Watching My Fair Lady for the first time as an adult, I found myself genuinely impressed, and then, inevitably, curious about what the internet had to say about it.

The film is still well-loved, but one particular sentiment is trending: Henry Higgins is misogynistic, and the ending is terrible because Eliza—a strong, independent woman—returns to her abuser.

Not overly surprising. We live in an era where cancellation arrives faster than context. I’m cautiously expecting Mr. Darcy to be next.

Back to My Fair Lady. Let me be clear: Henry Higgins is sexist, but not out of hatred. He’s simply allergic to emotional complexity, and the women of this story refuse to spare him from it. He finds men ‘superior’ because they won’t ask him to process feelings — which, to Higgins, apparently counts as a competitive advantage.

And the assumption that Eliza Doolittle returns to be trapped in a toxic relationship with a misogynistic man misreads what the film is actually doing.

Because:

First of All, Henry Higgins Is Flawed, and the Movie Knows It

Nobody in the movie agrees with the way Higgins behaves. Nobody.

From his housekeeper to his friend to his own mother, every important figure in his life calls him out at one point or another. And that’s because Higgins is written this way on purpose. His elitism and arrogance are central to his character, not traits meant to be admired or excused.

The film itself carries a satirical undertone aimed at British upper-class snobbery.

Then there is Eliza Doolittle, whose journey is not only about becoming a better version of herself, but also about confronting Higgins’ prejudice head-on. If Higgins did not have these flaws, this would be an incredibly short musical… with hardly any music.

“Romantic” Doesn’t Quite Describe Their Relationship

The main error in the argument against Eliza’s choice is the assumption that My Fair Lady is a romance, and that Henry Higgins is meant to be viewed as a dashing love interest.

First of all, Higgins’ one true love is the English language. There is no doubt about that.

Throughout the film, whether Eliza has romantic feelings for Professor Higgins is open for interpretation. Yes, he downs a glass of wine when he sees her in a beautiful dress. Yes, she looks smitten when he offers her his arm. But “romantic” is an oversimplification of what they share.

Higgins pulls Eliza out of her comfort zone and introduces her to a world of possibility. She challenges his beliefs, opens his eyes to things he would otherwise dismiss, refuses the idea of a romantic connection outright, and calls him out on his behavior.

Most importantly, they both want to continue learning from one another; and they want that enough to tolerate each other’s flaws.

In their own words:

“And you may throw me out tomorrow if I don’t do everything you want me to?”
“Yes; and you may walk out tomorrow if I don’t do everything you want me to.”

A platonic-based foundation is what they both have in mind. We may not have a neat label for this dynamic, but it is certainly more complicated than “romance.”

What Eliza Wants Should Count

Let’s start at the beginning.

Eliza comes to Higgins asking for lessons.

Eliza decides to stay despite the hardship.

Eliza plans to get a job after her education.

Eliza reassesses her life and realizes she no longer fits into the role she thought she wanted.

Eliza tells Higgins exactly what she wants from him, and exactly what she is willing to give in return.

The point is simple: Eliza is already an independent woman with a fully functioning brain before she ever meets Higgins.

She is not a naïve romantic heroine who falls for the first rude and mysterious man who shows interest in her. Her confidence was always there. It simply multiplies after her six-month education. Eliza knows her worth.

So why do we invalidate her decision to return to Higgins, reducing it to the misguided choice of an abused victim incapable of thinking for herself?

Continuing to associate with Higgins does not imply that Eliza won’t open a flower shop, take a job as a lady’s maid, or even date someone else in the future. There are no strings attached.

No, He Does Not Actually Want Her to Fetch the Slippers

Henry Higgins ends the movie with his iconic line as Eliza stands at the doorway of his library:

“Where the devil are my slippers?”

Many frustrated viewers seize this line as final proof that Eliza has returned to become a servant to her abuser. And I understand that reading. Truly. It’s certainly one way of interpreting the scene.

But if nuance is still allowed, this moment can be read very differently.

By this point, Higgins has learned something. He hasn’t changed completely, and he never will. But he’s developed just enough to realize that the center of his carefully controlled universe is the woman whose feelings he spent months trampling on. Progress, I suppose.

The slippers line is, first and foremost, a feeble attempt to save face. Do we really expect Henry Higgins to stand up and say something like:

“I am sorry and I promise to treat you better.”

Of course not. This is Henry Higgins, not Rhysand Lord of Hot Wings and Dramatic Monologues. Character consistency matters.

Secondly, remember how Eliza threw slippers at Higgins the day before. The slippers are mentioned again during their conversation at his mother’s house. By this point, they have become a running joke between them.

And lastly, honestly, do we truly believe that Eliza will fetch the slippers and place them dutifully at his feet once the curtains close?

No. She will not.

If she does pick them up, it will be because she considers him a human being worth engaging with — not because she considers herself a servant.

Taking that one line at face value means ignoring everything that came before it: their entire dynamic, the actors’ delivery, the subtext, etc. Convenient, but not quite fair, is it.

Eliza coming back means exactly what it looks like: two people who have seen the best and worst in each other and decide to continue anyway. No strings, no delusions.

As for Eliza ending up with Freddy? I’m not convinced. We might need more than a few charming giggles from Jeremy Brett to decide whether he’s truly a good fit.

My analysis is based on the 1964 film My Fair Lady, not the original play or any other adaptations.