In comparison to single moms elsewhere, on Gilmore Girls, they're heroes. In fact, when it comes to parenting on the show, there's a recurring theme: Men! Not quite as good as women, are they?
They're certainly inferior to Lorelai Gilmore, the bright, witty firebrand who single-handedlyraised the cleverest girl in Stars Hollow while working her way from chambermaid to manager of a local inn, gaining a business degree in the process. Sure, at times she's a little over-invested in her daughter Rory's life (like when she sleeps over during Rory's first night at college), and she can be rude and selfish, especially when it comes to her own parents (although not entirely without reason). But she's also the fun mom who'll take you to concerts and and sneak you into her bachelorette party by pretending you're an international supermodel.
No wonder, then, that her parenting prowess doesn't only extend to her own child, but to those of the men she knows and dates, as well.
While men who unexpectedly become single parents are often presented as inspirational, women in the same position tend to be vilified. Take Murphy Brown.
The show's eponymous lead character, a TV journalist, became pregnant in her early forties and soon discovered her baby daddy didn't want to be a father. So this wealthy, talented, intelligent woman set about raising a baby on her own. Responsible, you might think. At the very least, making the best of things. Not according to then-Vice President Dan Quayle, who considered Murphy to be a scourge of humanity.
Back in 1992, Quayle used the occasion of the L.A. Riots as an opportunity for a little moralizing about family values. While he did at least acknowledge men's role in creating single parent families (saying, "Failing to support children one has fathered is wrong,") he focused his criticism on Candace Bergen's fictional character, ranting: "It doesn't help matters when primetime TV has Murphy Brown — a character who supposedly epitomizes today's intelligent, highly paid, professional woman — mocking the importance of fathers by bearing a child alone, and calling it just another 'lifestyle choice'."
When it comes to roles on television and in movies, fat actresses have few options. Instead of portraying diverse, multifaceted characters, they are usually relegated to either sassy fat sidekick or supportive fat best friend. Of course, as Marissa Audia-Raymo illustrates in her BUST Magazine article "The Fat Friend" (August/September Issue), these stereotypes ring true in real life as well.