The new television drama, "Ally McBeal," has created quite a buzz in various circles. College students love the zany ways of the protagonist, Ally, as she attempts to maintain a professional demeanor at the law firm founded by her money-hungry HLS colleague, Fish, and where her long-time, recently married ex-boyfriend--who left her for Michigan Law (after awhile, we cease questioning this point)--also works. The script is hilarious, including countless witty repartees. Most importantly, the show employs the creative device of acting out Ally's inner thoughts to great comic effect.

The critics have also taken notice of Ally, but perhaps for the wrong reason. A November issue of Time described the show in the following manner: "Smart yet also emotional, Ally represents the modern female trying to remain true to herself in a harsh male world."

Steven Stark, in an essay from the December issue of The New Republic, also framed his analysis of the show in terms of gender, but was not as kind. He explains how the show has spawned numerous debates, including a discussion of "Whether Ally herself... is a betrayal of just about everything the Women's movement was once trying to achieve." Stark argues that "Ally McBeal's contempt for women is about as loathsome as TV gets." On the other hand, he praises the show, noting that it is a drama about a working woman's life, a rarity in prime-time history.

But wait a minute. Is this how most fans view the show? Were we drawn into Ally's world and inner thoughts because we consciously or subconsciously supported what she stood for as a '90s career woman on the move? Did we initially say "Hey, it's Monday night, let's check out that new feminist show?" Did we scorn all the imperfections in Ally's character because we believed that in some way they detracted from her professional accomplishments or what she stood for as a lawyer?

No, of course not. In fact, it is precisely these "flaws" as the critics call them (such as her habit of wigging out over small things, or complaining about her hair to Billy, her ex) that endear her to us. In fact, it is these small idiosyncrasies that make us identify with her and compel us to keep coming back for more. Without them, she might very well stand as a more ideal role model for young women. But would we identify or empathize with a paragon of social and professional virtue and excellence? No, probably not.

The saddest thing about these labels that people give "Ally McBeal" is that the turn off potential viewers. Let's be honest: if a new show is commonly referred to as a "chick show" how many men would be interested? The show would have much more appeal if audiences and critics alike simply called it what it is, a hilarious new drama. Wouldn't you be more interested in a show labeled as such?

An even more important question to ask is why issue such as these usually end up devolving into gender debates. While I identify myself as a feminist (in that I support the equal treatment of men and women), I can do without the constant debate on whether or not Ally represents the product of recent successes in the struggle for gender equality. Sure, I may laugh at her silly ways, but I don't respect her silly ways, but I don't respect her character any less for it. If I did, I would also have to denounce other TV shows which in any way deprecate what I envision as a role model for women.

Could the same standard be held up for men? Would men feel the obligation to denounce any show in which the male characters acted inanely of showed some weakness? Would men categorically denounce Seinfeld because Kramer is a little "off" or Frasier because he appears a bit effeminate at times? Nope, not a chance.

So why can't we just all enjoy "All McBeal", and think of it as a funny new drama which happens to feature a young, attractive working woman? Let's not submit ourselves to the onslaught of genderization that continues to consume us. Ally is funny, and that's why we like her. And that's all there is to it.

Audrey J. Lee '99 is a government concentrator and a resident of Adams House.