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I watched Reba religiously when it originally aired.
I loved Reba McEntire's sarcastic remarks, Van's ridiculous antics, Kyra's perfectly timed insults, and Barbra Jean's ability to walk into a room and drive everybody absolutely crazy.
It was funny. It was warm. And it had enough heart to make you care about a family whose lives had become one enormous mess.
But there's something about the series that has bothered me for years.
Why on earth did the woman whose affair helped destroy Reba's marriage end up becoming her best friend?
I'm serious.
Not somebody she eventually tolerated.
Not someone she learned to coexist with because their children were related.
Her best friend.
Now, I realize this was a sitcom. I understand that the writers needed Reba and Barbra Jean in the same room regularly, because much of the comedy came from their interactions.
And Melissa Peterman was hilarious.
But being funny doesn't make a character's behavior acceptable.
And after six seasons of watching Reba clean up everybody else's messes, I wasn't particularly thrilled that the woman who'd helped create the biggest mess of all was rewarded with a declaration of friendship.
I'm all for forgiveness.
I believe people can change.
But I've reached the age where I have very little patience for the idea that being a good person means allowing everyone who has hurt you to become a permanent fixture in your living room.
Forgiveness is one thing. Making your ex-husband's mistress your best friend is quite another.
And I think Reba blurred that distinction a little too much.
Let's Remember How This Whole Mess Started
Reba premiered on October 5, 2001.
Reba Hart is a Texas mother of three who's trying to hold her family together when her husband of twenty years, Brock, announces that he's leaving her.
For whom?
Barbra Jean.
His considerably younger dental hygienist.
And she's pregnant.
Wonderful.
Apparently, twenty years of marriage, three children, and a woman who helped put him through dental school weren't enough for Brock.
He had to go looking for something else.
And he wasn't even particularly good at handling the consequences.
Now, I want to make something clear from the beginning.
Brock was the married man. He was the one who broke his marriage vows.
I have no intention of putting all the responsibility on Barbra Jean while treating Brock like some helpless idiot who accidentally wandered into an affair.
He made a choice.
A selfish one.
He betrayed his wife, disrupted his family, and created a situation in which Reba had to help her children cope with a divorce she hadn't wanted.
He deserves the lion's share of the criticism.
But Barbra Jean wasn't an innocent bystander in the affair.
She was involved with a married man.
And once she became pregnant, her relationship with Brock became a permanent part of Reba's family circumstances.
That doesn't make Barbra Jean an irredeemable human being.
It doesn't mean she deserves to be mistreated forever.
But it does mean the story began with a very serious betrayal.
And I don't think we should forget that simply because Barbra Jean happens to be funny.
The Laugh Track Didn't Make the Betrayal Disappear
One of the clever things about Reba was the way it found humor in a painful situation.
Reba was furious.
Brock was frequently an idiot.
Barbra Jean was so relentlessly cheerful and intrusive that she could make Reba want to scream simply by appearing in the doorway.
And the insults were terrific.
I laughed.
Believe me, I laughed.
But somewhere along the way, the comedy began to change how the characters were presented.
Barbra Jean became the lovable nuisance.
Brock became the ex-husband who was still hanging around.
And Reba became the sensible woman who was expected to handle everything.
The betrayal remained part of the show's premise, but its emotional weight gradually became less important than the relationships built around it.
Now, I understand that television characters evolve.
A six-season sitcom cannot spend every episode reliving the pilot.
And I wouldn't have wanted Reba to become a bitter woman who spent the rest of the series plotting revenge.
That wouldn't have been enjoyable to watch, either.
But there's a difference between allowing a character to move forward and making the original wrongdoing seem almost charming in retrospect.
A betrayal doesn't become cute just because the people involved eventually learn to make jokes about it.
And that's the distinction I think the series sometimes lost.
Barbra Jean Had an Extraordinary Amount of Nerve
Let's discuss Barbra Jean for a moment.
Because this woman had chutzpah.
And I don't mean the admirable kind.
She becomes involved with Reba's husband.
She marries him after his divorce.
And then she spends years trying to become Reba's closest friend.
She drops by uninvited.
She inserts herself into family conversations.
She expects Reba to listen to her problems.
And when Reba tries to establish some distance, Barbra Jean often behaves as though she's the injured party.
Excuse me?
You married the woman's husband, and now you're upset that she doesn't want you hanging around her kitchen?
What exactly were you expecting?
A welcome basket?
Matching friendship bracelets?
A standing invitation to Sunday dinner?
