I was pretty young when “Gilmore Girls” debuted on The WB, and I was just a young teenager when it aired its last episode in 2007. It also aired on Tuesday nights when I was usually too busy with homework or ballet lessons to care much about TV at all (The irony is that I, a woman who wants to grow up and talk about TV’s relationship to literature, didn’t have any time for TV until I was about eighteen.). But when I did see “Gilmore Girls,” I noticed a few things. One, Lorelai Gilmore (Lauren Graham) had the worst wardrobe on television. No one actually dressed like that in the early twenty-first century.

Two, there were no better men than Luke Danes (Scott Patterson). Who else builds the woman he loves a chuppah for her wedding to someone else?

And three, I didn’t understand my contemporaries who wanted to grow up and be just like Rory Gilmore (Alexis Bledel). No, when it came to the halls of Chilton Academy and the dorms at Yale, the student I wanted to be was Paris Geller (Liza Weil).

Let me explain. Rory Gilmore’s a fine character. She talks fast, she’s over-caffeinated, we have similar complexions, and I think she would understand all of my jokes. But being Rory just wouldn’t be any fun. Most of the time (ignoring infamous Season Four finale, “Raincoats and Recipes,” and one pretty important subplot of the November 2016 revival series), Rory is expected to be perfect. And not only is she expected to be perfect, she is perfect. She’s named valedictorian at Chilton, she is accepted to all three of the Ivy League schools she applied to in her senior year, and all the boys she ever meets fall madly in love with her (except for the guy in the Laundromat, but if I can’t remember his name, does he really count?). With the snap of her fingers and a demure smile, Rory gets exactly what she wants. Her will is almost always done. It’s eerie.

I’ve written a lot about the angel in the house, and it’s pretty safe to say that Rory Gilmore is the academic example of that archetype. Rory never exists for herself, but she does exist as her grandparents’, Emily and Richard (Kelly Bishop and the late Edward Hermann, respectively), surrogate daughter. She exists to be her own mother’s vicarious vessel. She even exists to introduce her long-time best friend, Lane Kim (Keiko Agena), to popular culture and fried food. People want to like Rory. People DO like Rory. Cartoon birds probably DO braid her hair when she wakes up in the morning because she’s nice. And that’s really all that nice is. It’s nice.

Nice is a prison. Nice presents no challenges and in fact, rejects them on principle. You know who isn’t nice? Paris Geller.

Paris Geller is a complex, contradictory mess of a female character. She rebels against traditional codes of femininity with every move she makes, but she has no issue adhering to them if it’s what will make her happy. She’s loud, brash, and she scares the salt-and-vinegar chips out of everyone she meets. And that’s why I want to be Paris. Paris is allowed to be a person. I want to be allowed to be a person.

I am reminded of a season-three episode of “Gilmore Girls” in which Rory and Paris are both selected to give a celebratory speech about Chilton, which is somehow worthy enough to be broadcast on C-SPAN? Only in Amy Sherman-Palladino’s world, I guess. Paris, who is always prepared to win and to look and sound her best, shows up late to the event. Her hair is disheveled, and she wears an oversized pink sweater and blue jeans. Instead of delivering the eloquent speech she had already prepared, she announces (again, on C-freakin’-SPAN) that she wasn’t accepted to Harvard.

Paris Geller, the character who loses at nothing, wasn’t accepted to the school of her dreams. And she confessed to her failure… on C-SPAN.

I had never loved her more.

While most of the scene was monstrously unrealistic (Have I mentioned a high school speech was broadcast on cable television?), I couldn’t get enough of the messy and imperfect Paris. Admittedly, the ambitious, don’t-let-them-see-you-cry-or-even-blink version of Paris is inherently complex, but this was a whole new level of complexity in a female character. Paris has an emotional breakdown, and she doesn’t look pretty while doing it. Her wardrobe and tone of voice perfectly match the anguish and regret she feels.

That never would have happened for Rory. Rory would have sighed a bunch of times and then bargained with the likes of fate, à la her self-punishing after missing Lorelai’s business school graduation at the end of Season Two. She also would have kept her perfectly porcelain complexion, a level voice, and her hair would have looked “Vogue”-ready. Where’s the realism in that? What message does that send to the impressionable (and heavily female) audience of “Gilmore Girls?” It isn’t the most fair or realistic one, that’s for sure.

Paris Geller is not everybody’s favorite crayon in the 64-pack. She has no concept of a chill pill. But that’s what I love about her—that’s why I wanted to be her. Paris doesn’t need for people to like her. She wants what she wants, and she will work her fingers to the bone to attain her goals. Unlike Rory (The narrative seems to just hand accomplishments to Rory without actually spending much time on her efforts.), we see Paris fight for everything she gets. She doesn’t receive. She earns. If there’s one character who taught me what a strong work ethic is, it’s her.

But Paris also challenges the idea that a woman has to be even-tempered and affable. She’s choleric without being hysterical. As opposed to fighting her demanding impulses because society says she should, Paris Geller just demands. She doesn’t operate in the androcentric schema of temperaments. She exists to teach women and girls that they should ask for what they want. Nice is a prison. Not nice is a challenge, and a challenge is where the fun is.

I wanted to be Paris Geller not only because I wanted to be a winner, but also, because I wanted to be a strong human being.