So, let’s get into it!

Inside this week:

• a conversation on double standards—if we can call them that

• the weekly Hot or Not list

double standards… or are they?

The first major conflict (meaning an interpersonal conflict involving many people that isn’t motivated by connections rather than a relational conflict involving individuals getting to know one another) kicked off this week after the first challenge, “It’s Not That Deep,” which evidently was that deep. There were some relational conflicts to be sure: Fitzy and Lola’s conversation about finances, Jasmine’s love of attention at odds with Kavan’s distaste for a woman who likes to be at the center of things.

But bigger than any one couple’s disagreement, we saw a major gender divide reveal itself over two words: double standards.

All the men united over the idea that the women in the villa had double standards, though this primarily came up in three instances:

• Yasmin’s confession was that she once used an ex’s name when saying “I love you” to her then-partner

• Simba’s confession that his guy friends would describe him as having a wandering eye

• Lorenzo’s confession that he had slept with eleven women but only knew the names of three

The men were triumphant, feeling like they’d caught the women out in some sort of lie. They got together in a little pity party that evening, then had an array of conflicts with various women over the “double standards” they thought they’d unveiled.

But did the women actually hold double standards? I’d say no. Let’s take them one at a time.

wrong name, wrong time

Yasmin’s confession that she had used an ex’s name while telling her then-partner that she loved him had Aidan feeling smug. If Yasmin had done that, then his slip of the tongue earlier in the villa—calling Yasmin “Ellie” during the unfinished business debacle—was apparently canceled out.

It was unfair of Yasmin to be upset with Aidan for calling her by the wrong name, Aidan asserted. The men all seemed to agree with him.

The devil’s in the details, though, and multiple details gave me pause.

First, is it fair to say that accidentally saying the name of a long-term partner to a new partner is the same as accidentally saying the name of a woman you’ve known for less than a week to another woman you’ve known for less than a week? I don’t think so. To be fair, I’d say that Yasmin’s offense was almost certainly worse—after all, that’s why it’s her confession. The islanders were expected to choose something they were at least a little embarrassed about, so it’s clear she felt some remorse over the incident. Aidan, on the other hand, has been looking for a way to prove that actually, he shouldn’t have to be embarrassed about the faux pas at all.

Second, Aidan claimed that it was unfair for Yasmin to have been “fuming” over Aidan calling her the wrong name when she had made the same mistake with a different partner in the past. Had Yasmin been fuming? From what we saw, I’d say no. Aidan called Yasmin “Ellie,” realized he’d done it, pushed her head down as he stood up, and then ran away! Yasmin obviously didn’t like what had happened, but she seemed content to brush it off as an accident. She wasn’t just not angry with him—she was gracious about it. We can presume she had that grace for him because she’d made a similar mistake in the past and understood that shit happens.

Third, why should one offense in one relationship cancel out an offense in a completely separate relationship? No one is keeping a running tally of all mistakes made in every relationship—we’re not keeping score of who’s good and who’s bad (at least, I’m not). No one loses the right to be upset by something just because they’ve made a similar mistake in the past.

So—is it a double standard? I think it’s obviously not, but if you disagree, I’m all ears.

the case of the wandering eye

When Simba revealed that his guy friends would say his red flag is having a wandering eye, the women were chill about it. Ope, on the other hand, was not.

Ope felt that the women were holding the two men to different standards. Why were the women upset when he said he had a wandering eye before drinks with Victoria and Namibia, but not when Simba’s confession was revealed?

Well, for one thing, Simba’s confession was about how his friends would describe him, while Ope described himself as having a wandering eye. Not too different from each other, I’ll admit, but still worth noting.

The question here, though, is: were the women upset that Ope described himself as having a wandering eye?

Ope latched onto the similarity between one of the many things he said on that night with Victoria and Namibia and what Simba confessed in the challenge because, like Aidan, he felt it was a tit-for-tat direct comparison. But Ope said a lot of shit that night: with the boys, with the women at drinks, and on his date with Victoria.

It seemed pretty clear to me that Ope’s comment to the other men about having a wandering eye was the least of the women’s concerns. They were upset about:

• him declaring his head was spun as soon as he saw Victoria

• his intense, sexual style of flirting

• his comments about the pace of his relationship with Angelista being slower than he would’ve liked—which diverged from what he had said to Angelista

Ope displaced the hurt Angelista experienced from his pattern of behavior onto a single phrase because that allowed him to say she was holding him and Simba to separate standards.

to notes app or not to notes app, that is the question

This one is a bit trickier because the “double standard” is hypothetical.

After Lorenzo revealed that he only knew the names of three out of the eleven women he’d slept with (that’s about a 27% memory rate, if you were wondering), the women of the villa were slightly horrified. They felt it was disrespectful to not remember the women’s names—and I agree.

When Priya said that, in fact, she kept a list in her notes app with the names of the men she’d slept with, the men of the villa—especially Samraj—declared that she was weird for doing so. They also claimed that the women would hold them to a different standard; hypothetically, if one of the men said he kept a notes app list of the women he’d slept with, then the women would think he’s weird.

Not exactly fair. The men think it’s weird for the women to have a list, so of course they would presume the women would feel the same way. But the women agreed that they wouldn’t find it weird at all—and the men just insisted they were lying. Charming.

Jasmine pointed out to Lorenzo later that aside from it being a matter of respect, it was important to keep track of the names and numbers of people you’d slept with in case something happened. She was vague about it in that conversation, sure, but it’s obviously an issue of contact tracing in case of STIs.

and the verdict is…

The women aren’t holding the men to double standards! They just have the capacity to hold nuance in mind, and the men don’t.

Now, onto Hot or Not. I’m keeping it short this week (because I’ve got a trip to go on, and it’s almost time to be out the door).

that’s hot!

Lola and Fitzy’s financial convo

I thought they handled that conversation with a lot of maturity. Both of them calmly expressed their concerns and addressed them respectfully.

Mica friend-zoning Samraj

Mica was very gracious about the whole situation. I know Samraj didn’t like it much, but Mica did the best she could under the circumstances. It’s a bit absurd that all of them have to have these intense conversations so early in the series, but everyone has been very possessive so far.

…and that’s not.