I realize Barbra Jean is written as a generally good-hearted woman who desperately wants Reba's approval.
And I can appreciate that she isn't deliberately trying to hurt Reba throughout the series.
But wanting someone's friendship doesn't entitle you to it.
Especially when you're part of the reason that person's marriage ended.
If I hurt someone badly, I don't get to demand emotional closeness simply because I've decided we're going to be friends now.
The other person gets a say.
And if she wants to keep her distance, that's her right.
Barbra Jean's persistence was funny on television.
In real life, I suspect it would become exhausting rather quickly.
Even Reba's Credit Wasn't Safe
Remember the first-season episode "When Good Credit Goes Bad"?
Reba is having lunch to celebrate her approaching divorce when she discovers her credit card has been declined.
Why?
Because Brock has allowed Barbra Jean to use the same account, and charges related to their wedding have run up the balance.
Now, there's a lovely development.
Your husband leaves you for another woman.
You have to deal with the divorce.
And then you discover that the happy couple's wedding expenses are affecting your credit.
If that's not adding insult to injury, I don't know what is.
I realize the episode is structured for comedy.
But I think it illustrates a problem the series repeatedly returns to.
Reba is expected to absorb the consequences of other people's decisions.
She didn't choose Brock's affair.
She didn't choose his new marriage.
And she certainly didn't volunteer to help finance the wedding.
Yet somehow, she's the one dealing with another mess.
I don't believe being a good ex-wife means becoming the person who handles every inconvenience created by the man who left you.
And I don't believe being reasonable requires pretending you're not entitled to be angry.
Sometimes anger is the perfectly appropriate response to someone behaving outrageously.
Reba didn't owe Brock and Barbra Jean endless patience simply because she was the most responsible adult in the room.
Brock's Second Marriage Became Reba's Problem, Too
Here's something else that drove me crazy.
After Brock and Barbra Jean married, who did they keep turning to when their relationship became difficult?
Reba.
Of course.
Why wouldn't they?
Apparently, the woman Brock divorced was now supposed to provide marriage counseling for the woman he married.
In "Locked and Loaded," from the sixth season, Brock actually turns to Reba for ideas about how to bring romance back into his marriage with Barbra Jean.
I had to laugh.
Not because I found the situation admirable.
Because the nerve of this man is astonishing.
You leave your wife for another woman, and years later you ask your ex-wife how to make that second marriage more romantic?
Brock, sweetheart, have you considered speaking to the woman you're married to?
Or a professional counselor?
Or practically anybody who wasn't the person you betrayed?
And as the final season progresses, Reba becomes increasingly involved in the problems threatening Brock and Barbra Jean's marriage.
By the time the finale arrives, she's helping them recognize what they mean to each other.
Now, I appreciate that Reba is compassionate.
I appreciate that she doesn't want another family torn apart.
And I understand that Brock and Barbra Jean have a son of their own.
Their marriage matters to the child they share.
But here's where I object.
Why must the person who was betrayed become responsible for protecting the relationship that resulted from the betrayal?
That shouldn't be her job.
Reba can wish them well.
She can cooperate on matters involving the children.
She can encourage them to behave responsibly.
But their marriage is theirs to manage.
And I don't believe they should expect the woman who suffered because of their relationship to become its unpaid maintenance department.
Barbra Jean Wanted Reba All to Herself
There's another episode I think reveals just how strange this friendship became.
In "Reba and the One," Barbra Jean interferes with Reba's dating life.
And toward the end, she admits something rather revealing.
She realizes that she would rather have Reba unhappy and available to her than happy with somebody else.
Now, to Barbra Jean's credit, she recognizes that there's something wrong with feeling that way.
But I want to examine that for a moment.
This is the woman who became involved with Reba's husband.
And now she's struggling with the idea of Reba finding another man because she might lose some of Reba's attention.
That's quite a combination.
Barbra Jean gets to build a life with Brock.
But Reba finding happiness with someone else is a threat to their friendship?
Where does this woman get off?
I realize Barbra Jean isn't plotting to make Reba miserable. Her insecurity is played for laughs, and the episode allows her to recognize it.
But I still think there's something deeply selfish about the underlying attitude.
Someone who genuinely loves you should want you to be happy, even when your happiness changes how much time you can spend together.
That's true in romantic relationships.
It's true in families.
And it's certainly true in friendships.
You don't get to monopolize another person's life because you're afraid of being lonely.
And after everything Reba has already given up, she deserves a chance to build something for herself without having to reassure Barbra Jean that their friendship will survive.
