'I'm finally watching Gilmore Girls. I love it, but there's one thing that hits too close to home.'

When Gilmore Girls first aired in 2000, the world fell head over heels for the witty banter and seemingly perfect mother-daughter relationship between Lorelai and Rory Gilmore. Twenty-five years later, as fans celebrate the show's anniversary with rewatches and nostalgic social media posts, I finally decided to see what all the fuss was about. 

What I discovered wasn't just fast-talking charm and coffee addiction — it was a relationship that made my stomach churn with recognition. 

Don't get me wrong — I love the show so much, and I absolutely buy into the hype. There's plenty to love about Lorelai and Rory's bond. Their friendship, their communication, their shared dreams, their fierce loyalty to each other. But watching as an adult — particularly one who grew up alongside a parentified sibling — I couldn't ignore what was hiding beneath all that quirky dialogue.

Rory Gilmore is a textbook parentified child, and there's no way to sugarcoat that. I have no doubt that this dynamic was deliberate in the writing — it's what makes the show so genius, but it's something that's seldom talked about when it comes to Girlmore Girls discussions. 

In fact, Rory gets a lot of flack online for her behaviour. But if you've seen this dynamic play out in real life, you know exactly why she is the way she is.

Watch: The Gilmore Girls intro. Article continues after video.

Parentification occurs when a child is forced to take on adult responsibilities and emotional burdens that should be handled by parents. It's often subtle, wrapped up in praise for being "mature" or "responsible". Still, the psychological impact can be lasting.

From the very first episode, we see Rory functioning as Lorelai's emotional support system. She's the voice of reason when Lorelai makes impulsive decisions, the mediator in family conflicts, and often the more mature party in their relationship.

When Lorelai started dating Rory's teacher in the first season of the show — despite continuously claiming that for Rory's sake, she wouldn't — we see a perfect example of how parentified children learn to suppress their own needs.

Lorelai repeatedly insists that she's putting Rory first, and makes dramatic declarations about how she'll sacrifice her own happiness to avoid creating any awkwardness for her daughter. But when push comes to shove, she pursues the relationship anyway, which leaves Rory to navigate the uncomfortable reality of her teacher becoming her mum's boyfriend. It's Rory who ends up managing the situation with grace and maturity, as she reassures Lorelai that it's fine. But should any teenager have to be okay with that? 

When Lorelai struggles with romantic relationships, Rory's the one who's there to provide counsel that no 16-year-old should have to give.

Image: Warner Bros. Television.

The show frames this as beautiful. 'Look how close they are! Look how Rory can talk to her mum about anything!' But what we're actually watching is a teenager carrying emotional weight that isn't hers to bear.

Rory's entire identity becomes wrapped up in being what Lorelai needs her to be. She's the studious, well-behaved daughter who will achieve all the dreams Lorelai had to abandon. The pressure is immense, even if it's delivered with love and coffee.

As the series progresses, we start to see cracks emerge in their dynamic. Rory struggles with finding direction, has difficulty handling criticism, and has a tendency to shut down when she can't be "perfect". These aren't character flaws; they're the natural consequences of a childhood spent managing someone else's emotional needs.

As someone who watched an older sibling navigate similar territory — taking on responsibilities that weren't theirs, becoming an emotional caretaker at times, sacrificing their own needs to fulfil the needs of others — the Gilmore Girls relationship hits differently.

Even as adults, parentified children often struggle to set healthy boundaries, have difficulty accepting failure, and find it challenging to define their identity outside of caretaking and service roles. It's no wonder there's such a phenomenon around older siblings and service jobs (my sister became a doctor. Surprise, surprise). 

Sound familiar? These patterns play out repeatedly in Rory's storylines, particularly in her romantic relationships and career struggles.

Image: Warner Bros. Television.

This isn't about cancelling Gilmore Girls, dismissing the genuine love between Lorelai and Rory or undermining how fantastic the show is overall. 

It's about recognising that even well-intentioned parents — the ones who get it right 90 per cent of the time — can still create unhealthy dynamics.

For those who see themselves or their siblings in Rory's story, there's validation in naming what they experienced. For parents, there's an opportunity to examine our own relationships with our children, and to ensure we're not unconsciously placing adult burdens on young shoulders.

As Gilmore Girls celebrates its 25th anniversary, perhaps it's time we had a more nuanced conversation about what made that relationship so compelling — and yes, somewhat problematic. Sometimes the most beautiful relationships on screen are the ones that would benefit from a good therapist in real life.

The coffee addiction, though? That part's probably fine.

Feature Image: Warner Bros. Television.