Ope’s reaction to Victoria choosing him

The dramatic eye rolls, huffs and sighs, pouting—he was doing the most in the worst way. It was so disrespectful to Victoria, who was in a tough spot herself. (And it did him in, in the end; if he hadn’t been so rude to her, they might have been deemed to have a stronger connection than Sam and Namibia.)

Aidan’s jealousy over Yasmin and Lorenzo

I think he’s being ridiculous, full stop. There’s no reason why she can’t explore her connection with Lorenzo, and it’s bizarre for him to try to force her hand by closing things off with Ellie. It’s fine to end things with Ellie if he wants to, but the ulterior motive is giving controlling. So is his request that Lorenzo inform him any time he wants to talk to Yasmin. Lorenzo and Yasmin aren’t in school, and Aidan’s not their dad. Once again: controlling! And definitely putting Yasmin off him.

If you’re watching, too, please leave a comment to let me know your thoughts! (We only watch the UK version—maybe I’ll tell you why another time—so take any commentary on the USA version elsewhere, please and thank you.)

This week’s focus was the drama between Aidan, Ellie, Yasmin, and Kavan—and that’s the focus of this week’s newsletter, too.

But before I get into it, I wanted to say: make sure you stick around ‘til the end of the newsletter for my weekly Hot or Not list. It isn’t looks I’m talking about—it’s behavior. Who was swoon-worthy, and who was icky AF?

someone needs a geometry lesson

Because where is this so-called triangle??

To recap:

• Ellie and Aidan couple up right away.

• Yasmin and George come in as bombshells—and are told they’ll have to choose one boy and one girl to dump after their first 24 hours are up.

• George wants to have his cake and eat it too, so he plans to dump Samraj; Robyn is in a friendship couple with Sam, so he doesn’t have to get rid of Sam to keep chatting with her, but Mica is happily coupled up with Samraj. But George doesn’t want to look like a solo schemer, so he appears to talk a reluctant Yasmin into dumping Ellie (with whom she’s formed a fast friendship) so she can keep chatting with Aidan.

• Ellie and Samraj are dumped, but they’re given a second chance! They go on dates with new bombshells: Samraj with the delightful Priya, and Ellie with Aidan’s younger but far more mature brother Kavan.

• When the four of them return to the villa, Ellie continues getting to know Kavan. She’s upset that Aidan and Yasmin didn’t tell her about their kiss(es?) when she returned, but says that’s about the disrespectful lack of communication, not a desire to continue getting to know Aidan. Aidan, however, feels there’s “unfinished business” on both sides.

• After another recoupling, it’s Yasmin with Aidan and Ellie with Kavan (who seems more interested in Jasmine, but that’s neither here nor there).

• Then, the men get a chance to meet two new bombshells—and the women get to watch! Aidan tells the bombshells, Victoria and Namibia, that he’s in a “sandwich” with Ellie and Yasmin, which Ellie and Yasmin are not happy about.

So, I have to ask: what fucking sandwich?!

Over and over again, Ellie asserts that she’s not interested in Aidan any longer. His behavior gave her the ick—and I’d guess it’s giving Yasmin the ick, too. Between him calling her Ellie, their kisses not “aligning,” and his insistence on this so-called sandwich, it’s hard to imagine that Yasmin is feeling positive about the direction their relationship is headed.

I wouldn’t say that anything Ellie says goes in one ear and out the other—I don’t think Aidan is hearing a word she’s saying at all. It’s so jarring to see two people living in completely different realities and in the same villa. Aidan doesn’t seem to be able to hold Ellie’s truth as her truth.

After recoupling with Kavan, Ellie insists to Aidan that there’s no unfinished business between them. And then what does Aidan do? He tells Kavan that there’s unfinished business between him and Ellie! The brothers have said they’re competitive, so I’d guess that Aidan isn’t happy about how many women are interested in Kavan. I don’t know if he’s actively trying to sabotage Kavan and Ellie’s relationship; my guess would be that it’s unintentional. More likely (in my opinion), Ellie’s apparent lack of interest in Aidan is threatening his self-image as a charmer who’s good at getting his way with women, and his denial is a way of protecting that self-image.

But then.

Watching Aftersun, I was gobsmacked to hear how many people—everyone on the panel except Joe—thought Ellie was still interested in Aidan. Even Aidan’s mother is optimistic that the two of them will reconnect.

Straight people, if you’re out there, tell me: am I missing something?

Ellie has said repeatedly that as far as she’s concerned, there’s no unfinished business. She’s been clear, emphatic, and firm. I kept yelling at my TV, “How much clearer can she be?!” From my perspective, the situation is as simple as no means no. She said she’s not interested—case closed, end of story. His persistence reads as pressure.

Many people have brought up “the thrill of the chase.” This seems to me to be a heteronormative, patriarchal dating ritual underpinned by dangerous logic. The structure of chase assumes that the one being chased (a woman) does desire the one chasing (a man). Within this framework, the man doesn’t think no means no. He believes that underneath her no—regardless of how clear, emphatic, and firm that no is—there is a yes waiting to be revealed. Eventually, if he just pushes hard enough, she will yield to that yes.

People want to feel desired. People want to show their desire for someone. There are dynamics in which the chase isn’t potentially harmful—when it’s consensual. On Love Island, people are courting one another. When a man brings a woman her morning coffee, that’s the chase!

The question is, when does the chase become the hunt?

To me, the answer seems obvious: when the one being chased says no. Ellie told Aidan that there’s no unfinished business. That’s where the chase should end.

And who knows—maybe if Aidan respected Ellie’s boundaries, she would feel like he respects her and be open to the idea of reconnecting in the future. Telling people, including her, that the door is still open with her isn’t respecting her boundaries.

Now, it’s onto Hot or Not. Let’s get into it!

that’s hot!

Lola and Sean/Fitzy

From what I’ve seen, they’re cute together! They’ve both been very respectful of each other, and they seem genuinely interested in getting to know each other more. The hidden-camera dates were an opportunity for the women in the villa to see what the men are like when they aren’t around, and Sean maintained his respect and admiration for Lola.

Mica telling George she was taking a step back.

She stood up for herself and stayed above the mess.

Samraj and Ellie queening out in the hideaway.

Ellie and Samraj’s second chance finally felt like the drama was heating up.

