In 1997, when I was eight years old, “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” premiered. Despite my young age, I was hooked immediately; I watched every episode with my mom, played every “Buffy” video game that was released, and named all of our pets after characters from the show. Just as many in my generation grew up with Harry Potter, I grew up with Buffy Summers. While I don’t think that the word “fandom” had the same cultural cachet then that it does today, “Buffy” was definitely my formative fandom experience. I formed allegiances to the characters, knew the ins and outs of the universe, and obviously had my OTPs on the show (Willow and Tara forever).

More importantly, though, the women of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” were my first feminist role models. Even in a decade during which there was no shortage of strong feminine influences to inspire girls, from the Riot Grrrls of the early 90s to the Girl Power rallying cry the Spice Girls brought to the fore, from Audrey Horne, who gets what she wants to our ambassador of science and skepticism Dana Scully, the women of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” stand out for being good, for being brave, and for being bonafide badasses. The women of the show were powerful. Whether they were confronting the patriarchy via the human authority figures in Sunnydale or via the demons constantly spewing forth from the Hellmouth, these were women with agency. They were funny and heartbreaking, disruptive and vulnerable. They taught me that a girl could be ultra-feminine and still be taken seriously for her mind, for her charisma, and for her strength. Femininity never detracts from the strength of the characters and they are never weaker than or in any way lesser than their male counterparts. If they are underestimated, it is at the peril of the one who does so. Even my favorite character, Cordelia Chase, who is ostensibly the stereotypical “mean girl” character, shows such depth and strength that she ultimately subverts many of the tropes associated with her archetype.

I’ve watched all seven seasons of the series more times than I care to admit (and listened to the soundtrack to “Once More With Feeling” more times than I can even begin to count), and I’ve grown into womanhood carrying the lessons of the series with me. In many ways, I can trace my feminism directly to the series. As a 90s girl, I grew up fully immersed in third wave feminism and “Buffy” was my strongest connection to its tenets at a young age. Every feminist criticism that I write as a student, and every one which I perform less consciously as I consume media, is indebted to getting my start comparing other shows I would watch to “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and generally feeling disappointed. It’s also been, to my delight, surprisingly relevant in the classroom, and I am always happy when a discussion with my classmates turns to “Buffy.”

While adult me recognizes that “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” isn’t perfect, and while there are aspects of the show which must be examined with a critical eye, it is still true, even 13 years after its end, that the show has left an important legacy. Buffy, Willow, Cordelia, Anya, and all the rest of the women on the show are icons for different reasons, yet they are all powerful pop cultural representations of womanhood. The mark they have left on a generation of girls is indelible.