Growing up, I found solace in television. TV felt easy, like instantaneous access to hyper-beautiful realms. My go-to programs were “Dawson’s Creek,” “The Real World” and anything else laced with heavy melodrama.
I clung to the plotlines of “Desperate Housewives” and cried over the infeasible triumphs of “One Tree Hill.” When Fox cancelled the pinnacle of my teen drama obsession, “The O.C.,” I painted my fingernails black (an avant-garde fashion risk in the eighth grade) and wrote angst-ridden elegies in honor of Seth Cohen.
Though I casually watched “Friends,” I never attached myself to comedic shows during childhood or adolescence. Dramas, whether they were well executed or not, seemed fierce and important. This, I thought, was how adults lived.
But reality isn’t two half-brothers fighting for a basketball championship and their father’s love. People can “stop being polite and start getting real” without living among strangers in MTV’s version of a glorified frat house.
In response to a fan’s observation that “every story does not have a positive ending,” Charlamagne Tha God, my personal hero, recently responded: “That’s why I only read Judy Blume.” The merits of “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” aside, Charlamagne seems to value the credibility of positive outcomes. For every “Hamlet,” there’s an “As You Like It.”
My skepticism of comedic merit stemmed from films like “The Hangover” — vulgar and often sexist works. I disregarded an entire genre based on my few experiences with unrelatable narratives.
Comedy, though, has an immense capacity to challenge cultural norms, allowing lightheartedness to muzzle ferocity’s bite. I wasn’t completely ignorant of this notion; I just never found myself drawn to the genre. With the rising popularity and prevalence of female-led comedies, though, I’ve happily accepted the greatness of what I once considered a lesser form of escapism.
From “Parks and Recreation” (#RestInPower) to “The Mindy Project,” consciously feminist work is gaining immense support through comedic platforms. Netflix’s new, Tina Fey-produced comedy “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt” promotes female assertiveness and solidarity while maintaining sharp wit and candor.
The show, which follows the titular Kimmy Schmidt after her escape from an underground cult, exhibits care and humor without glossing over the trauma of her 15-year stint in a bunker. Jon Hamm, as the charismatic cult leader, is ridiculous while Kimmy is resourceful. She’s a cheery protagonist with fortitude, one who embodies unbreakable will.