I loved watching them give each other advice on their outfits, and the time together gave them a chance to process their feelings about being dumped by George and Yasmin. I thought their matching swimwear before they found out they were going on dates was definitely an example of maximizing their joint slay.

and that’s not.

The initial coupling.

There was no courage, no guts, no charm! Very disappointing. But not surprising—most islanders insist that they don’t have a type looks-wise, just personality-wise, so following up those initial assertions with a decision that forced everyone to make a decision based almost entirely on looks obviously resulted in reluctance.

I really felt for Angelista, who (imo) did not want to be picked last. LI almost always begins with the Black people in the villa being coupled up, no matter how the coupling is structured, and Angelista seems acutely aware of that dynamic. While this isn’t an in-depth conversation about the subject, there is a lot of discussion re: the racial politics of LI, which is really a way for people to talk about the racial politics of the UK and/or the cultural zeitgeist on a micro-scale. It’s a topic that deserves more thoughtful, in-depth writing, so I’m not going to touch on it more in this particular newsletter, but I would be remiss if I didn’t name the dynamic.

“Promiscuous” and “bitch.”

I agree with Jasmine’s conclusion that Lorenzo didn’t know what “promiscuous” meant. But there’s no reason he should be throwing “bitch” around, and I felt like Jasmine let him off easy. She told him he shouldn’t ever call her a bitch, which is true, but I hope someone talked to him about the fact that he shouldn’t ever call anyone a bitch.

George’s approach to dating multiple women.

He brought fuckboy vibes and a level of strategy that most people on LI avoid—or at least avoid making so damn obvious.

My initial guess was that Yasmin would dump Angelista—whose connection with Ope hasn’t seemed particularly strong—and George would dump Sam to be with Robyn. Personally, I wouldn’t have been particularly happy with the first two people dumped being the Black woman and the man with a disability, but that seems par for the course of mainstream British culture. But George was very much interested in playing the field.

Then, spent the remainder of his time in the villa talking out of both sides of his mouth. Robyn, Mica, Robyn, Mica—depending on who he was talking to, his answer to the question, “who do you like more?” constantly changed. I felt that Robyn let him off way too easily. My impression was that George was actually interested in Mica but knew that Robyn was always down for a good time on the terrace (which she seemed to think would draw him toward her, not lead him to use her). If Mica wasn’t interested, he could always go back to Robyn without much trouble. Now, we’ll never know how his strategy would’ve played out. And that’s fine with me.

I hope all is well with him and his family!

How the other men treat Sam.

Shakira’s comments on Aftersun captured my sentiment: the other men are patronizing and condescending when they talk to Sam. Their behavior at drinks with Victoria and Namibia was cringe-inducing. The infantilization—acting like he’s never been with a woman before when in fact he was in a long-term relationship—is an embarrassing display of internalized ableism. I hope the men tone it down soon; treating him like a kid isn’t going to make him a more appealing partner.

Ope’s chat on his date with Victoria.

I think Angelista’s frustrations were fair. Ope told her that he didn’t mind the pace they were moving at, then told Victoria that he prefers a faster pace. He declared that his head was spun. His date was definitely the most sexually charged of the four, which is if anything uncomfortable to watch.

I will say, though, I’m not really sure what Angelista expected. Nothing we’ve seen of their coupling (which is very little, to be fair) suggests that they have a strong connection. I assumed both of them were waiting for someone better to come along. That being said, it’s not nice to hear/watch, and if it hadn’t been on camera, I have to wonder whether Ope would’ve said anything about it to her.

Jasmine getting upset with Lorenzo over his date.

Maybe a controversial take! But I don’t think Lorenzo did anything wrong in this instance. It’s not like he gushed over Priya and Yasmin while saying nothing about Jasmine—he was very diplomatic.

And then there’s this issue of Lorenzo saying Jasmine has made her feelings about him clear. I fear the straight men of the world aren’t thinking enough about what they’re saying to try to plant subtext! Nothing Lorenzo has said makes me think people shouldn’t just take him at face value. What he said is true—Jasmine has been clear with Lorenzo about how she feels about him. The assumption that he meant Jasmine has been obviously interested in him is a strange one to me. From my perspective: Lorenzo, like Ellie, is saying exactly what he means, while Jasmine, like Aidan, is assuming there’s some hidden truth beneath it all. But maybe straight people are always lying to one another and I’m just naive.

If I were him, I’d be surprised by how upset Jasmine was. If someone called me a rock, I would assume they’re not that into me. And it seems obvious that their personalities are mismatched. Jasmine wants someone to treat her like the center of their orbit, and that’s just not Lorenzo’s style. Why not focus on finding people with whom they’re actually compatible?

alright, that’s all for now! ttyl xo

Since its inception, The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives has fascinated me. The tension between traditional gender roles and class status (and, in Layla’s case, race) is central to the series, which asks: how can a young Mormon woman be a “good wife/mother” in the Influencer Era of commodification of women’s bodies? The answer, of course, is that they can’t. The tragedy of the series is that the women keep trying to be good wives and mothers—an impossible task.

When I use the phrase “good wives and mothers,” I am referring specifically to the Mormon conceptualization of women’s roles in family and community life. In “Roles of Women” by Barbara B. Smith and Shirley W. Thomas, from Latter-Day Saint Essentials: Readings from the Encyclopedia of Mormonism, Smith and Thomas explain, “One function of women is the consistent attention to the needs of others—not only family but all within reach of their help.” Smith and Thomas go on to assert that this function has led to women becoming, for example, doctors, midwives, teachers, and home industrialists. They argue that the practice of polygamy early in the Church’s history, in combination with men frequently going on missions, actually increased women’s independence—and their interdependence with other women (at the time, their sister wives). Smith and Thomas also point out that “[t]he companionship role is the one most often identified for women in the Church.” Though men and women are considered equals, both obedient to the Lord, the caring function prescribed to women essentially constructs and maintains patriarchal gender hierarchy.

There are limits to the value of theoretical discussions of Church doctrine; at the end of the day, the real-world impact is not to respect “the inherent equality of men and women,” regardless of how the Book of Mormon’s creation story is interpreted in an academic context. However, it’s strange to me how many people feel comfortable critiquing Mormon culture without making an effort to understand its complexities and in-group dialogues regarding the subjects of critique, i.e., gender roles in the Church. And these are critiques I share! But you cannot simply argue that a culture is “bad” or “harmful” because it 1) diminishes the nuance contained by any culture, and 2) alienates members of that culture from such arguments.

