terms. Roz Doyle was the most influential character for me then.

She was a gutsy, no-nonsense career woman who made me see for the first time that it is absolutely fine for a woman to freely speak her mind. She was sexually assertive, unpretentious, and never settled for any man, even though she sought out a fulfilling, long-term, romantic relationship for most of the show. Her transition into a single mom who was rooted in her career while juggling dates and childcare was unbelievably real, hilarious, and illuminating of the possibilities of what a woman can achieve without having to choose between career and motherhood or between pleasure and societal approval.

Other notable characters who made me think past my disapproval of them (ha!) were those of Monica Geller-Bing (Friends), Kelly Kapoor (The Office), and Jackie Burkhart (That 70s Show). While I personally did not feel a debilitatingly compulsive need to settle down with a spouse and attain the exalted status of motherhood, I was moved by Monica’s overall indomitable spirit. Her quips and quirks aside, she was a highly driven go-getter in her professional as well as personal life. She made me believe that I could have it all.

While a lot has changed in the cultural revolution of our time, re-molding our views on the have-it-all approach to life, to know that one could have-it-all if one wanted to was an inconceivable idea for most of our mothers and nearly all of our grandmothers. And that realization alone would suffice to appreciate what an impactful persona Monica embodied.

When it comes to Kelly Kapoor and Jackie Burkhart, I initially saw them just on the surface: attention-seeking, manipulative, and in Jackie’s case, downright shallow. As the show progressed, however, I learnt from them the importance of being vocal, disruptive, and fairly articulate about my needs, boldly declaring what I want, and wearing my vulnerability like a badge of honor instead of hiding it behind a veil of aloofness and detachment—which is fine for dominating high school politics but unsustainable for a healthy adult life.

In hindsight, I see Kelly’s Ryan and Jackie’s Michael and Steven as the archetype of men who find it in their right to treat women like they are unwanted, while truly and deeply needing women’s attention and admiration as the key to their own sense of self-worth.

Looking at it now, if it were a man sketched as “dramatic”, machismo, high-maintenance; words used to outline Kelly or Jackie, it would probably just say something like ‘cool guy’.

Individual identity

Funnily, Donna Pinciotti (That 70s Show) was positioned as the opposite of Jackie Burkhart. A wall of solid individuality and tomboyishness against effervescence and vanity. Growing up in suburban South India in the 90s, the ideas of feminism and intellectual explorations were wildly revolutionary for girls my age who were being groomed to serve men and breed for them. Donna represented an alternative way of existence being possible.

Let’s say a hippier Monica, someone who was assertive and hungry to make something of herself but was also questioning basic patriarchal ideas of gender roles in society, not just in the macro level but in the micro level too. She taught me that the hardest battles would be the ones fought for your rights inside of a committed relationship, and those are worth the pain.

In their friendship, Jackie and Donna taught each other their approaches, like complementary opposites. But a closer look shows that they were made of the same mettle, just expressed differently. Rejecting patriarchal norms and playing the queen within its confines may be different choices, but the underlying approach is the same: you will see me as an individual and meet me on my terms.

And then came ‘How I Met Your Mother’. Robin Schrebatsky blew my mind. A solely career-driven girl who absolutely rejected wifedom and motherhood. Yes, later she did get married, which came at the end of an interesting personal evolution—from being commitment-phobic and territorial to learning how to hold space for two people without losing the one that you are.

The interesting facet of Robin’s profile and arc was that she set out to become someone first. Her priority was her whole existence as a thinking, seeking, doing human. Within the show’s story-world, it was inconceivable to even suggest that Robin set her individual plans aside for something as trivial as ‘a guy’.

That very distinct version of the modern woman was a double level-up: I don’t have to have it all; I just need to have what I want to have. That took the pressure off achieving societal approval and on to self-actualization.

To top it off, in her friendship with the diametrically opposite Lily, the show, like many others, demonstrated that female friendships are not defined by similarities but in solidarity with each other in a world that was not designed for us to truly bond, let alone thrive. Robin’s respect for Lily, whose life choices and career trajectory were in complete contrast to hers, was both illuminating and gratifying to watch. In her heart and in jest, she showed me how to hone my individual identity with passion, be met on my terms with integrity, and be accepting of the messy moments that we co-create for ourselves.