In 2011 MTV's "Awkward" premiered and introduced what the show’s producers clearly thought was a revolutionary teenage female character. Jenna (Ashley Rickards) was clumsy and lacked interest in stereotypically “feminine” activities like fashion and makeup. Audiences were made to believe she was “quirky” because she spoke her mind and wore her hair in a side braid. The show was designed in the hopes that it could appeal to a wide audience by presenting teenagers with a character they could relate to: one that doesn’t get dates, isn’t popular and is hopelessly misunderstood. But the reality is that Jenna’s character was boring and most likely only relatable to a very specific type of teenager. I remember watching the first few episodes and feeling immediately annoyed at how hard Jenna tried to be different. And if I, a white teenage girl, wasn’t relating to her then I can’t imagine how unseen and unheard BIPOC teens felt. It’s no secret that representation has notoriously been an issue in Hollywood and that’s a blog post in itself, but this post goes beyond that issue to a more specific point: the awkward white girl trope that pervades sitcoms and romantic comedy films. Jenna is the same character we’ve seen on screen a hundred times before. She’s the same character that appears in “Gilmore Girls,” “Unfabulous,” “Lizzie McGuire” and every Mary Kate and Ashley or Amanda Bynes movie. It’s a character I thought we had finally overcome thanks to shows like “Insecure” and “The 100” and “Euphoria,” but while these shows are the future, they are still mere stepping stones toward progress in female leads in television. "Awkward" wasn't the first comedy show to introduce a boring-ass main character and it certainly will not be the last.
But this post isn't about "Awkward.” This post is about Hulu's "Dollface" and how Brenda Song should 1000% have been the main character.
I generally enjoy shows on Hulu, and although I started much later than most, I was excited to finally begin watching "Dollface.” I’m only seven episodes in (so I realize my thoughts may later be invalidated,) but the basic premise of “Dollface” is about the journey of a young, 20-something woman who was recently dumped by her boyfriend and now must re-enter the world of female friendship she abandoned five years ago. The set and costumes are fabulous, and each episode feels like a combination of Wes Anderson meets Sophia Coppola. I have no qualms with the style of the show or the acting, my problem is with the writing of the main character: another bland white girl. Like “Awkward,” “Dollface” tries to let audiences know that Jules is “not like other girls” because she doesn't understand femininity, or societal norms, or fashion, and hates partying and spontaneity. The audience is supposed to identify with her for these seemingly normal attributes and for the sarcastic comments she makes about every situation in which she finds herself thrust into. Oh, AND Jordan Weiss, the show’s creator, gave her main character a non-typical white girl name, Jules, in an attempt to make her feel more unique.
But frankly, Jules lacks depth and is boring to say the least. Her only redeeming qualities are that she is trying to become a better person and Kat Dennings (Jules) has beautiful hair. She pales in comparison to her two super interesting best friends whose lives are worth investing in and make for much more compelling characters. With each episode, I find myself laboriously watching the minutes Jules is alone and hoping that one of her friends appears soon to add more excitement to the scene. So much of the comedic content created for millennial women is about this same type of woman. All of this is not to say that many women probably do identify with Jules’s character and her struggle to find herself and true friendship after a bad breakup. But aren’t we all a bit tired of watching a one-dimensional heterosexual white girl find herself on television? I don’t want to watch another show about a “quirky,” dry-humored white girl whose life producers try to convince me is similar to my own. I do, however, want to watch a show about Brenda Song’s character, Madison, a bold, uptight PR official, who is terrified of magic shows, overprotective of her friends and is hiding her worry over her mother’s financial security. I’d also watch a show about Shay Mitchell’s character, Stella, who makes money from a variety of odd jobs, has an incredible fashion sense, a vivacious sex life and is struggling to take herself seriously in a business world when everyone around her expects her to remain the party girl.
These are the women I relate to. These are the women I want to see represented in television sitcoms. I’m not saying I am at all successful like Song’s character, or fashionable and cool like Mitchell’s character, but I do see myself and my friends represented in each of their struggles. I’m invested in their well being because they feel real to me. The mark of a well written main character in my opinion, is that varying audiences can find some aspect of that person to latch onto, some character trait that makes us root for a character’s successes and cry over their failures. Or, the character is so uniquely written that viewers can’t help but dive into their story.
The television and film industry seems intent upon delivering this same type of character over and over again because they think it’s what audiences want. But us awkward white women have already seen ourselves represented on screen countless times before and it’s time to move on. I want more shows about characters like Madison and Stella on “Dollface.” I don’t have to personally identify with the main character of a TV show to enjoy it, I just have to find them interesting. It’s honestly a win, win situation because the more characters that are created based on the life experiences of real people means the more relatable they become, and to a larger audience. It’s time we tell stories about women of all different races, sexualities and socioeconomic status. I’m not saying I hate Jules’s character, but I don’t believe she’s interesting enough to carry the show. If all of “Dollface” was written about Song’s character, however, I honestly think it would be more successful.