Put another way, the moralizing around Taylor Frankie Paul, her fellow members of MomTok, and the positionality of Mormon women in general doesn’t support those women, let alone liberate them—it only shames and humiliates them. And if they believe, as Smith and Thomas argue, that women in the Church are fundamentally equal to men, then that moralizing also reads to them as a radical misunderstanding of their culture that can only put them on the defensive.

The women of SLOMW are, or at least claim to be, making their own critique of gender roles in Mormon culture. They’re often mocked online for selling sex toys, not wearing their garments, drinking alcohol, and talking about the female orgasm, especially because they frame this as resistance to the Church’s gender norms and an attempt to bring the Church into the twenty-first century. Simultaneously, the women could be considered promoting their lifestyle (including their culture), or at least trying to. In “Under the Mormon Influence: How the Women of Utah Blogged and Posted Their Way into American Hearts and Wallets,” Bridget Read writes, “In 2007, [...] Elder M. Russell Ballard asked BYU Hawaii graduates in a somewhat infamous address to ‘join the conversation by participating on the internet, particularly the new media, to share the gospel.’ He was asking them to go forth and blog.” What we see in SLOMW, then, is the tension between trying to share one’s culture with people outside of it while working to shift one’s culture with people within it. It’s a complicated position to be in—a position made even more difficult when, as the women of MomTok experience, there is condemnation and ridicule from both within and outside of their cultural context. There are Mormons (*cough* DadTok *cough*) who want to preserve patriarchal systems and thus heavily criticize the women for what is often seen as promiscuous behavior, and there are non-Mormons (*cough* feminist bloggers and the ilk *cough*) who want the women to completely abandon Mormonism/patriarchal systems and thus heavily criticize the women for what is often seen as upholding patriarchal norms.

In effect, the women of MomTok are under constant dual pressure, trying and failing to satisfy two conflicting worldviews in an attempt to forge a cultural space that feels aligned to their desires.

As I’ve watched SLOMW, I have always felt a particular fondness (and sadness) for Taylor Frankie Paul. Read describes Taylor as “the ringleader of the group” whose “swinging drama was just the show’s initial hook.” In the pilot episode, it certainly seems that way—the early emphasis is on Taylor’s TikTok confession that she and other members of MomTok have been swinging, that feelings became involved in unintended ways, and that she was getting a divorce. Whatever “ringleader” status Taylor had before that point is absent now: the other swingers are upset with her for revealing their secret, while the non-swingers are upset that they’re being associated with swinging.

The episode ends with a dramatic turn: a domestic violence incident that ends with Taylor in handcuffs. She ends up charged with aggravated assault.

From the second episode of the series on, the part Taylor plays is very different. Gone is the woman who “called herself a ‘mommy by day’ in a shapeless white gown and a ‘mami by night’ in a leather crop top,” as Read put it. That veneer is still there, glossy and gorgeous, but it is obvious that Taylor has changed since hitting rock bottom. She is more subdued, more exhausted, more focused on protecting her family (perhaps a result of the court-mandated parenting classes she took after pleading guilty to aggravated assault in that case).1 While all of the women use Instagram-pop-psychology-heavy vocabulary, Taylor’s discussion of boundaries, accountability, and healing seem more rooted in a genuine experience of the therapeutic process.

Taylor would like to be her mommy/mami self, but that identity has been stripped from her. Instead, she is constantly bombarded with judgment and heavy criticism. Her parents and siblings put all of the responsibility for her situation onto her, insisting that her sexual behavior is to blame for all of her struggles. They pressure her to get back together with Dakota Mortensen—to marry him, in fact—because of their shared son. Her so-called friends in MomTok regularly discuss whether to oust her, not just as leader but as a member of the group altogether. Dakota clings to her like a leech, draining her energy and trying to persuade her to get back together with him. And we, the audience at home, freely share our opinions on her—which is, I believe, an understood and accepted result of being on reality TV, though I think the conversation around Taylor is particularly unkind and under-considered.

In her familial, romantic, sexual, platonic, community, and public life, Taylor is constantly mocked, insulted, despised. This is not, of course, universally true—she has a dedicated fan base, some of whom defend Taylor rabidly against any perceived mistreatment (i.e., the CMAs incident). But the majority consensus is that Taylor is a bad wife/girlfriend, a bad mother, a bad daughter, a bad friend.

What strikes me about this dynamic—aside from the fact that it is an incredibly isolating and painful way for someone to live—is that it seems to be a fundamental misunderstanding of reality TV as a genre. I find it to be an incredibly concerning reflection of how media literacy has warped over the years due (at least in part) to new media’s reciprocal relationship with legacy media.

I have been thinking about this especially since listening to the episode of NPR’s It’s Been a Minute about the current controversy around Taylor, “Is this the end of reality TV?” Host Brittany Luse talks to Rebecca Jennings, a features writer for New York Magazine:

LUSE: It’s so great to have you back. I know you’ve covered your fair share of reality television over the years. But in my experience, even, like, the most seasoned reality TV viewers and fans have one true favorite. And so I wonder, what is your go-to? Like, when you’re like, I’m down for (ph) reality TV. What is your go-to?

JENNINGS: Oh, my gosh. I think the OG, I think maybe the best reality TV show ever made, is “The Real Housewives Of New York City,” not only because it’s, you know, New York is where I live, but just because I think without that, we wouldn’t have so many of our favorite sayings, our favorite characters. I’m not going to say people because I don’t know, like, if we’re, like, the more...

LUSE: It’s hard to stand the women. It’s hard to stand them, to be honest with you.

JENNINGS: Yeah.

LUSE: (Laughter).

JENNINGS: But I think it’s so iconic, and it was a real gateway drug for me, I will say.

Jennings refers to the cast of The Real Housewives of New York City as “characters,” which Luse interprets as Jennings not wanting to say any of the women are her “favorite” people because “[i]t’s hard to stand the women.” I can’t claim to know what Jennings meant. But what I can say is that, from my perspective, the “people” we see on reality TV shows are characters—they are constructed personas with defined arcs and tropes.

