The Four Facets of Feminism     

Jacqueline, Titus, Kimmy, and Lillian

                A woman returning to a normal life after being kept in an underground bunker for 13 years in a doomsday cult sounds like an unconventional plot for a sitcom. Yet Tina Fey, producer and writer of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, has been able to drive the successful show for four seasons complete with obscure cultural references, progressive character arcs and fresh spins on the coming-of-age trope. The show focuses on the life of its titular character Kimmy as well as her raunchy landlady Lillian, wealthy and shallow boss Jacqueline, and effeminate gay roommate Titus. While many other sitcoms recycle similar archetypal characters, Unbreakable notably strays from that formulation, opting to take on a more postmodern approach in which each character is complex and nuanced with regard to their motivations, behaviors and relationships. The portrayal of women in entertainment has changed and been molded by surrounding cultural and social influences. One can use the theories of Virginia Woolf, Christina Hoff Sommers and Judith Butler, writers who have put forth radical challenges to gender societal norms, and postmodernism as lenses through which to interpret the main cast of Unbreakable. Fey writes each of these characters to represent a unique version of post-feminism and together they form an inclusive umbrella of what it means to be a woman. As exemplified and established through the show’s pilot “Kimmy Goes Outside” and later episodes, Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt reveals the complex and nuanced nature of femininity in a generous and thought-provoking manner that allows its viewers to feel liberated in their own gender expression and identity.

Kimmy Schmidt, Angel out of the House

Kimmy’s character serves as a fresh look at the “Angel in the House” woman. This type of woman was introduced and satirized by author Virginia Woolf. In her essay “The Angel in the House,” Woolf discusses the Victorian phantom whose characteristics are marked by quiet servitude, docile domesticity and submissive spousal duties. Woolf claimed that “killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of a woman writer” meaning that this type of woman was not conducive for ambitious women like her who wanted to engage in activities outside of the home (Woolf 3). A somewhat similar motive can be linked to Tina Fey. While Woolf wrote with severe intent, Fey gives Unbreakable a more humorous, lighter tone when addressing the Angel stereotype. Woolf’s descriptors of the Angel including “sympathetic, charming, unselfish [and] pure” can easily be applied to Kimmy (Woolf 3). The Angel is not fully killed by Fey, rather, a compromise between extremes is made and what emerges is a relatable, appealing yet empowering character. For example, after Titus rudely yells at her to get a job, Kimmy doesn’t retaliate but innocently acknowledges that he’s right. Though she is submissive to Titus in this instance, she later works hard through her own merit to gain employment, wanting to provide for herself. Through this example, one sees how Kimmy expresses some virtues of the Angel yet retains a sense of optimism and self-reliance despite adversity, a quality that is both inspiring and empowering to the show’s viewers.

 Unbreakable’s postmodern and hilarious take on escaping the paradigm of gender constructs is grounded in Kimmy’s naive and childlike behavior as she figures out what she wants in her life. This is best typified in one sequence in which Kimmy comes upon a chained carriage horse and eagerly lets it go declaring “You deserve to be free.” The horse can be seen as a symbol of her freedom; however, the viewer obviously knows that the horse had a productive purpose for the carriage and being released will only cause havoc for the owner. Still obeying its higher authority, the horse can make many of its own decisions while bringing joy to others. This seems to reflect the earlier conclusion made that Fey seeks to only partially kill the Angel and that full unbridled freedom is just as much a hazard as no liberty at all.