Good grief.
There's a Difference Between Being a Good Stepmother and Becoming Reba's Best Friend
Now, before anybody accuses me of wanting Reba to spend six seasons throwing dishes at Barbra Jean, let me explain something.
I have absolutely no objection to divorced parents and their new spouses getting along.
Quite the opposite.
When children are involved, I think adults should make every reasonable effort to behave civilly.
Don't use children to settle scores.
Don't make them feel guilty for loving both parents.
Don't force them to choose sides.
And don't treat a child badly simply because the child's existence reminds you of something painful.
Brock and Barbra Jean's son, Henry, did nothing wrong.
Neither did Reba's children.
The adults had a responsibility to make their complicated family arrangement work as peacefully as possible.
I agree with that completely.
But cooperating for the children's sake is not the same thing as becoming best friends.
Reba could've been courteous to Barbra Jean.
She could've welcomed Henry into the children's lives.
She could've attended necessary family events.
And she could've established sensible boundaries while maintaining a civil relationship.
None of that required her to make Barbra Jean her confidante.
I think that's where the show's message becomes muddled.
It sometimes seems to suggest that the highest form of emotional maturity is not simply forgiving someone, but allowing that person unlimited access to your life.
I don't buy it.
You can be a decent person and still have boundaries.
In fact, I think boundaries are often part of being a decent person.
They allow relationships to continue without forcing everyone to pretend that the past never happened.
I Don't Believe Reba Had to Stay Angry Forever
Let me be fair.
There is another interpretation of this series, and I think it deserves consideration.
Maybe the writers weren't trying to make cheating seem acceptable.
Maybe they were showing that Reba was strong enough to move beyond it.
She didn't allow Brock's betrayal to destroy her sense of humor.
She continued raising her children.
She worked.
She built a life.
And eventually, she stopped defining Barbra Jean entirely by the affair that brought her into the family.
There's something admirable about that.
People are capable of more than their worst decision.
They can change.
They can show kindness.
And relationships sometimes develop in ways nobody would've expected.
I don't dispute any of that.
I can even understand why Reba would eventually see good qualities in Barbra Jean.
She's often affectionate.
She loves Henry.
She becomes genuinely attached to Reba's family.
And Melissa Peterman gives the character enough warmth that viewers can enjoy her without approving of everything she's done.
That's good television.
But here's where I draw my line.
Recognizing someone's good qualities doesn't erase the harm that person caused.
And forgiving someone doesn't mean the original betrayal becomes morally insignificant.
Reba's ability to move forward is admirable.
What troubles me is the extent to which the show makes her responsible for maintaining everyone else's happiness.
The Series Actually Knew Forgiveness Wasn't Simple
One reason I don't want to accuse the writers of completely forgetting the affair is the sixth-season episode "As We Forgive Those..."
In that story, Barbra Jean becomes anxious about a younger intern at the television station.
The intern reminds everyone of Barbra Jean.
Reba initially likes her.
But the resemblance eventually forces Reba to confront feelings about Barbra Jean that she hasn't entirely resolved.
The episode raises the possibility that Reba hasn't forgiven Barbra Jean as completely as she believed.
And that's significant.
It means the writers understood that resentment doesn't disappear simply because people have learned to get along.
You can laugh with somebody.
You can enjoy spending time together.
You can even care about that person.
And still have complicated feelings about what happened.
That's realistic.
And I appreciate it.
But I also think it strengthens my objection to the finale.
Because if the show understood that forgiveness was difficult, why did it need to finish by turning the relationship into such an emphatic declaration of friendship?
Why couldn't Reba reach a place where she could say she cared about Barbra Jean without making her the most important friend in her life?
Why couldn't she acknowledge that they'd built something worthwhile while still recognizing the limits of their relationship?
I would've preferred that.
Perhaps it wouldn't have produced the same big laugh.
But I think it might have made a better point.
And Then Came the Finale
The series finale, "The Kids Are Alright," aired February 18, 2007.
By then, Brock and Barbra Jean's marriage is in trouble.
Barbra Jean has been offered a television job in Arkansas.
She's considering leaving.
And Reba becomes involved in convincing her to reconsider what she's walking away from.
Then comes the moment I still have trouble accepting.
Reba announces that Barbra Jean is her best friend.
Everybody is stunned.
Barbra Jean is delighted.
And Reba jokes that the declaration says something rather unfortunate about her own social life.
It's a funny scene.
I'll give the writers that.