Social media originated as an internet space for individuals to share (facets of) themselves with others in their orbit. As an individual user of social media, you are constructing a self-image that others interpret. This stands in stark contrast to the corporate control over narrative construction in the realm of legacy media. We all know the role of the producer in reality TV. We know that there is limited run-time in a season, that some storylines are inevitably cut, that scenes can and will be cherry-picked to heighten the drama. This has always been the nature of reality TV.

Where new media and legacy media converge is the influencer-to-reality-star / reality-star-to-influencer pipeline. I would argue that the two roles are actually one and the same. Because social media was purportedly a space for individual people regardless of celebrity to share their (constructed) lives with others, there seems to be a misconception regarding the authenticity of influencers. This is a topic of frequent conversation, though I’ve found such conversations to be, generally speaking, centered on the individual—the personal brand.

Capitalism wants the focus to be on the individual. The commodification of self-image has long been the aim of social media (perhaps always has been), with the idea being that anyone can pull themselves up by their bootstraps and become an online personality if they’re ___ enough: pretty, funny, charming, interesting, sexy—you fill in the blank.

But an influencer, a successful influencer, is not an individual. As Natalie Jarvey noted in the the May 2025 issue of her newsletter Like & Subscribe, “‘Secret Lives of Mormon Wives’: How Swinging, Scandal, Soda = Big Bank,” Taylor was signed to Select Management Group (where SLOMW executive producer Lisa Filipelli is a partner) by Danielle Pistotnik “about two years before Paul lit up pandemic-era TikTok with the news” of the swinging scandal. Pistotnik is Taylor’s manager (as well as managing other members of MomTok), but it was Filipelli who made the pilot episode of SLOMW happen after the swinging scandal. The team had to ride out the aftermath of the 2023 domestic violence case between Taylor and Dakota before the show could be released, hence the time jump between the first and second episodes.

What is a manager if not the new media version of a producer? Clearly, Filipelli does both—and does them well. Multiple members of MomTok can be managed by the same person because management means constructing narratives on their behalf. The relationship between influencer and reality star is reciprocal because they are, simply put, the same functional role for different forms of media.

The personal brand is a misnomer because it suggests individual control when, in fact, what it actually means is simply that the thing being marketed is a personality. Not a person. We understand this with reality TV stars and politicians, yet something about the frame of social media has warped that understanding with influencers.

Taylor Frankie Paul as we the audience know her is a character, not a person.

The problem, of course, is that the audience doesn’t necessarily understand her as a character. When Luse suggests that Jennings uses “character” as a way to separate one’s viewing pleasure from the actions of the person being viewed, she fails to see how the “person” being viewed does not exist for the audience. Taylor is a real person, yes. But the Taylor we see on social media and on SLOMW is not a real person.

This isn’t solely an issue of media literacy. Like I said, capitalism has intentionally formulated this misunderstanding in the age of new media. Honestly, it’s a misunderstanding that Taylor and the other women of MomTok might believe themselves, though I sincerely hope they don’t. Jennings, for her part, is aware of the tension between the myth and the reality of influencer-as-career, noting that Taylor is “very beloved for her sort of perceived authenticity.” Emphasis on perceived. Taylor-as-character is designed to appear real, authentic, honest. The myth of influencer-as-career demands it. But that gets muddied as soon as the character moves from the world of social media to the world of reality TV.

As Jennings explains, the Bachelor franchise has been in a ratings decline due to its conservative premise compared to other dating shows and its recent reputation as a place where people go “to become influencers.” The casting of Taylor was intended to boost ratings by bringing her audience to Bachelor Nation. In “Whitney As Ego, Taylor As Id,” Madison Huizinga describes it this way: “Love Island [like other similar dating shows] is practically engineered for short-form, and The Bachelor is for suburban wine night. Casting Taylor Frankie Paul as the Bachelorette was surely a way to get younger, more chronically online viewers interested in the franchise again.” Jennings notes that because Taylor is already an influencer, her motive for going on The Bachelorette can’t be to become an influencer, which ostensibly improves the credibility of the show’s underlying premise.

Jennings and Luse hypothesize that what Taylor gets out of the deal is the prestige associated with Bachelor Nation, which they say is considered classy (notice that conservative and classy are interchangeable in this framework). I would argue, though, that what Taylor gets out of it is much simpler: money. And she is getting it—reports suggest that Taylor is still receiving her full six-figure payment for being on the show because, even though it isn’t being aired, she fulfilled her part of the contract by filming the whole thing.

Being on a reality TV show and being an influencer are two means to the same end: making money for playing a character. A character that shares your name, face, and at least some aspects of your personality, sure—but still, a character.

In February 2023, Taylor was arrested following a domestic violence incident involving Dakota and, sadly, one of her children. She pleaded guilty to aggravated assault in August 2023. The pilot episode of SLOMW had already been filmed prior to her arrest. The rest of the first season filmed after her guilty plea, and it aired in September 2024.

The body-cam footage from the police officers who arrived at the scene was included in the pilot episode. The incident has been heavily discussed both on and off the show.

Yet, it was the release of footage from that 2023 incident that seemed to be the deciding factor in whether or not to shelve Taylor’s season of The Bachelorette after a 2026 incident between Taylor and Dakota. Regarding the 2026 incident, the Salt Lake County District Attorney’s office has since declined to file charges against Taylor “because of a lack of evidence.”

I’ve watched the video from 2023, which was leaked to TMZ (presumably by Dakota’s team). It’s three and a half minutes, starting whenever Dakota made the decision to begin filming the altercation. She hits him and kicks him, throws metal stools at him. He says that one of the stools hits Taylor’s daughter, though that isn’t visible in the video (she can be heard crying after one of the stools is thrown). All of these details have been heavily publicized. What I haven’t seen discussed is how Dakota moves toward her daughter—actually placing the couch where she’s sitting between himself and Taylor—after she throws the first stool at him (she goes on to throw two more stools), or how Taylor screams at him to “get away from [her] daughter” as he begins scolding her for not immediately transitioning from her own activated state to tending to her child as soon as she begins crying.

I am not here to pass judgment on who is or isn’t in the wrong, who is or isn’t abusive, who did or didn’t break the law, who is or isn’t a good parent.

And I would like to say that Taylor is, in that video, obviously scared for her child’s safety. To suggest that she is unconcerned with the wellbeing of her children when she is in an activated state seems to me to be disingenuous.

