From defending her sister from a selfish beauty queen to giving old-fashioned men a reality check of how the world got to where it is, there is no one better to show the true way of being a southern female with rage while still being graceful like Julia Sugarbaker.
The iconic woman was played by Dixie Carter, a West Tennessee native, from 1986 to 1993 in the hit TV show Designing Women.
Today, in a society of TikTok, trends come and go, but one that has seemingly held on is the trend of showing female rage.
Female rage is the uninhibited expression of anger by women, often depicted in pop culture and media. Some well-known examples of this are Florence Pugh’s performance in Don’t Worry Darling, just about all of the women in Desperate Housewives, and, of course, the iconic Julia Sugarbaker.
During the 1980s, women were still making progress toward a level playing field with men, and thus, there was an influx of women who represented that in the media.
Julia Sugarbaker was not just a character—she was a cultural shift wrapped in pearls and armed with a razor-sharp tongue.
Whether she was shutting down sexist politicians or homophobic women during the Aids epidemic, she embodied a specific brand of femininity that did not shrink itself to make others comfortable. Her monologues were less rants and more declarations of truth, delivered with elegance and fire, earning her the nickname “The Terminator” in pumps.
In an era when women were still expected to smile politely and let the men talk, Julia broke through the noise. She did not yell for the sake of attention—she spoke with purpose, backbone and unshakable belief that she had every right to take up space. Her rage was not chaotic; it was righteous, focused and, most importantly, respected.
This was a counterattack to the culture in which she was raised as a high-society woman in the South. Her way of using grace to keep good standing and get esteemed clients was always backed up with her ability to counterattack people who need to be knocked down a notch.
Julia knew the rules of Southern decorum inside and out and used them to her advantage. She weaponized wit, poise, and her deep understanding of social expectations to challenge injustice within the system that tried to confine her.
Rather than rejecting her upbringing entirely, she refined it into a tool for empowerment. Julia was not loud because she lacked control; she was loud when it mattered. Her monologues, delivered with surgical precision and a deliberate southern cadence, were less about volume and more about impact.
She reminded everyone watching that a woman can be both formidable and feminine—that a sharp tongue and a soft voice are not mutually exclusive.
In doing so, Julia paved the way for a new archetype of Southern womanhood—one that did not apologize for its power. It is no wonder that, in today’s wave of female-led storytelling, her legacy is still felt. She was not just ahead of her time; she shaped the time we live in now.
Fast forward to today, and you will find echoes of Julia Sugarbaker in the sharp-witted dialogue of characters like Shiv Roy in Succession or the unapologetic drive of women like Beth Dutton in Yellowstone.
The world might be louder now, with social media amplifying every voice, but the heart of female rage remains the same: a demand to be heard, seen and valued.
But unlike the sometimes unhinged portrayals in modern media, Julia offered a template for power that did not rely on destruction—it relied on dignity. She reminded viewers that strength is not always about who yells the loudest. Sometimes, it is about who speaks the clearest.
While she is not the first woman to bring in such an archetype, she is a major one for women, especially in the South. As women continue to be taken advantage of by the media and people around them, we can look to people like Julia as a reminder of how to stay classy but also make our voices heard.