But I remember thinking that the joke was covering up something I wasn't entirely comfortable with.
The woman who became pregnant by Reba's husband while he was still married to Reba is now being celebrated as Reba's closest friend.
And the moment is presented as emotional progress.
A happy ending.
A triumph of forgiveness.
Well, pardon me for not throwing confetti.
I don't think being able to call the woman involved in your husband's affair your best friend should be the ultimate measure of how well you've recovered from a betrayal.
Reba was already a strong woman.
She'd proved it over and over again.
She didn't need to make Barbra Jean her best friend to demonstrate that she wasn't bitter.
And if she genuinely wanted the friendship, that was her choice.
But I don't love the idea that television viewers were encouraged to see this as the natural, satisfying conclusion to the story.
Sometimes the healthiest ending is simply two people treating each other respectfully and going home to their separate lives.
That can be enough.
Here's Where My Jewish Values Come Into It
There's a concept in Jewish tradition called teshuvah, often translated as repentance or return.
And I think it's particularly relevant here.
Real repentance isn't simply about saying you're sorry and hoping everyone becomes pleasant again.
It involves acknowledging what you did wrong, changing your behavior, and taking responsibility for the damage.
Maimonides, in his Mishneh Torah, emphasizes that when someone wrongs another person, making amends and seeking that person's forgiveness are essential.
I appreciate that.
Because it puts responsibility where it belongs.
On the person who committed the wrong.
Not exclusively on the person who was hurt.
Now, Jewish teachings also place value on forgiveness, and they don't encourage people to hold grudges indefinitely.
I'm not suggesting otherwise.
But I don't think the spirit of repentance is that someone may behave terribly, become lovable afterward, and then expect the injured party to welcome them into her inner circle.
That's not accountability.
That's an awfully convenient arrangement for the person who caused the damage.
And let me say something else.
Being a mensch doesn't mean being a pushover.
It doesn't mean sacrificing your dignity to keep everyone comfortable.
And it doesn't mean you have to turn every person who's wronged you into family.
A decent person can forgive.
A decent person can establish boundaries.
And a decent person can decide that a relationship has changed permanently because trust was broken.
Those positions aren't mutually exclusive.
If I were advising Reba, I'd tell her that making peace with Brock and Barbra Jean was admirable.
But she didn't owe them the rest of her emotional life.
Reba Was Always the One Expected to Be the Bigger Person
I think this is the real problem I've had with the show's message.
Reba was the responsible one.
The practical one.
The person everybody could count on.
And because she was so capable, everyone seemed to assume she could handle one more problem.
Brock needed advice?
Ask Reba.
Barbra Jean was upset?
Go to Reba.
Cheyenne and Van made another questionable decision?
Reba would figure it out.
Kyra was angry?
Reba would deal with it.
And all of this was supposed to demonstrate what a wonderful survivor she was.
Well, she was a survivor.
But sometimes I think the show confused surviving with being expected to tolerate an unreasonable amount of nonsense.
A strong woman is still entitled to consideration.
She's still allowed to say no.
And she's still allowed to expect other adults to clean up their own messes.
I don't believe strength means carrying everyone else's responsibilities indefinitely.
Sometimes strength means putting your foot down and saying:
"I love my family, but this particular problem is yours to solve."
And if somebody doesn't like hearing that?
Too bad.
The woman has already done enough.
I Can Love a Sitcom and Reject Its Moral Message
Here's something I think television fans need to understand.
Loving a show doesn't require agreeing with everything its characters do.
And it doesn't require accepting every lesson the writers appear to be teaching.
I can love The Andy Griffith Show and still write "Andy Taylor's Dating Double Standards: Peggy, Ellie, and Karen Deserved Better." Andy's mistakes don't make the show worthless, and Reba's treatment of forgiveness doesn't erase everything I enjoyed about her sitcom.
I can admire Michael Landon's work while questioning the way a particular Little House on the Prairie story ends.
And I can watch Reba, laugh until my sides hurt, and still believe its treatment of cheating and forgiveness deserves criticism.
That's part of what makes television worth discussing.
We're not simply watching fictional people entertain us.
We're watching stories about marriage, family, friendship, loyalty, responsibility, and moral choices.
And those stories invite us to consider what we'd do in similar circumstances.
I don't have to pretend the fictional characters are real people.
But I can absolutely examine the ideas their stories communicate.
And the idea that the woman involved in destroying your marriage can eventually become your best friend?
Well, it can happen.
But I wouldn't want anyone to believe it's a requirement for being a mature, forgiving person.
