Justice for Emily Gilmore
My annual re-watch of Gilmore Girls has started and therefore so has the fall season. Perhaps this is my version of football. It's the thing I can rely on every year come September. And even though the storyline has remained the same, my opinions about it have not. I went through most of my formative preteen years watching the unconventional mother-daughter dynamic between Lorelai and Rory Gilmore, always measuring my own relationship with my mother to theirs. Always assuming sympathy for Lorelai. I imagine most of us millennials did, watching the tension brew between three generations of women, simultaneously with our own moms.
Gilmore Girls has remained a timeless piece of nostalgia, especially this time of year, having captured the essence of autumn. All of a sudden I am craving a hot cup of coffee from Luke's and the witty banter between Lorelai—a young single mom with a bookish teenage daughter named Rory — and her mother Emily, an outspoken WASP whose life was turned upside down when her only child got pregnant at sixteen. At the start of the show we see Lorelai as a thirty-something mom forced to reconcile with her parents because she needs their help paying for Rory's prep school tuition. Two distinct sets of family members and their two distinct worlds collide. Stars Hollow, the charm of a quaint, middle-class New England town where Lorelai and Rory reside with all their quirky neighbors remains in stark contrast to the old money culture Rory becomes entrenched at a prep school in Hartford, where her grandparents live and her mother apparently escaped. Both settings serve as vital characters themselves, delivering equally intriguing glimpses into distinct East Coast worlds.
As a teenager I found it endearing. As a therapist and now a mother, I find it troubling.
In the last six or seven years of rewatching Gilmore Girls — I always skip the seasons featuring Jess, as I see enough toxic relationships in my practice, thank you — I have come to an entirely new perspective on every character. Watching as an eleven-year-old, I thought of Lorelai as such a fun, cool mom, the voice of reason against the absurdity of her rigid and entitled mother, Emily Gilmore. I felt for Rory, caught between two worlds she desperately wanted to be part of. Now I see a girl whose ambivalence around her own privilege is quite frankly annoying. What I used to find charming and edgy about Lorelai just seems painful. Dating Rory's teacher, relying on her daughter for emotional support, constantly blurring the lines of mother-daughter enmeshment. As a teenager I found it endearing. As a therapist and now a mother, I find it troubling.
Lorelai remains our main character, a single mom forced to relive elements of her suffocating childhood as she now relies on her parents for financial support. The tension between the life she created for herself and her daughter — absent of her parents' support and control — is supposed to evoke sympathy in us viewers. However, now it just falls flat. The reality is that most of us parents rely on some level of support from our family if we're lucky enough to have it in any capacity — whether it's childcare, a down payment on a house, or just moral support over the phone. And while I understand it can complicate relationships, it's typically a worthwhile endeavor because we all need help raising children. Money can often feel like it comes with strings attached, I get that. But if those strings are creating more connection between family members, I question the fault in that.
Money can often feel like it comes with strings attached. But if those strings are fostering more connection between family members, I question the fault in that.
At the core, you have three generations of women trying to find a way to be in relationship with one another. Emily desires a connection with her adult daughter Lorelai, who ran away from her parents' support at sixteen and somehow found a way to raise Rory on her own — a backstory I must poke a few holes in because I simply don't believe any sixteen-year-old would do that, or that any parent would allow it. Like so many grandparents, Emily wants another chance at parenting. The terms of her financial support require weekly family dinners, what I call as a therapist a ritual of connection. Something I often suggest to clients in both their romantic partnerships and families. Emily could have expected something different — a performance for her peers at a country club. Instead, she used it as an opportunity to be closer to her daughter and grandchildren. A legitimate win-win in my book.
I've found Emily Gilmore to be the most complex character throughout the series. While Lorelai is the one we're supposed to identify with and root for, Emily remains the one whose conviction, character, and growth are most compelling. Her female archetype is easy to pinpoint — rigid, conservative, judgmental. Yet as the show progresses, we see Emily change at her own pace. She shows up for Rory's less formal birthday party. She provides Rory a place to rebuild when she takes a leave from college. She eventually comes around to accept the relationship between Lorelai and Luke.
She's motivated by the people in her life she cares about most, rather than by the wealth and rigidity her archetype appears bound to.
In the series, I believe we have quietly devalued Emily's attempts at repairing her relationship with Lorelai in part due to her upper-class status. Perhaps we assume wealth insulates people from real growth? Perhaps we're unwilling to see past the WASP archetype and recognize how much she's actually evolved? The truth is that Emily is unwilling to sacrifice a chance at rebuilding a relationship with her daughter and granddaughter. In the same way, she is equally unwilling to change her entire personality to satisfy anyone.
That I respect.
Relationships are not built on being right. They are strengthened by being reasonable. In the series, we see the easy targets against Emily — yes, she is old-fashioned, overbearing, and strongly opinionated. However, she is also generous, bold, and vulnerable. She evolves more greatly than any other character, and for good reason. She clearly sees a second chance with her family and she takes it. She's motivated by the people in her life she cares about most, rather than by the wealth and rigidity her archetype appears bound to. That's why I've come to love her. And I think you should too.
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