Wednesday Addams Has Me in a Chokehold and I'm Not Even Mad About It

So I did something kind of embarrassing last night. I was supposed to be working on my presentation for tomorrow's meeting, but instead I ended up watching Wednesday Addams compilation videos on YouTube until like 3am.

Don't judge me.

It started because my neighbor's kid was having another one of those screaming tantrums where the parents just... do nothing? And I'm sitting there thinking "God, Wednesday would have shut that down in two seconds flat" and next thing I know I'm spiraling down this whole rabbit hole of clips and edits and now my algorithm thinks I'm obsessed with goth aesthetics.

Which, fair.

But seriously, there's something about that girl that just hits different. Like when she looks directly at the camera and delivers some absolutely brutal line about human nature? Chef's kiss. Pure perfection. Makes me want to practice my death stare in the mirror.

My roommate caught me doing exactly that this morning and was like "what the hell are you doing" and I had to explain that I was channeling my inner Wednesday energy for dealing with my boss today. She just shook her head and made her coffee but I swear I saw her smirking.

Why Do I Feel So Seen By A Fictional Teenager Like Wednesday Addams

Okay so this is gonna sound weird but bear with me. Last week I was at this work thing - you know, one of those "team building" happy hours that nobody actually wants to attend but you go anyway because saying no feels like career suicide.

And this guy Derek from accounting starts going on about how we all need to "bring more positive energy to the workplace" and "manifest abundance" or whatever self-help book he clearly just finished. The whole time I'm nodding and smiling like you're supposed to but inside I'm just screaming.

That's when it hit me. Wednesday would never sit through Derek's toxic positivity speech. She'd probably look him dead in the eye and say something like "Your relentless optimism is exhausting and statistically improbable" and somehow make it sound like the most reasonable thing in the world.

And I realized - that's what I want to do. Not be mean or cruel, but just... honest? Like when people ask "how was your weekend" they don't actually want to hear that you spent Saturday reorganizing your spice rack because you're avoiding dealing with your emotions. But what if we could just... say that?

Wednesday doesn't do small talk. She doesn't pretend things are fine when they're obviously not. There's something weirdly comforting about watching someone refuse to participate in all the little lies we tell each other every day.

The Other Women Who Get It

Your weekend binge guide until the Wednesday season 2 part 2 premiere on the 3rd of September

Since we're all waiting forever for more Wednesday content , I've been binge-watching other shows with women who don't take anyone's crap. It's become my new hobby slash coping mechanism.

Jessica Jones hit me right in the feelings

I started watching this show during probably the worst period of my life. Like, everything was falling apart - academics sucked, clueless on future, family traumas that needed a shrink, which I couldn't afford. Classic rock bottom stuff.

My friends kept sending me these inspirational Instagram posts about "turning your pain into power" and "finding the lesson in every struggle", and honestly? It made me want to throw my phone at the wall.

Then I discovered Jessica Jones, and it was like finding water in the desert. Here's this woman who's been through absolute hell, and she's not trying to make it pretty or meaningful. She's just surviving, one sarcastic comment at a time. She drinks too much and makes terrible decisions, and calls people on their bullshit, and somehow it felt more honest than all those wellness guru posts combined.

There's this scene where someone tells her she should "process her trauma in a healthy way" and she just... laughs. Not because trauma is funny, but because the idea that healing has to look a certain way is ridiculous. Sometimes healing looks like telling your therapist exactly what you think about their stupid suggestions. Sometimes it looks like solving other people's problems because you can't fix your own.

Velma Dinkley Got a Glow-Up

HBO Max's Velma is not your Saturday morning cartoon, and thank God for that. This version takes everything that made the original Velma smart and gives her permission to actually call people out on their nonsense.

This Velma uses her brain like a weapon, dissecting everything from academic pretension to social media performance with surgical precision. For anyone who's ever felt like being the smartest person in the room made them an outsider, Velma is validation.

She's proof that intelligence doesn't have to be quiet or polite. Sometimes the smartest thing you can do is point out that the emperor has no clothes.

Kim Possible and Shego: The Perfect Dynamic Duo

Look, Kim Possible is great and all, but can we talk about Shego for a second? Because she absolutely steals every scene she's in. The dynamic between Kim's relentless optimism and Shego's complete refusal to take anything seriously is comedy gold.

Shego's appeal is that she's completely authentic in her own villainous way. She doesn't care what anyone thinks, she's incredibly good at what she does, and she finds the whole hero-villain thing as ridiculous as we do. Their banter is proof that sometimes the best relationships are built on mutual respect and really excellent timing.

April Ludgate taught me that weird is actually cool

Parks and Recreation's April changed my whole perspective on being strange. Like, she says the most random stuff and has zero filter, and instead of everyone thinking she's crazy, they think she's fascinating.