 While she retains some attributes of the Angel, Kimmy yet rejects the conformity of the home and seeks to create her own future. Kimmy is seen as a victim by everyone, even by the news TV hosts whose last words to her and the other women are “Thank you, victims.” While the rest of the mole woman, as they are dis-affectionately called, quietly return to Durnsville, Kimmy in a moment of bravery hops out of the van and declares “I have to get my life back. Everyone in Durnsville will look at me like a victim but that’s not what I am.” Even though she has no plans for her living and education, Kimmy’s rejection of remaining at home is a signal to the viewer that a female protagonist can leverage her autonomy to control her narrative. Instead of being acted upon, Kimmy as a free agent liberates the Angel archetype. The core idea of making one’s own decisions and feeling empowered to optimistically forge ahead despite social and economic barriers resonates with the viewers because it strikes an innate human desire. A sitcom is the perfect medium to convey this message because unlike a static image, a sitcom with multiple episodes and story arcs allows for character development and thematic explorations in different contexts. Emotions can also be conveyed through a combination of the set design, actor performance, and sound mixing. Ultimately, Unbreakable’s titular character empowers women to blend attributes of domesticity and progressivism to create a new, embolden persona that is familiar as well as intriguingly nuanced.

When examining Kimmy’s new found independence it is important to consider her transition from the bunker to the closet in the apartment. Again, Woolf’s insights are particularly relevant when attempting to prove that Kimmy is now liberated. In her essay entitled, “A Room of One’s Own,” Woolf puts forth the conjecture that a woman needs to have her own space in order to write fiction. Reflecting on all the great female authors before her like Jane Austen and Emily Dickens, Woolf presents the case showing that the common factors between these women are time and space “that they can call their own” to explore their literary and creative passions (Woolf 56). The room, therefore, serves as a prerequisite for a female’s liberation to pursue her own interests. In the bunker, Kimmy was constantly

 surrounded by the other three mole women. She rarely had any opportunity to be alone with her creative thoughts and “suffer[ed] from too rigid a restraint, too absolute a stagnation” (Woolf 58). The Reverend gave her strict rules that regressively imprisoned and diminished her ability to emotionally and intellectually develop. Even though the closet in the apartment is comically small and the sliding door needs repair, it is truly the first space Kimmy can call her own where “there is no gate, no lock, no bolt, that [anyone] can set upon the freedom of [her] mind” (Woolf 63). This  comparison and contrast between the two spaces reinforces Woolf’s conclusions about the necessity of having a personal environment to create. No longer confined to the 1990’s, Kimmy can now “live in the presence of reality” and enjoy “an invigorating life” in which she can make her own decisions (Woolf 92).

Lillian Kaushtupper, Crass with Sass

Representing the collective minds of many women who wish to live out their inner wild desires, Lillian’s character also directly attacks the Angel in the House mentality. Unlike Kimmy, whose passions lead her out of the house, Lillian’s rejection is more of a postmodern critique of the morality and behavior expected of the Angel. Postmodern theory is loosely defined as embracing the questioning the existence and authority of societal norms of morality, behavior, and class structure. The visual aspects of Lillian’s character is in direct opposition of traditional views of expected proper female appearance. She often wears frumpy, dated clothes that drape around her skeleton figure. Her makeup is purposely made to appear gaudy and is further complemented by her iconic, frizzy hair. Her haphazard, old-fashioned display is an outward projection of her inner disorganized, nostalgic self. The writers leverage Carol Kane’s distinct voice and write dialogue for Lillian that communicates ideas that are dirty, sexual, longing for the past and borderline psychotic. For instance, it is revealed to the audience that her husband died from a fatal face shooting. However, Titus points out that it was Lillian herself who shot him. She retaliates by exclaiming “Well it was dark out and a black man was trying to get into bed with me!” Not only is it shocking to hear a seemingly derogatory, racial remark, but the entire situation is so farcical that it takes the edge off of the perceived seriousness of her comment. Viewing her comment through the lens of postmodernism however suggests that there are hidden, unspoken truths related to race relations and sexual consent that Lillian subtlety brings to light and questions.

