I Forgive You, Rory Gilmore.

*This post contains spoilers for major events and plot points in Gilmore Girls. For the sake of this piece, I do not consider the Netflix special, Gilmore Girls: A Year in the Life.

Carole King’s voice booms out of the speakers. The theme song that I don’t know all the words to (yet) fills the house.

If you’re out on the road…

The title card — Gilmore girls — lays over a grainy shot of a quaint New England town, fades quickly into what is clearly an Autumn tree.

Feeling lonelyyyy and sooo cooold…

Red and orange leaves shake behind the title, and the colors reflect on my face, which is wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

All you have to do is caaall my naaame…

I fall in love, almost immediately.

I chastise myself.

This is it. This is the exact vibe I needed. How have I not seen Gilmore Girls before??????

I’d considered myself a pretty prolific TV watcher, but I’d somehow managed to miss one of the most beloved and cherished TV series of all time.

Who Are the Gilmore Girls?

Set in the storybook fictional town of Stars Hollow, the series follows single, spunky, independent mom Lorelai Gilmore (Lauren Graham) and her studious, shy daughter Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel).

Perhaps the original slice-of-life TV show, Gilmore Girls follows the daily lives and events of this mom and daughter duo.

We follow along for seven seasons as Lorelai tries to navigate love, run an inn with her best friend Sookie (Melissa McCarthy), and reconnect with her parents who she’d been estranged from since getting pregnant at 16. We watch (at times, disappointedly) as Rory bumbles through her love life, reads classic books on a gazebo bench, and makes friends until she eventually graduates from Yale.

Lorelai (left) and Rory (right) taking a stroll through Stars Hollow.

Okay… But What Is Gilmore Girls?

Complete with a recurring cast of quirky, memorable, and close-knit townspeople, Gilmore Girls knows exactly what it is for people. What I mean by this is: It knows precisely what type of reprieve it provides its loyal viewers.

It provides a place where you can enter a diner and everyone knows your name. A place where you can walk across the street without the fear of getting struck by a car or catcalled, to where you buy groceries at a store in which the owner is also the town’s selectman.

For 45 minutes, you can read a book under a tree, attend a town hall meeting where you catch up on the latest gossip, and overindulge on coffee and pancakes with your very best friend. You can have entire conversations about movies, music, and books in a snow-covered inn. You can go to charming events in the town square where your neighbor hands you a hot chocolate.

You can rest here. You can relax here. You can feel safe here. Life is, for the most part, so pleasant in Stars Hollow.

Stars Hollow: Founded 1779. The object of my desire ever since.

And Gilmore Girls wants to keep it this way.

This is a show that rarely wants to tangle itself in matters more serious than installing a stoplight camera. A show that fills a room with a thousand yellow daisies. A show that gives valuable airtime to trivial neighborhood squabbles and whacky running gags. This is a show where even the very background music and soundtrack are nothing more than a few dainty la-la-la’s (no, seriously—and each la is a banger) set to a delicate tambourine and the slow strum of a guitar. It’s as if Gilmore Girls is a young girl of its own sticking her fingers in her ears, skipping and tra-la-la-ing all over town, refusing to listen or talk back to anything that’s actually dramatic.

In other words? This is a show in which whole episodes center on seemingly frivolous, carefree matters—because it’s even more careful with the stakes it does decide to raise. Gilmore Girls does not fuck around with what it knows itself to be, and that’s perhaps the most serious thing about it.

You might be wondering then: Where exactly is the drama? How could they drag out a show for seven seasons without any drama?

Don’t get me wrong. Gilmore Girls still obviously has drama. While it does remain dedicated to its lighthearted spirit, there are of course some dramatic beats coursing and grounded throughout its run (it wouldn’t be a show worth seven seasons without them). There’s Lorelai’s estranged and fraught relationship with her parents. Lorelai’s will-they-or-won’t they relationship with the grumpy-but-lovable diner-owner, Luke. Her years-long ambition and struggle to open an inn of her own. Her precarious relationship with Rory’s father, Christopher.

And then there’s Rory.

The People vs. Rory Gilmore

For the first couple seasons, Rory is—what audiences and the internet have essentially deemed her—perfect. She can do no wrong. She’s invincible when we first meet and get to know her. She’s unlike other teenage girls on TV at the time. She’s studious, well-read, shy, awkward around boys, kind to her parents and grandparents, soft-spoken. She cares about her grades and on the straight-and-narrow to an ivy league. She doesn’t concern herself with partying or makeup or drugs or boys. She’s Rory, and all she wants to do is read and hang out with her mom. And the audience loved this about her.

Rory, before her “downfall.”

As the series progresses and Rory grows up, however, we begin to see cracks in this perfect veneer.