I used to apologize for everything about myself. "Sorry, I know it's weird that I collect vintage medical books." "I know true crime podcasts aren't everyone's thing." "Sorry for making another dark joke about death."

But April never apologizes for being herself. She likes taxidermy and horror movies and making people uncomfortable with overly personal information, and somehow it works for her. The right people love her because of her weirdness, not despite it.

Fleabag broke every rule I thought existed

I watched Fleabag right after finding out my friend got diagnosed with cancer, and everyone was being so careful around me. Like walking on eggshells, talking in these hushed tones about "staying positive" and "fighting this together."

People kept saying things like "everything happens for a reason" and "she's so strong, she'll beat this" and I just wanted to scream. Because sometimes terrible things happen for no reason at all and pretending there's some cosmic plan is honestly insulting.

Then I discovered Fleabag and she's dealing with death too, but she's not making it pretty or inspirational. She's making inappropriate jokes and screwing up relationships and talking directly to the camera about how messy and complicated everything is.

Watching her navigate grief with humor and honesty instead of gratitude and acceptance felt like permission to stop pretending I was handling everything perfectly. Sometimes supporting someone through illness looks like laughing at dark jokes together. Sometimes it looks like getting drunk and crying about how unfair everything is. Sometimes it looks like admitting that you have no idea what to say or do to help.

Veronica Mars is Nancy Drew's cooler older sister

Veronica Mars took everything I thought I knew about teen mysteries and threw it in the trash. This girl has seen some stuff - real trauma, not just typical high school drama - and she uses sarcasm like armor.

What gets me about Veronica is that she's cynical and hopeful at the same time, which feels very real to me. Like, she knows the world is unfair and people are terrible, but she still fights for justice because someone has to. Her sarcasm isn't mean-spirited, it's protective.

I relate hard to that combination of "people are disappointing" and "but we still have to try to make things better." It's exhausting but somehow necessary.

Also, if you're into the whole female detective thing, there's this really good piece about Unravelling Mysteries: The Evolving Portraits of Female Detectives in Crime Fiction. Worth reading if you want to go down that rabbit hole.

What I Actually Learned From All This

Here's the thing I figured out after way too many hours of analyzing fictional women: we're living in this weird time where everyone's supposed to be optimized and grateful and mindful about everything. Every problem has a solution if you just manifest hard enough. Every emotion needs to be processed and turned into personal growth.

These characters look at that whole system and basically say, "nah, sometimes things just suck and there's no deeper meaning." Sometimes the most honest response to absurdity is pointing out that it's absurd.

My therapist calls this "radical honesty", which sounds very fancy but really just means saying what you actually think instead of what you're supposed to think.

Like when my coworker asks how my weekend was, instead of saying "great!" maybe I could say "I spent most of it avoiding adult responsibilities by reorganizing my bookshelf by color, which was oddly therapeutic but probably not what you meant."

Obviously, I don't actually do this because I'm not brave enough yet, but watching these women be authentically themselves makes me think maybe I could try it sometimes.

Why This All Matters (And It's Not Just About TV)

I used to think I just liked these characters because they were funny or relatable. But honestly? I think it's because they represent this kind of authenticity that feels revolutionary.

When Wednesday refuses to participate in school spirit activities, she's not being difficult - she's refusing to perform enthusiasm she doesn't feel. When Jessica Jones calls someone out for their nonsense, she's not being mean - she's refusing to do emotional labor for people who haven't earned it.

These women take up space with their words instead of making themselves smaller to keep everyone else comfortable. They say what they mean instead of what's expected. In a world that constantly asks women to be pleasant and agreeable and accommodating, watching characters who refuse to play that game feels like rebellion.

So while we're all counting down the days until Wednesday comes back to validate our collective urge to roll our eyes at humanity, maybe we can practice being a little more honest ourselves. Not brutal or unnecessarily harsh, but real. Genuine. Willing to call things what they are instead of what we're supposed to pretend they are.

Because honestly, the world could use more people brave enough to point out when the emperor is walking around naked. Even if we do it with perfect comedic timing.

Want more stories about complicated, fascinating women who don't play by the rules? Check out Lipstick and Gunpowder, Wingless Dreamer's collection about femme fatales, toxic relationships, and the kind of beauty that destroys you. Think of it as the literary equivalent of your favorite Netflix obsession, but with better character development.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Sushravya Shetty

Born in Mumbai and raised across India’s cultural and cosmopolitan cities, Sushravya Shetty is a writer, Bharatanatyam dancer, and biotechnologist with a deep reverence for expression, discipline, and emotional nuance. A lifelong lover of language, she has contributed to editorial boards, corporate newsletters, and a wide range of freelance projects across creative and technical domains. Her writing blends research-driven clarity with poetic introspection, often infused with metaphor and cultural sensibility.