The 25 Greatest Characters of the Last 20 Years
15. Liz Lemon- 30 Rock

Many of the characters on this list have been extraordinary or atypical. For example, love him or hate him, you will at least remember George Costanza. But if I were to describe Liz Lemon to a person unfamiliar with her, she would sound quite average. She’s an over-educated, white-collar woman who worries about things that are beyond her control.  While her political and religious views are vague, she is zealous about Star Wars and cupcakes. She cannot only sense White Privilege; she can define it.

Fey has endowed her most well-known character (her most well-known character other than Sarah Palin, that is) with all the traits of the modern feminist. Or, as Jack Donaghy, her boss on the show, puts it: a “New York third-wave feminist, college-educated, single-and-pretending-to-be-happy-about-it, over-scheduled, undersexed, you buy any magazine that says ‘healthy body image’ on the cover and every two years you take up knitting for…a week.”

And that ridiculously detailed—but accurate—description of the character is in the first episode. From then on, Lemon has been shaped with tiny brushstrokes that add more and more specific details to what might seem like a stereotype. And the more specific the show gets—her sexual inhibitions stem from a rollerskating accident?—the more the viewer becomes attached and attracted to her.

Lemon stands in for women not in a monolithic, Mary Tyler Moore way, but in a specific, internalized way. She is a nurturing problem solver in a world defined by unpredictable chaos. She is modest and self-conscious in the ways that the Jenna and Cerie characters are not. She self-medicates with chocolate. As frenzied as she feels, as absurd as her backstory gets, she presents a composed, stalwart figure.

In fact, Donaghy’s description and my own beg the question: Is Liz Lemon an accurate portrayal of single, liberal-leaning, yuppie femininity, or is she a stereotype of it? Is something that categorical already a stereotype of itself?

And if Liz Lemon, head writer on a successful live comedy show, is really a heightened fictional version of Fey herself, ever the reluctant poster girl woman person for feminism, how seriously are we supposed to take that comedy? For example, is Mean Girls, which Fey wrote, about how all women, no matter which social constructs are inhibiting them, need to overcome the superficiality and pettiness that cloak them in a perceived inequality? Or is it about how dumb those skinny bitches are?

The answer to those questions is not readily apparent, and that’s what makes Fey/Lemon so fascinating. At every step of the way, they both transcend and cement traditional gender roles.

Fey has been celebrated as the first female head writer of Saturday Night Live, which is a huge accomplishment. But what does it say about us that we have to constantly cast that as a huge accomplishment? Everyone on 30 Rock pretends that Fey and her alter-ego are frumpy, while Fey is actually fairly pretty—and even in 2011 it’s still questionable whether or not she could star on a network comedy if she wasn’t. And Fey perfectly articulates the liberating loneliness of a woman’s single thirties, but in real life she’s married with kids, living the antiquated home-ec dream.

Similarly, part of what makes Liz Lemon so captivating is that she knows exactly who she is, even if she isn’t comfortable with it, and she presents a version of herself that is strong and resolute, only to have that stance backfire on her. Although she has her dream job, she secretly wants a husband and children. And who does she confess many of these weaknesses to? Her big, strong alpha-male boss, who validates them with a wink and a smile.

Fey and Lemon represent all the triumphs and failings of the feminist school of thought at the same time, even when they don’t mean to. They are women, hear them roar. Then hear them say something sheepish and retreat.

Of course none of that theory would matter if they weren’t completely likable and interesting in the first place. Substituting “blerg” for curse words, bugging her eyes out with “I want to go to there” enthusiasm, and hoisting herself by her own petard, Liz Lemon is simply a fun person to spend twenty-two minutes with, no matter how she has been biologically- or socially-constructed.

I mentioned at the top that Fey is also famous for lampooning Sarah Palin. Besides the obvious resemblance, she has mastered the former governor’s paper-thin bravado, generalized entitlement, and homespun malapropisms. Rooted at most successful impersonations is a form of contempt for the subject, and it’s obvious that Fey’s and Palin’s beliefs are at odds with each other. However, those two powerful ladies probably have more in common than they think. Most of Palin’s supporters decry elitists, and they don’t cherish her because she is exceptional in any way. Instead, over and over, they claim, “She’s a lot like me.” Maybe Liz Lemon’s got something there.