Be Still, My Glowing Heart: One Last Love Letter to ‘Jane the Virgin’

“Well, who’d wanna watch that?”

We did. And we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Have you ever loved something so deeply it was almost impossible to talk about? That’s how I feel about Jane the Virgin, The CW’s twist on a telenovela that entered my life as a sacred weekly ritual with my best friend, evolved to a bonding binge-watch with my mother, and, after last night, left me (and television) changed forever. I’ve written about Jane a lot over the years; about its spiritual kinship with Buffy the Vampire Slayer, its nuanced depictions of sexuality and consent, its place among the best television of 2018. But writing about the series now feels different, perhaps because it’s the end of a chapter, a farewell to a story and characters that I’ve held so close to my heart these past few years. I’ve cried more watching Jane‘s final episodes (well, let’s be honest – pretty much every episode for the last five years) than I’d like to admit, and not just because I’ve been so emotionally invested in the series, but because of what it has meant to me and its audience and for television as a whole. Jane the Virgin has earned its spot in the “Peak TV” ranks – and it’s done so by subverting expectations and telling a story straight from the heart for every single one of its 100 installments.

When Jane the Virgin premiered in 2014, it seemed an unlikely contender for the best show on television. A CW comedy about a Catholic virgin who is accidentally artificially inseminated? The premise didn’t exactly scream “prestige TV”. The series quickly proved, however, that it couldn’t be contained by any one box; it was part comedy, telenovela, romance, drama, murder mystery. Sure, there was an integral love triangle, but there was also a maniacal crime lord on the loose wearing other people’s faces and wreaking havoc throughout Miami and beyond. And that was only the beginning. Jane‘s inaugural season had its admirers, and its leading lady and breakthrough star, Gina Rodriguez, took home the Golden Globe for Best Actress in a Comedy in 2015. “My father used to tell me to say every morning that ‘today is going to be a great day. I can and I will’,” Rodriguez said tearfully, accepting the award. “Well, Dad, today’s a great day. I can and I did.”

Jane may not have continued to receive all the awards attention it deserved for the rest of its run, but it didn’t matter. Much like Rodriguez’s memorable acceptance speech, the series never stopped believing it could and it would. Showrunner Jennie Snyder Urman created something truly magical, a world where people could grow and hearts could (literally) glow and life was full of all the ups and downs that we knew to be true. A colorful Miami rich with culture and alive with the dreams of each of its characters. A series unafraid to tackle every single tough subject under the sun; from abortion, sexuality, grief, and loss to religion, racism, immigration issues, trauma, and mental health, Jane has never shied away from telling the truth about humanity. And through all of Jane‘s jaw-dropping plot twists and unbelievable reveals, love has always been a constant. There isn’t a moment in the show’s five seasons that doesn’t feel borne of love.

In other series, characters like Petra (Yael Grobglas) are often relegated to the bitchy role they first appear in, but not in Urman’s world. Petra, initially so easy to loathe, sneakily becomes one of Jane‘s best characters. She makes herself a part of this unconventional family, never quite losing her hardened exterior, but certainly learning to let us in on the soft, mushy heart living underneath. Every character on the show has evolved in someway, whether in their beliefs (Abuela’s thoughts about sex), general persona (hello, reformed playboy Rafael), or bad habits (judgmental Jane and unlucky-in-love Luisa eventually learn how to let these things go… to a certain degree). Many other storytellers would have forced us to see Rafael (Justin Baldoni) and Michael (Brett Dier) in black-and-white. They would have wanted us to fully hate one and love the other, to make a firm choice for Jane and stick by it. It’s never that easy, though, and that’s the beauty of it. It’s an impossible love triangle, one that evidently works itself out through a series of twists and turns by the end (not to every fan’s satisfaction, but certainly resolved adequately in Jane’s world), but not because one man is “good” and the other is “bad”. Whether you’re #TeamMichael or #TeamRafael, it’s hard to be discontent with Jane’s happiness. And it’s hard to deny destiny, a theme Jane has been dedicated to from the very beginning.

It was destiny that Jane’s mother Xiomara (Andrea Navedo) became pregnant as a teenager, so that the three Villanueva women lived under one roof for so long, shared so many tears and laughs on that bench, served as Jane‘s beating heart. Destiny that Jane was inseminated with Rafael’s sperm, destiny that she inadvertently started a family with the man she was always supposed to spend the rest of her life with. And that’s not to say this invalidates her relationship with Michael whatsoever – as much as it hurts, Jane perfectly captures the painful reality of losing the person you once loved the most and learning how to move on – even if they’re not *actually* gone. There are so many stories that take place in other worlds that we’re told are “meant to be”, but on Jane the Virgin, destiny is in the mix from the very beginning. We believe, no, we know these things are supposed to happen. Jane always dared to be romantic in this way, to have a heart, to be kind, to indulge in wonder and fate and fantasy in a world that’s turned cold. It’s been bigger than any singular story, always striving to make us feel things in ways we may never have believed possible.

Over the course of its 100 episodes, against all the television odds, Jane the Virgin proved it could. And it did. It was a rare, empathetic gem, a show that never needlessly tried to make its audience ache, never inflicted pain on us when it wasn’t absolutely necessary. There’s a reason this goodbye hits so hard. We’ve grown with these characters, we’ve felt the ups and downs, the victories, the losses, the heart-glowing moments impossible to put into words. We know there’s never quite been anything like it, and possibly never will be again. As we bid farewell to this world and these people, I keep reminding myself that Jane has always been about endings and beginnings, even when we’d rather do anything but accept that it’s over. That’s the thing about magical stories like Jane the Virgin. “They always have an ending,” Abuela tells us. “But it’s a happy one.”

Jade Budowski is a freelance writer with a knack for ruining punchlines and harboring dad-aged celebrity crushes. She is also a member of the Television Critics Association. Follow her on Twitter: @jadebudowski.

Where to Stream Jane the Virgin