Garbagehead Doo-Doo Face: The Evolution of Parks & Rec's Leslie Knope
EntertainmentWithin the first five minutes of “2017,” the premiere of the seventh and final season of NBC’s Parks and Recreation, Leslie Knope (Amy Poehler) has already called someone a, “stupid garbagehead doo-doo face.” Hyperbole is Knope’s bellwether; the gesture is a marked indicator that the writers of Parks and Rec fully understand that even when a person matures and advances in her life, her essential core stays the same.
At the show’s start, Poehler’s Knope is sprightly, albeit totally lost about anything in her life other than her career. Through the previous six season, viewers have watched her blossom from a lovelorn hoarder in a mid-level government position in the small town of Pawnee, Indiana to a woman who is confident in love, married (to character Ben Wyatt, played by Adam Scott) with three children and the head of the midwest chapter of the National Parks Department. The journey that Leslie takes through the first six seasons of Parks shirks a lot of the tropes we come to expect from feminist characters on sitcoms—yes, she’s scrappy, but she doesn’t come adorned with lettuce in her hair like 30 Rock‘s Liz Lemon, nor does she submit to the Cool Girl Fantasy like How I Met Your Mother‘s Robin Scherbatsky, even though Leslie is one of the most aggressive careerists on basic cable since Murphy Brown. She is sweet, she cares deeply for the people she works with and focuses extra attention to bolster her female friends and colleagues. And unlike Lemon and Scherbatsky, Leslie is unafraid of her own vulnerability—and that’s what gives her power. She doesn’t fear risk because she believes in doing the right thing, even if that means it’s not the safe thing.
But Leslie is always effusive, whether it’s how she compliments her best friend Ann Perkins (Rashida Jones) or her persistence toward perfection in a job she loves more than any person has ever loved one. What makes the show truly impressive, however, is how the show depicts Leslie’s—and, frankly, almost every character’s—growth over the eight years the show takes place. Here, we’ll mark each of Knope’s biggest triumphs (or, in some cases, failures) per season.
Season 1
The first season of Parks and Rec was too short to find its sweet spot. It did, however, portend the Leslie of the next five seasons. We were introduced to her insecurities about her mother Marlene Griggs-Knope, a high-ranking governmental official in the Pawnee Education Department, and, perhaps, more importantly to Leslie’s boundless affection for former lover city planner Mark Brendanawicz. While most of the season tracks her developing friendship with Ann—the two first meet at a town meeting where Ann goes to complain about Lot 48, a pit in her backyard that her boyfriend Andy Dwyer fell into—and Leslie’s strident work to get the pit filled, but this is not her biggest victory. In the finale, Leslie curbs her lust for Mark, who she won’t sleep with because he’s drunk. It’s the first indication that Leslie knows how to redirect her manic energy into her political priorities and that she is slowly starting to fine tune her self-confidence.
Season 2
Leslie’s labors in love improve considerably in season two—and so does the show. She has a short relationship with Pawnee Police Department doofus Dave Sanderson, played adorably by Louis C.K., dates Ann’s asshole co-worker Chris (played by Poehler’s then-husband Will Arnett) and has a short tryst with Indianapolis hotshot lawyer Justin (Justin Theroux). Whether it was the writers’ intention to let Leslie’s romantic confidence bolster her own sense of self-worth is unknown, but there are moments in season two where the Leslie’s overt perkiness and blind (if frustrated) faith in Pawnee start to fade. When Ron Swanson, the libertarian, anti-government head of the Parks Department, is given the honor of Dorothy Everton Symthe Woman of the Year, Leslie is forced to navigate disappointment in a town she adores, and explore what to do when feminism fails you. Parks & Rec is unafraid to let Leslie lose without wrapping it in a happy ending bow at the end of 22 minutes. The allowance for failure that sticks is what helped to develop Leslie’s rich character. Bonus points for giving us Galentine’s Day and the phrase “wiz palace.”
Season 3