In her newsletter Airplane Mode with Liz Plank, Plank writes in “Momfluencer Faces More Consequences than All Men in Epstein Files Combined” about a similar impression from watching Dakota’s video2 in conversation with the police body-cam footage from that night:

To be clear, what Taylor did in that video is disturbing. Throwing a chair, putting a child at risk, that matters. Consequences for that behavior are not inherently wrong. But it’s impossible to ignore the scale of those consequences when you zoom out and compare them to what happens, or doesn’t happen, to men accused of far worse.

Because here’s the part that I’ve seen getting glossed over in everyone’s takes. Taylor’s team has alleged she spent years experiencing mental and physical abuse, along with threats of retaliation, in that relationship. Authorities have confirmed there are allegations in both directions. He denies everything. And honestly, that’s exactly the point.

That video has been sitting wrong with me, and here’s why. He’s the one filming. He’s the one claiming to be in danger. And yet in the police bodycam footage, he is calm and controlled, narrating the whole thing with an unsettling, almost rehearsed precision, while the woman he says was attacking him can barely speak. She is activated, disregulated, falling apart at the seams, begging police to remove him from her home, while he stands there and narrates calmly and clearly. The contrast feels eerie.

As the conflict between Taylor and Dakota has continued to unfold, I’ve thought a lot about the #MeToo movement. I’m not referring to “Me Too” as activist Tarana Burke envisioned it in 2006, though Burke rarely receives the credit due to her for her activism. Instead, I’m referring to “Me Too” as it has unfolded since Alyssa Milano used the hashtag on Twitter in 2017—the MeToo movement as a white, socially liberal women’s movement.

I’ve seen a lot of people online get very pissed off if you mention that Taylor has alleged years of abuse from Dakota. They say you’re making excuses for her, you’re denying Dakota’s experience of harm, you’re holding men and women to different standards.

This is the issue, the commenters say, with MeToo—it positions all women as victims and all men as aggressors. The movement has gone too far, they say, and when a man is a victim, his allegations are immediately dismissed.

The strangest part of this argument to me is that Taylor herself didn’t dismiss the allegations of her violent behavior during the 2023 incident. She took accountability for her behavior. Not accountability the way the MomTok and DadTok members throw the word around (as a pop psychology term for self-flagellation), but real accountability. On the show, people often say that Taylor doesn’t take accountability, yet I see her do that all the time. She might need time to regulate herself after conflict before she can acknowledge her impact on others and/or apologize (and seriously, who doesn’t?), but she consistently shows up to engage in the work of repair. What was so shocking about the way The Bachelorette played out was that

1. everyone already knew about the 2023 incident

2. Taylor had already pleaded guilty to aggravated assault for that incident

3. Taylor had already fulfilled the coursework assigned to her as part of her plea deal

4. Taylor had already publicly acknowledged multiple times that she regrets her behavior from that time, sees it as her rock bottom, and is committed to continuing to work on herself

But for women, accountability isn’t enough. As Plank writes,

The question is not why one woman threw a chair. Honestly, I’m more perplexed that the rest of us don’t. Given what kind of violence women are subjected to on a daily basis, without consequence for anyone but us, our restraint is what should be making headlines.

And that violent system I’m talking about is very clear!! A reality TV influencer from Utah can lose everything in 48 hours if she’s a woman. Meanwhile, powerful men connected to allegations involving the exploitation of minors continue operating without consequences. Worse, the only person currently sitting in a prison cell for the Epstein case is a woman.

People want Taylor to lose her children, her income, her friends, her life. It’s not enough that she has taken accountability and tried to make amends. The audience has decided that they know Taylor-as-person (not Taylor-as-character), and therefore that they know what punishment she deserves.

This is the MeToo ouroboros. There were splashy headlines when celebrity women began posting their hashtags in 2017. Certain men began to face consequences—Harvey Weinstein, Louis C.K., Sean Combs, Kevin Spacey. But they were neither taking accountability nor attempting to engage in repair. They were angry that their lives were being “ruined,” that they were being punished for participating in behavior in which the majority of the men around them also participated. Then, men insisted that there was a double standard. Men were facing consequences, but what about all the abusive women? Why weren’t they going to prison?

The MeToo movement of 2017 was created within a violent, patriarchal system, and it did not meaningfully challenge that system—focusing instead on individual men’s individual acts of violence. Those in power pretended to play along; men like Weinstein were charged and sentenced, justice was purportedly served. The procedure was thus legitimized within the current dominant systems of power and could (and would) therefore be applied to people regardless of their gender identity—regardless of the specific configurations of power that enable violence.

That transformed the politics of MeToo into a new tool of the patriarchal state, a tool that could be wielded against women and marginalized people. Liberal feminism is not based on equity—it’s based on equality. So, of course, there had to be equal opportunity legal proceedings for intimate partner violence, domestic violence, sexual violence. Johnny Depp versus Amber Heard, Justin Baldoni versus Blake Lively.

Dakota Mortensen versus Taylor Frankie Paul.

The power of MeToo was handed over to the state—to the Epstein class. With the transfer of that power complete, the “consequences” men were facing began to come undone. Weinstein’s rape conviction in New York was overturned. Louis C.K. is performing at the Hollywood Bowl in May for the Netflix Is a Joke Fest, with the special being added to Netflix this summer. Sean Combs’s prison release date has already been moved up twice. Kevin Spacey has settled claims out of court with three men and has been hanging out in Israel, which is a whole other fucking issue.

Plank writes that we “live in a system that has always allowed men to harm women quietly, consistently, and often without consequence, while demanding women remain calm, credible, and perfect at all times. When they fail to meet that impossible standard, the consequences are swift and public. We cancel their shows. We take their kids. We sue them and ruin their careers.” This is where MeToo eats its own tail. Because while the consequences for men come undone, the consequences are made even harsher for women. Any attempt to acknowledge this disparity (dare I say, injustice) will have you branded an abuse apologist. The liberal logic is that you have to support these consequences being enforced on women if you want them to be enforced on men, even though they will not actually be enforced on men. Taylor’s season of The Bachelorette is shelved, while Dakota’s appearance on Alex Cooper’s Unwell Winter Games is fine.3

And just like that, the snake has eaten its tail. The MeToo movement has been appropriated by dominant systems of power, and it is now a weapon of the Epstein class—and a shield for men everywhere.

