A friend of mine wrote a script, a feminist romantic comedy. She

The words of Gillian Jacobs—“A friend of mine wrote a script, a feminist romantic comedy. She had a feminist scholar consult on it. My friend said, ‘Oh, my friend Gillian read it and really loved it.’ She goes, ‘Gillian Jacobs, you mean: Britta Perry, feminist icon?’”—resound with the strange and wondrous way that art and life intertwine. For in this story we see how the characters we play, the roles we embody, can transcend the boundaries of stage and screen, and take on meaning in the hearts of others. Jacobs is not merely herself in this telling; she becomes also Britta Perry, a symbol, a vessel, an icon whose spirit outlives the fictional world from which she sprang.

The origin of this truth lies in the ancient relationship between myth and humanity. In every age, stories have carried archetypes—heroes, lovers, tricksters, sages—who give voice to the desires and struggles of the people. When an actor embodies such a figure, they carry more than lines and gestures; they carry a mirror in which audiences see themselves. Just as the Greeks looked upon Antigone as a model of defiance and sacrifice, or Odysseus as a figure of cunning endurance, so too do modern audiences see in Britta Perry a reflection of their hopes, their ironies, and their battles for equality.

We recall how Sarah Bernhardt, the great actress of the nineteenth century, embodied Joan of Arc before the French nation. Though Bernhardt herself was but a mortal woman upon the stage, her portrayal awakened something deeper—suddenly, Joan was alive again in the minds of the people, a saint reborn through art. The actress became forever linked with the heroine she played, so much so that audiences could no longer separate one from the other. In this way, Jacobs too finds that her own name is now joined to the feminist icon she portrayed, a bond forged by the power of performance.

Jacobs’s anecdote carries also a note of irony, for Britta Perry, in the world of comedy, was often awkward, mocked, or misunderstood in her zeal. And yet, even this imperfection is part of the icon’s power. For it is not only flawless champions who inspire us—it is those who stumble and falter, but persist nonetheless. The true strength of a feminist vision is not to present invulnerability, but to reveal the courage of imperfection, the will to keep striving even when mocked or underestimated.

The lesson we take from this is clear: our actions and creations may shape our identity in ways we cannot foresee. The roles we play, whether on stage, in our professions, or in the lives of those around us, can transform us into symbols for others. We may think we are only living quietly, only doing our small part, but to someone else we may already be an icon, a living example of persistence, of truth, of courage.

Practically, this means we must walk with mindfulness. Live and act as though your deeds may outlast you, for they will. If you take up a cause, embrace it sincerely, even if you falter, for others may remember not your stumbles but your striving. If you inhabit a role—whether in art, in family, or in society—do it with heart, for someone unseen may be drawing strength from your example. To embody something larger than yourself is both a burden and a gift, but it is also the path to legacy.

Thus Jacobs’s reflection becomes a teaching for future generations: the boundary between the self and the story is porous. We are all, in some way, actors on the stage of life, carrying symbols and meanings beyond what we can know. Embrace this mystery, and let your words and actions reflect the values you would wish to endure. For who knows—someday, you too may be remembered not only by your name, but as an icon of the spirit you embodied.

And so, let this truth be passed on: never underestimate the power of your presence, for in living, you are always telling a story. And perhaps, like Jacobs with Britta Perry, you may find yourself woven into the greater tale of humanity—not just as yourself, but as a symbol of what you dared to represent.