Under the covers of her dodgy clothes and brash personality, Lillian is a subversive figure whose status hearkens to past feminine, trickster characters like Lucy from “I Love Lucy” and Judy from “What’s Up Doc.” In a comedic sense, she plays the role of the wise fool whose quips and dialogue reveal greater truths for the audience to consider. For example, after Lillian lambasts Titus to pay his rent, he replies that he doesn’t owe anything due to slavery reparations. Of course, this initially seems like a fallacious claim, especially observing that Titus is disingenuously saying that to avoid financial punishment. However, Lillian’s response of an approving head nod and saying “Touché, your people have suffered” is an intriguing remark. While not openly advocating for slavery reparations, Lillian’s response contains a nuanced truth of an actual societal problem of race suffering with which the viewer is encouraged to understand and agree. Lillian demonstrates to the audience that the signifier woman can be inclusive of those who are crass or erratic as well as subversive figures who tell bits of truth in clever and cunning ways.

Jacqueline Voorhees, Materialistic “Mother”

 Jacqueline presents an interesting take on how the brand of mothers are portrayed in sitcoms. Traditionally, as seen in older sitcoms like the Brady Bunch or Leave it to Beaver, the mother figure plays the straight man role. She often provides the reaction of disappointment or anger in the face of absurdity. The glowing example of domesticity, the mother figure allows writers to allow for moments of reason, life lessons or general rest from the comedy. However, Unbreakable shifts this archetype such that Jacqueline is less of a nurturing figure and more of an unapologetically selfish and emotionally deficit individual. For example, after discovering her son was not picked up by the nanny, she doesn’t search for him or tearfully rush into his arms when he returns home, but rather beckons to him declaring that she is “not allowed outside” because she “had a face peel.” She outsources all of her motherly duties to others; Charles the tutor does the boy’s homework and Kimmy takes on the emotional, food and transportation needs, all while Jacqueline keeps herself occupied with her naps, dog massages, and luxurious ventures.

 Twisting the traditional role of the mother by revealing an uglier side of the archetype deconstructs the idea of the perfect mom. Jacqueline’s imperfect depiction generously allows the female audience to feel better about themselves and less pressured in their own motherly roles. No longer does the sitcom inform the female audience of what society expects from them. Rather, Unbreakable provides an entertainment space to question the mother’s function and viability in a family with skepticism and satire.

Relatedly, it is important to consider how Jacqueline's rejection of her ethnic identity and family’s lifestyle parallels the departure of many women from their traditionally held gender roles. It is revealed in later episodes that Jacqueline’s real name is Jackie Lynn and her family is Native American. Growing up in that community in South Dakota, Jacqueline aspired to “just be somebody, like the women on [her] fashion magazine.” The physical and cultural distance Jacqueline has created for herself mirrors aims of post-feminism that encourages the liberation and abandonment of traditional roles and duties assigned by society. There exists a mass migration of women from the last century until today who leave the home to pursue external opportunities like a career, education and alternative lifestyles. Jacqueline enjoys her life and finds initial success in being wealthy and beautiful. While acknowledging Jacqueline's tenacity and initiative, Fey also tampers this enthusiasm slightly. There are instances where it becomes apparent to the viewer that Jacqueline’s departure is naive and disrespectful. For example, in an exchange with her parents, they ask her if she will attend Sundance with them to which she eagerly replies “Sundance? The film festival? I hear Kevin Smith has really outdone himself this year.” Her parents, in dismay, correct her, telling her that they are referring to their traditional Lakota dance festival. It is obvious to the viewer that Jacqueline has no real connection to her culture, but rather rejects her past for a hollow future full of riches and elitism. This negative display of forsaking tradition suggests that a complete rejection of established female roles is not necessarily progressive either. As concluded previously, Unbreakable seeks to find the middle ground between both extremes of complete domesticity and liberation using Jacqueline as a warning against total disownment of one’s past and setting one’s heart upon shallow recognition.