Rory gets her first boyfriend, Dean, and starts treating her best friend, Lane, like an afterthought. Then—while still with Dean—Rory has not one, but two, dicey acquaintances. One with her classmate, Tristan, and eventually, with the new bad boy in town, Jess.

Okay, okay. Sure. Nothing to panic about just yet, right? This is pretty typical of any teenage girl, ivy league bound or not.

But it’s after Rory begins to essentially emotionally cheat on Dean with Jess that we begin to panic. Rory lies to people around her, Dean included, about the nature of her interactions with Jess. She gaslights those closest to her and is dishonest with everyone (including herself and by proxy, with us). And as painful and alarming it is to watch our perfect little Rory do this, it’s only the beginning of a long list of transgressions people have against her.

Among this list are dozens of other frustrating choices over which Gilmore Girls fans still hold a grudge. Until the very end of the show, Rory essentially spirals out of character with actions and behavior that is so far away from the cute, shy, perfect girl we first met. To name a few, Rory:

• Kisses Jess while still in a relationship with Dean.

• Misses her mom’s very special graduation day to get on a bus and visit Jess in New York.

• Gets back together, kind of, with Dean. This time, Dean is married, and they sleep together.

• Rory defends this decision, by the way, claiming, “He was my boyfriend first!”

• Responds terribly to the first piece of criticism she’s ever had, leading her to steal a yacht???

• DROPS OUT OF YALE!!!!!!!

• Starts disrespecting Lorelai, who has only been one of the kindest, most understanding, and coolest moms ever????

• Moves in with her grandparents, paining Lorelai more than she’ll ever know.

It’s for these reasons and many more I didn’t include that people get so frustrated with and practically come to hate Rory. The feelings are exacerbated by how truly perfect and beloved and cherished her character was at the start of the series.

By the end, even die-hard lovers of the show feel Rory is entitled, spoiled, privileged, bratty, shallow, and selfish. Yet, fans and viewers often claim they can understand the fact that nobody, not even Rory, can remain perfect forever. They understand even Rory is human, and therefore prone to making some bad choices and mistakes.

What most people can’t forgive, however, is the fact that Rory never seems to suffer any consequences or learn from her actions. This is what viewers can’t get over.

But here’s the thing.

Maybe Rory gets off scot free on purpose.

I Forgive You, Rory Gilmore.

I believe Gilmore Girls knows what it is.

Maybe it’s my own naiveté that clings onto this belief or because I really don’t want to believe Rory would do this to us, but I genuinely think Gilmore Girls knows what it means to people. I think it knows it brings us much-needed comfort. Lightheartedness. Reprieve. Safety. Low stakes.

Nobody watches Gilmore Girls hoping for Breaking Bad-level character development and drama.

This is not that show. That is not what it’s here to do for us.

It is, more than anything, incredibly careful with the stakes it raises. This is why Gilmore Girls dances so delicately with its dramatic potential time and time again.

We see this dawdling not only in the things it decides to explore, but in the things it refuses to explore.

In a show so jam-packed of what could be dramatic scrutiny of class, race, privilege, fidelity, teenage pregnancy, parental estrangement, intergenerational trauma, ivy league institutions, unexpected children… it just so rarely unpacks it.

Some of this will sometimes reveal itself via off-hand comments or painful stares. Even rarer are moments where the drama reveals itself in arguments between Lorelai and Rory and/or the grandparents, and even these “tense” moments are so often suffocated by fast-talking, sarcasm, and digressions into pop culture.

When looked at all together, these moments feel more as if to simply remind viewers that they know the dramatic potential is there, rather than they feel high-stakes or of any real consequence (see where I’m getting at?).

Much of Gilmore Girls’ drama is so often glossed over. It’s rarely given enough breath to really expand its lungs, take up space, and fully reveal itself to us. So many of the biggest emotional beats in the show are tacked onto the very end, only to fade to credits. So many dramatic moments are never quite had, only inferred or cut short.

Aaaaand we’re leaving. So close.

I recall the one of the few times we got titillatingly close to actually unpacking something about teenage pregnancy and childhood/intergenerational trauma in Season 6, Episode 7.

Rory, after dropping out of Yale against Lorelai’s wishes, is living with her grandparents, Emily and Richard (Lorelai’s parents). When Rory seems uncontrollable even under her grandparents’ care, Emily shouts, “We have not failed until that girl [Rory] comes home pregnant!” in front of Lorelai. Lorelai, their daughter who originally left home because she became pregnant at 16.

I remember gasping when I heard this. My heart pumped with anticipation and I wanted the family to finally have this nasty, gooey, real unearthing of this drama.

And then Lorelai quite literally walks out the door without saying anything more than, “And on that note!”