You don't have to reward someone with intimacy to prove you've let go of resentment.
That's an important distinction.
Maybe Barbra Jean Became a Better Person. That Still Doesn't Erase What Happened.
I want to give Barbra Jean some credit.
She isn't portrayed as malicious throughout the series.
She's often generous.
She can be kind.
And despite her lack of boundaries, she genuinely grows attached to Reba.
I believe she comes to care about her.
And Reba eventually comes to care about her, too.
I don't find that impossible.
Human beings are complicated.
I explored what genuine loyalty looks like in "What The Golden Girls Taught Us About Being a Good Friend." Dorothy, Rose, Blanche, and Sophia weren't perfect, but their friendship was something they chose to maintain through mutual affection and respect. That's a very different starting point from Barbra Jean's relentless attempts to win over the woman whose marriage she'd helped destroy.
Relationships change.
And people can develop affection under circumstances that seem unimaginable at the beginning.
But I think we should be careful about confusing affection with moral absolution.
Barbra Jean becoming likable doesn't mean having an affair with Brock was acceptable.
Brock occasionally behaving like a decent father doesn't erase his betrayal of his wife.
And Reba learning to appreciate Barbra Jean doesn't require us to conclude that everything worked out for the best.
It didn't.
A marriage ended.
Children had to adjust to a broken family.
Reba had to rebuild her life.
And the people who created that situation went on to form a new family of their own.
There were consequences.
Some of them were painful.
Some of them lasted.
And I think those consequences deserve acknowledgment even when the characters eventually find happiness.
A happy ending doesn't turn the wrong decision that preceded it into the right one.
That's the lesson I'd want viewers to remember.
Reba Deserved a Happy Ending That Was About Reba
You know what I wish?
I wish the final episode had spent a little less time resolving Brock and Barbra Jean's marriage and a little more time celebrating Reba's independence.
Because she really had accomplished something.
She'd survived a divorce she didn't want.
She'd continued raising her family.
She'd dealt with financial problems, parenting challenges, and the constant demands of people who somehow couldn't manage without her.
She'd made mistakes of her own.
She'd learned.
She'd grown.
And she'd maintained her sense of humor.
I would've loved an ending where Reba looked around, realized that everyone was finally capable of managing their own lives, and decided to concentrate on hers.
Not because she stopped loving her family.
But because she was entitled to have a life that didn't revolve around solving everybody else's problems.
And if Barbra Jean remained a friendly, occasionally exasperating part of that life, fine.
I could accept that.
But I would've preferred the story to make clear that Reba's happiness was not dependent on embracing the woman who'd helped upend her marriage.
Because Reba Hart deserved more than simply becoming comfortable with the circumstances other people created for her.
She deserved choices of her own.
The Woman Who Survived Didn't Owe Everybody a Friendship
So yes, I loved Reba.
I loved the cast.
I loved the humor.
And I still think it was one of the more entertaining family sitcoms of the 2000s.
But I don't particularly like the message I take from its conclusion.
Maybe the writers intended to celebrate forgiveness.
Maybe they wanted to show that families can grow beyond betrayal and resentment.
And maybe some viewers found the friendship between Reba and Barbra Jean genuinely inspiring.
I can respect that interpretation.
But here's mine.
Forgiveness should never become another obligation placed on the person who was betrayed.
Reba didn't need to spend the rest of her life furious at Brock.
She didn't need to punish Henry for the choices his parents made.
And she didn't need to regard Barbra Jean as an enemy forever.
But she also didn't need to make her the most important friend in her life.
She could've said:
"I've forgiven you. I wish you well. We can be family without pretending we're best friends."
And I would've stood up and applauded.
Because that would've demonstrated something I value enormously.
Self-respect.
I believe in kindness.
I believe in forgiveness.
And I believe people deserve opportunities to change.
But I also believe in consequences, responsibility, and telling the truth about what happened.
You don't get to rewrite a betrayal as a charming origin story simply because everybody eventually becomes fond of one another.
And you don't get to demand emotional closeness from the person who was hurt.
If Reba genuinely wanted Barbra Jean as her best friend, that was her decision.
But I'd hate for anyone watching to think that's what a good woman is supposed to do.
You can forgive somebody without inviting her into your kitchen every afternoon.
And frankly, after six seasons of Brock and Barbra Jean's nonsense, I think Reba had earned the right to sit in that kitchen alone with a cup of coffee.
In peace.
Without somebody barging through the door.
Now that would've been a happy ending.
Sources and Further Reading
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