Amy Poehler may have been dressed in the typical glittery-to-the-nines fashion at Sunday’s 63rd Primetime Emmy Awards; but when it came to the typical social graces of celebrity, that’s where Poehler subverted the rules.

For the past few years, award shows have become less likely to take themselves seriously, often parodying themselves - a nudge-nudge wink-wink to the audience who knows these shows are only memorable for their fashion and sound bites (There are limits—don’t make too much fun or you’ll be Gervaised out of their inner circle).

• Actress Amy Poehler. Photograph courtesy of Flickr user david_shankbone and used under a Creative Commons license. •

When presenter Rob Lowe read Poehler’s name from the list of nominees for lead comedy actress, she didn’t wait to hear the winner. Instead, she walked onstage with cocksure bravado and positioned herself near the podium with an “I got this” swagger.

Career ambition, competition is replicated for reality shows from Top Chef to Project Runway. We know what that looks like. But Poehler’s pre-victory stage walk challenged the image of women who don’t know their own worth. (Imagine if they did—maybe then, women as well as people of color and the working class—could finally get paid a fair salary.) Poehler’s Emmy persona had no problem with self-esteem. In 2011, humor should have no place for the “womanly” shtick of self-deprecation.

Yet Poehler’s strut also mirrored and mocked the way some men claim their power—it’s all in the shoulders, apparently. Many a man will walk into a room as if he owns it, even when he clearly doesn’t.

The message may have been unintentional, but any pop culture feminist worth her salt can’t ignore the fact that this was a woman who conquered the stage. If this had been a man—it would be business as usual. Another man full of himself—not exactly an act of transgression.

But this was a woman—and that changes everything.

Would the other nominees be in on the joke? According to the L.A. Times, Poehler had previously put together the takeover, even if it did have the feel of an improv. Melissa McCarthy, the next nominee on the list and a worthy follow-up to Poehler, rose from her seat, up for a fight with the attitude of “that’s how you want to play it—alright, it’s on.”

As the other nominees took the stage, the critique of the boy’s club faded into a stereotypical representation of women in competition: Tina Fey, the insecure girl; Edie Falco, the reluctant contestant who only wants a scholarship; Martha Plimpton, the obnoxious go-getter; and Laura Linney, a pageant pro with Vaseline on her teeth.

Despite the beauty pageant premise that had all six women holding hands like a Lifetime movie, it was an unmistakably feminist moment to see them standing together onstage, sharing the attention usually reserved for one winner. Gone was the hierarchy of award shows. Instead six women, who worked hard to be at the Emmys, were not sitting in their seats. They were sharing the power of walking on that stage. Many of the women (and men) in the audience must have felt that power too, because the nominees were given a standing ovation.

If this were a radically feminist moment, then someone would have torn up that envelope. But this is television, American television.

So they took the pageant motif as far as it would go—complete with roses and tiara for the beauty queen, Melissa McCarthy. Considering the thin blond cliché of traditional pageants, it was good to see McCarthy win—a real girl with a real body from Illinois. The other nominees graciously stepped aside for her “Emmy moment” and the award shows could rest easy with the hierarchy restored.

Whether she intended to or not, Amy Poehler’s performance at the Emmys showed us the power of being funny. Maybe that’s why there are people who would insist that women can’t be funny—because that’s how they try to take away that power. But Poehler and company have seen that view from the stage. There’s no turning back.