If you were to tell me during my freshman year of undergrad that Dan Harmon’s quirky sitcom about a failing community college would one day be one of the most interesting studies about our society, I would have laughed.

However, like most freshmen, I was often wrong. I once thought that it would be impossible for Futurama to ever make anyone cry.

Yahoo Screen’s sixth season of Community just wrapped up, leaving us with glimpses into the life of Greendale over the course of six years. If I was writing about any other sitcom, six seasons would translate into a whirlwind of relationship-defining plot lines. Someone would have had an existential crisis. We would be closer to learning if the main couple would ever end up together (Spoiler: They will). Someone would have—gasp!—threatened to leave the core group for good.

But this is Community—a show just as concerned with sitcoms and pop culture as it is with its own story lines. Six seasons in this instance means six seasons of keenly observing where we are in pop culture. This season, more than any other, overtly explored how we view and represent race and non-heterosexuality in today’s pop culture climate. And I have to say, after watching this season’s final episode, where we are isn’t great.

Community has always featured a varied cast of characters of different genders, races, sexual preferences, and quirks. There are so many quirks (looking at you, Starburns). I’m sure this diversity is in part because the show’s writers and creators are socially conscious, but I think it’s largely because Community is about, well, community. It’s a show about the social structures we as people are a part of and have placed on ourselves. And, ultimately, it’s a sitcom about trying to understand people who may seem different from us because, ultimately, we’re all just people trying to make it in this world. It’s a show about acceptance.

In this frame—the meta social commentary and Community‘s message about acceptance—that’s why Season Six’s relationship with race and sexuality is so important. Take Greendale’s newest student, Elroy Patashnik (Keith David).

Community has always existed in a slightly more diverse version of the white-washed world of American sitcoms, where characters of color are expected to act in a stereotypical manner. In the show, these characters do conform to racial stereotypes, but they are given so much dimension that they quickly escape the realm of intentional stereotypes. Sure, Troy (Donald Glover) was a football player and Shirley (Yvette Nicole Brown) was a devout church-going mother, but these became aspects of their story, not who they are. Troy realized that he could play football because he likes it, not because of peer pressure or any racial undertones, and Shirley’s religion become a guiding aspect of her character’s morality—not a punchline.

Instead of subtly inverting projected racial stereotypes, Elroy overtly fought against the group’s expectations of him. Elroy is a technology genius/amazing IT lady, and he demands to be recognized as such. In one of the earlier episodes, the group looks at Elroy after a vaguely racist statement has been made. Elroy’s response is not comforting or offended; it’s angry. He immediately says that checking racism will not be his role in the group, and that’s that.

This battle to be identified by his skills rather than his role as a black man in white sitcom-land seems to be a constant in Elroy’s life. At Garrett’s wedding, Elroy admits that he’s addicted to encouraging white people:

As hilarious as his admission is, the revealed root of his encouragement speaks very clearly about racism: “It started as simple survival. The tech industry in the 90s: This face? This voice? They’re either going to help you or hold you back. So you tap the gas because, well, why tap the brake?”

In the same note, Chang (Ken Jeong) had a B-plot this season that revolved around the stage adaptation of “The Karate Kid.” Though Chang attempts to be cast outside of race (and age) by trying out for the role of the titular Karate Kid, he is instead cast as Mr. Miyagi.

However, his understandable disappointment is remedied when he realizes that he was cast because, according to the show’s insane director, “he has the sadness and talent to make this show great…” Though he may have been cast according to his race on some level, it is ultimately Chang’s surprising talent as an actor that make the show, and his experience as an actor, great—great enough to later be considered by Steven Spielberg for his commercial work.

The Dean’s (Jim Rash) and Frankie’s (Paget Brewster) take on sexuality follows the same lesson: This single aspect of a person does not define their competence or their worth. Dean Pelton is offered a role on the schoolboard on the condition that he comes out as openly gay. Though he professes that he’s “not openly anything” and that being gay is only two-sevenths of what he is, the Dean agrees and comes out as a gay dean for the school, leading to this charming song:

The Dean later revises his revelation, coming out as an open politician rather than an openly gay man, but the Dean’s simultaneous leveraging and hiding of his sexuality to gain a better position is sad to watch. As usual, life champion Frankie Dart puts it best when she asks the Dean, “Are you prepared to make your sexuality, which is nobody’s business, an aspect of your role in society?”

She then finishes up her speech with a short sentence that may be the most powerful and overlooked lesson in all on Community history: “When a person becomes symbolic, they gain symbolic power at the price of independent power.”

Non-white race and non-hetero sexuality is not a punchline in Community. It’s part of who these characters are. It’s sad, pathetic, and telling of our society as a whole that this very basic and humane treatment is a commodity in the world of white sitcom-land.

This weird show about a weird community college has always been about more than just Greendale. It’s been about people and the challenges we face as groups and individuals. It’s only fitting that Community‘s sixth season, which in a lot of ways feels like its last season, would so clearly echo what it’s been saying since its pilot: We need to treat each other better.

[You can stream Community Seasons 1-5 on Hulu]

[You can stream Community Season 6 on Yahoo Screen]

Kayla Cobb is a proud graduate of Clemson University and loves her cat and TV shows more than some people love their kids. You should really follow her on Twitter at @KaylCobb.

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