Unless you’ve been hiding under a rock all week or on an enforced digital detox (in which case, namaste…) you may have missed the fact that FRIENDS is coming back.
Though long a Gen X and millennial favourite, since the show landed on Netflix in 2018, it’s been introduced to a whole new generation and – crucially- to a whole new cultural climate. Much has been made of how the show stands up to our current standards, yet my repeat viewing has shown me that, in one respect at least; Friends put female narratives front and centre.
Sure, it wasn’t perfect (we’re looking at you, Fat Monica) but – give the show its dues – from when it first aired in 1994 it always gave space to women’s stories and their choices.
With a few notable exceptions, most US sitcoms at this time relied on the same tired trope of the long-suffering, nagging wife – usually a comic foil for the much-funnier main male character (see Everybody Loves Raymond, Home Improvement and everything in between). Friends was different. For starters; it was a show with six main characters whom it gave fairly equal screen time to. Monica, Rachel and Phoebe were not supporting roles to Ross, Joey and Chandler, or adjuncts to the main thrust of the narrative; but were independent characters – with their own arcs that often never intersected with the men, frequently overshadowed them and – even more significantly – often had nothing to do with romance at all.
Let’s take the first main storyline the show throws at us: The Emancipation of Rachel Green. She arrives on screen in a wedding dress; a privileged rich-girl who believes her greatest goal in life is marrying well. She ends the show’s ten season arc, the only unmarried woman of the group, a mother who cuts her maternity leave short, with a burgeoning career (though more on THAT Paris job later). It may seem quaint to modern audiences, but Rachel’s initial journey was quietly revolutionary in the early nineties; a girl who was told that all she could amount to was the success of her husband; had one of the show’s biggest career narratives; from (awful) coffee shop waitress to a woman so in demand in her industry that she has Gucci, Ralph Lauren and Louis Vuitton fighting over her.
The focus the show gave women’s careers was impressive. Monica’s pronounced desire to get married and have children never eclipsed her own work trajectory, giving her character a true nuance which fought against that tired female binary of either/or. She was never reduced to the stereotypes she could have been (neat freak, mother hen, desperate for babies) this always sat comfortably alongside her unflappable sense of her own ambition. She fought back against workplace bullying (“It’s my way or the highway!”) and was always seen scrambling and fighting to do what she loved in her job. She gave up moving to Tulsa for her husband, to instead take a head chef job at a restaurant she loved – in a neat parallel of Rachel’s inverse decision with her Paris job.
Even Phoebe’s comparatively less ‘powerful’ career , as a masseuse, was given weight. Her struggles with money, her fighting discrimination at work and also, her burgeoning songwriting career, in which she sacrifices lucrative deals for her integrity, were all developed. Phoebe’s storylines were also unique, not only for how often they were kooky and creative- but for how seldom they revolved around a man. Perhaps more so than any female character on the show, Phoebe was never defined by a relationship, even her on-screen pregnancy was not a conventional one. Even her marriage to Mike was done spectacularly on her own terms and her struggles with conformity are another facet of her character that were thoughtfully discussed – fitting neatly with her desire for the family she never had. Phoebe’s journey was always off-kilter, always independent, and never compromised.
The choices made by the female characters on this show were given great depth. Phoebe’s pregnancy was a huge choice; as was her struggle to give away the triplets. It was a weighty decision – about her own body – but one that felt true to a character with such a strong sense of selflessness. Monica’s own unshakable desire to have children was so strong that she sacrificed Richard for it. She was a woman so in touch with her own needs, and unwilling to compromise, that she was even – for a brief episode in season three – prepared to have a baby alone.
Rachel’s choices were, for a long time, perhaps unfairly tied to Ross. Yet, if we look closer; all of her decisions in relation to him, prioritised her self worth. Their first near miss was over Ross’s ‘list’ of Rachel’s worst points – something she initially refused to forgive him for. Their ‘we were on a break’ split was a result of Ross’s insecurities over Rachel’s growing career independence; something she was quick to chastise him for and, eventually, broke up with him for. It’s easy to look at Rachel’s final decision- to give up the job in Paris for Ross – as the ultimate rejection of this previous trend in her character, and perhaps the reunion show will shed some light on what happened next; but whatever we think about it- Rachel’s choice was her choice and it is equally reductive of us to assume she did not – in fact- prioritise her own happiness in that moment.
Friends was not a daring and progressive show; it never claimed to be. But there was a quiet rebellion in its writing around women. All the female characters- even the supporting cast, from Janice to Carol- were an empowered bunch. Women were not a disposable, sidelined narrative, but often carried much of the emotional weight of the show. We can say all we like about its imperfections, but for a sitcom of the 1990s – it showed unapologetic career women, women unashamed of their sexuality, lesbian mothers raising their son together, single mothers battling workplace discrimination, women making choices for their own happiness, women with stories to tell beyond their relation to a man.
So let’s raise a cappuccino to the discreet, influential feminism of Friends. It didn’t shout out loud, but it sent a message regardless.