Titus Andromedon, Gay Icon

 Titus challenges the idea that traditional feminine behavior exclusively belongs to the female sex. Regarding post-feminism, theorist Christina Hoff Sommers proposes that two schools of feminism have emerged. The first is called “gender feminism” which Sommers argues “has taken a divisive, gynocentric turn, and the emphasis now is on women as a political class whose interests are at odds with the interests of men” (Sommers 24). Those who espouse this ideology would reject the idea of considering Titus be a facet of feminism because he biologically does not belong. All males are collectively regarded as the oppressive enemy “who seek to hold fast to their patriarchal privileges and powers” (Sommers 24). Conversely, Sommers advocates for a more democratic approach to gender rights and roles. Coined “equity feminism,” this approach does not “have an agenda of managing women's desires and fantasies” but rather advocates for equal rights for each gender, regardless of body function or behavior (Sommers 265). The equity feminist framework is much more liberal by allowing men to be included in its definition of feminism. According to Sommers, Titus, as a biological man, can display culturally feminine characteristics and should still be given equal social and legal consideration as much as any woman without being “condemned as sexist and reactionary” (Sommers 135). One limitation of Sommers’ analysis is that she does not discuss how a homosexual orientation specifically fits within either gender or equity feminist theory. Instead, she focuses more on the dichotomy of male and female. As the definition of feminism expands to include men, one should also pay attention to what behavior and outward gestures indicate femininity.

 Titus’ physical appearance and voice serves as a representation for his inner persona, especially his homosexuality. Beginning with costume, Titus is seen wearing a cardigan on top of an oversized, polyester shirt with a design of multiple salacious close-ups of women's faces and lips. Throughout the rest of the episode his outfits are equally ridiculous and effeminate, traits that follow gay stereotypes. Relatedly, his soft, higher pitched voice also clearly indicates his homosexuality. Continuing on to his interests, he is shown to be a starving artist type who yearns to unleash his acting and musical skills to any audience who can comprehend his supposedly poignant and thought-provoking subject matters. These interests of musical theater performance are typically associated with women, such that if a man demonstrates similar desires, he is assumed to be gay. Titus’ commitment to such acts allows one to question the veracity of this gender-linked assumption.

  Without knowing his gender, one could easily assume that Titus is a woman, based off of his wardrobe, interests and mannerisms because of social constructs surrounding heteronormative females. Judith Butler discusses this phenomenon extensively within her high-het entertainment construct. She proposes that high-het entertainment reinforces the hyperbolic gender norms instead of radically challenging them. Regarding the structure of high-het entertainment, she claims that films that “contain the homosexual excess” are based on the “fear that an apparently heterosexual contact might be made before the discovery of a non-apparent homosexuality” (Butler 339). Essentially drag and perceived homosexuality is only a facade to the norm of heterosexuality. Titus’ character is subversive to Butler’s theory because while he does engage in drag practices, there is no heterosexual identity to be discovered. He readily leans into heteronormative feminine ideals; however, the wrinkle to the high-het claim is the fact that he is not a biological woman. In true postmodern fashion, his character allows one to question the validity of gender normative constructs and demonstrates how a man can exemplify feminine qualities as well. Again, Fey is showing a generous, flexible attitude towards the definition of woman and especially liberates some male viewers of Unbreakable who, like Titus, act or speak in ways that are often deemed belonging to women. One could say that Titus is at the forefront of high-homo entertainment.

Conclusion

After examining the four main cast members of Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt, it is apparent that the show seeks to cleverly subvert the popular myth of what it traditionally means to be a woman. The show problematizes the notion that a woman must adhere to qualities formed by years of social norms and biology. Instead of completely rejecting the traditional structures, Fey builds on it to write characters who encompass a broader definition of woman. The narrative device of the bunker operates to demonstrate the deconstructive elements of extreme, conservative femininity and allows the viewer to join Kimmy on her journey of reconciling her past with a more liberating future. The show’s constant absurdity equally reflects the bizarreness and confusion of the postmodern world, providing the space for post-feminist discussions to occur and be portrayed. Ultimately, Unbreakable doesn’t provide a clear, final answer to the question of a woman’s identity, but rather seeks to emphatically display a wider range of possible females who, as the opening credit song suggests “are strong as hell!”