People act as if the question being debated is whether Taylor should face consequences, when really what’s being asked is why Taylor alone should face consequences, as well as whether the consequences she’s facing are appropriate for the situation (the situation being both what she has done wrong and what she has already done to atone for it).

Taylor is now limited to hours a week of supervised visits with her son, who is currently in Dakota’s custody. The Bachelorette was shelved. Her life is under constant scrutiny, her social media pages flooded with trolls.

Dakota has temporary custody of their son. He has his own reality TV appearances. He has the mechanisms of MeToo-era justice on his side.

Is that fair? Is that right?

I hate the phrase “the court of public opinion” because it implies some form of legitimacy: even if we know logically that the public cannot be the arbiters of justice in this way, even if we use the phrase to say that such treatment is unfair—by using the phrase we reiterate and reinforce the connection between “court” and “public opinion.” We communicate that there is, even if only in a small way, some validity in the general public’s ability to judge a situation.

This is where my various points converge: people feel qualified to pass judgment on Taylor Frankie Paul because of a series of misunderstandings:

• The general public believes they understand the engendered lives of the Mormon wives, but they don’t. These women operate within a specific context that is foreign to the audience—that is, after all, why people want to watch SLOMW to begin with: they’re curious about (and maybe titillated by) a culture that feels unfamiliar and strange to them.

• The general public believes they know who Taylor Frankie Paul is, but they don’t. They don’t know who any of the Mormon wives are as people. New media’s presentation of social media content as real/authentic has contributed to a misunderstanding of the “reality” in reality TV. This is by design—the claim of authentic individual expression underpins social media, which is essential to its success as a capitalist tool because it decentralizes and obfuscates the systems of control at play. Unlike Andy Cohen’s Bravoverse, where we are intimately familiar with the role of the producer, the influencer economy hides the role of the manager from public view.

• The general public believes that the justice system is designed to be just, even when they cognitively understand that power and politics in the US are deeply corrupt. Because the feminist language/logic/optics of MeToo have been absorbed by the state, people believe the system has somehow changed. This is weaponized to oppress women and marginalized people under the guise of equality and justice.

A key part of the judicial system is the gathering of evidence, of facts. The court of public opinion is thus an oxymoron—opinions become facts, and, in this case, we search for those facts within the fictionalized presentations of social media and reality TV. We are searching constructed narratives for concrete truths, but we won’t find them there. And it isn’t our job, responsibility, or right to dig into the real lives of these Mormon wives. (The question of one’s faith in the court’s ability to gather the facts is a different—but equally valid—concern.)

I love reality TV. But I know it isn’t real. It’s constructed, artificial. Do you really think groups of girl friends are getting dolled up to go to a fancy restaurant and torture themselves with a “Truth Box”? No! Of course there are elements of truth in the characters and storylines of reality TV, but that’s true of any form of media. The difference between autofiction and reality TV is that one is seen as a literary art form appreciated by men and the other is seen as trash enjoyed by women (and us gays, let’s not forget about us). I refuse that logic. I love reality TV because it’s one of the genres that I’ve seen most explicitly and consistently engage with cultural concepts of gender—and I know it’s doing so like any other media narrative.

If you’re interested in unpacking people’s engendered lives, understanding real interpersonal dynamics, and weighing in on conflicts, I think you should go talk to your friends. Taylor Frankie Paul isn’t one of them.

I’ve played a lot of Stardew Valley over the years. It’s the perfect escapist fantasy game (and in fact has inspired many real-life changes, including my newfound love of gardening). When you play as much Stardew as I do, you date… most of the eligible bachelor(ette)s. You have to play the field, right??

So, because I’m not one to niche down—you didn’t think I’d only write about reality TV, did you? I hope not—I figured I should mix things up early in the Spill the T universe. This week, I’m presenting you with my ranking of the Stardew bachelor(ette)s by how trans they are in my humble-yet-expert opinion.

methodology

Before you accuse me of being unreasonably vibes-based, I want to assure you that there’s a method to my madness. I have identified several key categories that contribute to the characters’ identity formation, and for each character, I gave them a score on a scale from 1 to 10 in each of those categories (with 10 being super trans and 1 being tragically cis).

The categories are:

• (dream) job—what the character does for work and/or what they talk about wanting to do

• hairstyle

• outfit

• Hobbies—as gleaned from dialogue, room decorations, and any activities you spot them doing

• loved gifts

• fave movies

• fave movie concessions

• ten-heart event

• fourteen-heart event

• farmhouse renovations—what their add-ons look like once you’re married

• regular dialogue

• marriage dialogue

All the category scores are tallied to get the character’s final score. Whoever has the most points wins the distinction of being the most trans (a title to which I feel everyone should aspire).

12. Alex

Ah, Alex. Stardew Valley’s biggest beefcake. I know there are plenty of trans gym bros out there, but Alex isn’t one of them. He ended up with 1s in four different categories! I do respect that his fourteen-heart event is essentially him creating a third space to hang out with his friends—but at the end of the day, it’s really just a man-cave.

You have to respect him trying to unlearn toxic masculinity, but this is cisgender behavior.

Queerest quality: his favorite movies are an “absurd sci-fi comedy” and a horror movie, both of which have the makings of solid queer cult classics

Straightest sin: I’m tempted to say the ten-heart event, which is a dinner date plus violin accompaniment that most straight men will plan for a partner at least once, but really, it’s gotta be the bit of dialogue where he reveals that he threw out shoes with a smudge on them instead of donating them—everyone knows trans people respect the thrift!

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): straight, probably doesn’t know what “cis” means,” trying to be an ally because there are a lot of fruity townsfolk

11. Shane

Shane is the quintessential depressed straight man. His hobbies are drinking beer, complaining, and watching sports, and his favorite gifts are pizza, pepper poppers, and (once again) beer. I do love his eventual journey to recovery, though!

Queerest quality: works at a supermarket while dreaming of being a free-range chicken farmer

Straightest sin: honestly a bit of a dick (and no, depression isn’t an excuse for being a dick)

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): obviously cis, closeted bisexual who only kisses men when he’s drunk, says homophobic shit when he’s feeling defensive

10. Penny

I’ve never actually married Penny because when we were teenagers, my younger brother was adamant that he was the only one who could marry her, and I respect his wishes. She’s a teacher whose favorite gifts are books and diamonds. There’s not much more to say.