So the drama. It’s there, but it won’t go there. I’m not saying this is a bad thing. It’s just not Gilmore Girls’ thing. I’m not saying that the show is devoid of emotion, either. It can be plenty emotional. Any time Rory or Lorelai cry on each other’s shoulder is a truly heartfelt moment. Other times, the show relies heavily on evoking emotion via future audiences’ (now, our present) nostalgia. And just sprinkled throughout are some kind and intimate moments.

Still, it just won’t ever truly go there. I mean, this is a show in the early 2000s that showed a young girl in a therapist’s office, and all it did was crack jokes about coffee instead of delving into why Rory is there in the first place.

And how do you feel about that?

It’s also a show where Jackson, Sookie’s husband and the lovable produce delivery guy, essentially performs marital rape (he impregnates Sookie after lying about getting a vasectomy) and it produces nothing more than a cold shoulder and a why-I-oughta! fist shake from Sookie.

So I remain convinced that Gilmore Girls knows what it wants to be for people. It wants to be the harmless, joyful, low stakes, comforting show. It wants to be a source of solace. It wants to invite you to Luke’s Diner, Stars Hollow Books, Kim’s Antiques, and it wants you to enjoy just enough town gossip to keep you invested without running you out of town.

None of it is very dramatic or takes itself too seriously. It’s surface level, and that’s perfectly okay for a show I come to for comfort.

And it’s for this exact reason Rory never actually suffers any real consequences for her actions.

Even after ruining a marriage, dropping out of Yale (she eventually goes back and finishes), stealing a boat, and treating others like crap, she never seems to actually feel remorse or learn from her actions.

And while this might frustrate those who love the show and Rory “at the beginning,” we might not fully understand that this sacrifice had to be made to ultimately protect what we love—the safety and comfort it brings us. We don’t want the painful drama. We don’t want the stakes. We don’t want the consequences.

One might argue: Well, if the show really knew this and didn’t want to mess with that, they would have never messed with Rory’s character in the first place.

That might be well and true, but it’s just unrealistic that Rory NEVER messes up.

To this, someone might retort: But it’s realistic that she never suffers any real consequences or learns from her mistakes? It’s just not in her character to do these things!

Even Alexis Bledel has said in an interview with Jimmy Fallon that “[the scripts were] so out of character!”

But are they really? Her bad choices are encouraged and perpetuated because she never suffers any consequences. And her lack of consequence is armored behind her class, her privilege, her race, her generational wealth, her socioeconomic upbringing. I’d argue that is in her character.

This villianization and her “downfall” are essentially the price Rory has to pay to keep Gilmore Girls what it is. Because the show is more self-aware than Rory is, it sacrifices one of its very own Gilmore girls. It destroys fundamental Rory, to remain quintessential Gilmore Girls.

And as much as we disagree with and sometimes even hate Rory, I’ve come to understand that it has to be this way.

Oh, Rory. Our little sacrificial lamb.

I forgive you.

What Actually Pains Me About Gilmore Girls Is Not Rory

I fell in love with Gilmore Girls the second I turned it on. But truthfully, as comforting and low stakes as this show is, it still brings a unique pain in my heart when I watch it. It feels as if I’m watching memories that I’ve never had. Memories that don’t belong to me. And all I can do is pine for them.

I want so badly all the things shown to me in Gilmore Girls. I feel a terrible yearning every time I hear the sweet la-la-la’s and tambourines. And my problem isn’t so much with Rory and her mistakes.

I think, perhaps, it’s that I’m ruthlessly jealous of her.

I want to live in a small-town community just like Stars Hollow. A town that’s walkable, that’s not so car-dependent. A town where people and neighbors gather. Where local businesses stay local.

I want to live somewhere beautiful. Somewhere with seasons, character, and charm. Something to fucking say and be.

I want to live out my dark academia dreams and attend an ivy league school for free because my unabashedly rich grandparents paid for it.

I want grandparents.

I want her book collection.

I want her ability to eat whatever and whenever she wants without suffering any of those consequences either.

I want the ability to get away with things scot free.

I want, more than anything, the relationship she has with her mom.

It’s precisely this aspect of Gilmore Girls that pains me the most. Strangely enough, it’s one of the most beloved and joyful and uncomplicated dynamics in the show. Hell, it’s the titular joy of it all!

And yet, I can’t help but to feel my heart tear when I watch Lorelai and Rory have this table-tennis banter. When they run into each other’s arms for hugs. When they cry on each other’s shoulders. It’s arguably the most comforting thing, and sometimes I can hardly stand to watch it unfold in front of me.

I wish, as I watch Rory share coffee with her mom, shop all over town with her mom, call her mom for advice, fall asleep on her mom’s lap, talk honestly with her mom, that I could have that, too.

I suppose it’s all the watching it on TV, the most joyful and comforting show about a mother and daughter, that pains me the most.