Clearly, Penny hasn’t spent any real time interrogating her gender.

Queerest quality: her hair looks like a basic bitch bun, but when she’s looking straight-on, she actually has more of a space bun situation going on

Straightest sin: hooking up in the bathhouse sounds like something straight out of one of my beloved reality TV shows (in fact, it reminds me of something I’m going to be writing about very soooooon)

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): cishet, definitely an ally—but needs a helping hand with some of the traditional views she’s internalized

9. Haley

The valley diva herself. This is a woman who appreciates the finer things in life. Her passion for photography (and for making out in her darkroom) is one of her only hobbies—unless we’re counting shopping, which maybe we are.

Queerest quality: one of her loved gifts is fruit salad… is it a sign? (no, no it isn’t)

Straightest sin: she’s not particularly nice to her (obviously queer) sister, which majorly counts against her

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): cis and straight, though she’s been known to get messy drunk in Zuzu City and make out with girls in the club bathroom on occasion

8. Sam

I have a soft spot for Sam—he’s the first character I ever married. He has a healthy mix of hobbies, including skateboarding, video games, and playing pool. And he works part-time at the supermarket (or the museum when JojaMart closes) while trying to make it big as a musician, which is pretty queer-coded in my opinion. Plus, mullet.

Queerest quality: at one point, you learn that he ordered a pair of shoes online to replace his worn-out ones, and he made sure to get the exact same shoes he already had—my fellow trans folks know how hard it is to find good shoes

Straightest sin: some learned incompetence, like saying he’s only able to cook instant pancakes because “I never learned to cook… mom always did that,” not helping on the farm because he says he feels lazy, choosing to watch TV when he feels like there’s too much to do

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): I think Sam is bisexual—and uses he/they pronouns, more because he hangs out with some of the queerest people in the valley than because he has really thought about his gender

7. Maru

Maru is an autistic queen, which we love. The stargazing dates are sweet, albeit a bit unromantic. And her dialogue can skew a bit tech bro-y, but that’s okay. She did lose points for one of her heart events feeling too much like the Gen AI bullshit.

We’re all thinking it, right?!

Queerest quality: the nurse/inventor combo is giving “transfem who loves The Matrix”

Straightest sin: most of her loved gifts are expensive as hell, which is not particularly class-conscious of her

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): nonbinary and aromantic

6. Harvey

Everyone’s favorite airplane enthusiast / doctor. Harvey is a man who enjoys his special interests and life’s simple pleasures: building model plans, reading, going to the library, walking around the park, and going to aerobics classes with the girlies. And his mop of hair has the windswept almost-comb-over look of a trans man who should start taking finasteride.

Queerest quality: the hot air balloon date, not just because of how much time he clearly put into it but because he openly discusses his fear and admits that he’s leaning on your courage

Straightest sin: he talks way too much about work

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): trans man (but stealth) and gay

5. Elliott

Maybe it’s just because I’m a trans aspiring novelist, but I think there’s something pretty queer about living alone in a cabin on the beach to try to write your novel. His hobby score was on the lower side because he doesn’t have a lot of range as far as how he likes to spend his days—as someone who procrastinates writing, I have a LOT of activities that I do instead. Also, have you seen his hair? He also has some incredible dialogue, including:

Queerest quality: his favorite gifts include duck feathers (to make colorful quills), pomegranate, and tom kha gai

Straightest sin: a bit full of himself

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): I almost went with he/him lesbian, but my final answer is transmasc pansexual, lover of the world

4. Sebastian

Lives in his parents’ basement and is always on that damn computer, either working or playing video games. Sebastian is Stardew’s resident emo. He feels like his mom and step-father love his half-sister, Maru, more than him. Could it be because… transgender?

Queerest quality: saves an injured frog, then makes it his whole personality

Straightest sin: gives you a beer on New Year’s Eve… suspicious

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): he/they transmasc, asexual

3. Leah

A working artist in the woods who fled the city to get away from her shitty ex. That’s a queer backstory if I’ve ever heard one! She goes into a doom-spiral any time she steps on a bug and burns her sculptures if she doesn’t think they’re good. I love a lady with a flair for the dramatic.

That’s so true, Leah—some people have opinions that you really just can’t respect. Like transphobia.

Queerest quality: asking someone to stop by if they want to curl up under one of your quilts with a warm mug of cider has to be one of the gayest pickup lines I’ve ever heard

Straightest sin: a bit pretentious about all her locally grown salads

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): she/her transfem lesbian

2. Abigail

Abigail has purple hair and an “alternative lifestyle” with the hobbies to show for it: an interest in the occult, exploring the caves, video games, playing her flute in the woods. Also, she has a guinea pig named David, which just feels like a gay name for a guinea pig.

That’s my clocky queen!

Queerest quality: “Hi. Want to hang out for a while? Here! Let me read your palm. *giggle*” has to be the most t-girl pickup line out there

Straightest sin: gets along with her dad too well, even though he’s kind of an ass

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): also she/her transfem lesbian

1. Emily

Emily is the “blue hair and pronouns” blueprint. She and her friend Sandy have definitely explored each other’s bodies. Being a bartender / tailor speaks to a queer sensibility, as does her pet parrot and the crystal garden she builds in your backyard when you get married. One of her heart events is trying to help the townspeople express their true selves through clothing—did someone say experimenting with your gender expression? And when you go on a date with her, the two of you go camping and share a sleeping bag.

Queerest quality: all of her desserts are raw, gluten-free, and sweetened with cactus syrup, and when you have kids together, she makes them organic quinoa puffs with goat milk for breakfast

Straightest sin: the fact that she technically is named Emily and uses she/her pronouns—but that’s not her fault!

Identity (as assigned by yours truly): nonbinary and pansexual, uses they/them pronouns

So, there you have it! Do you agree with my takes? Have strong opinions of your own? Drop a comment and let me know.

My husband asked me that while watching an episode of [insert reality tv show here]. I’m not being coy—it’s a question we ask each other a lot, while watching a lot of different shows.

We haven’t been correct, of course; transfemmes are unfortunately not being cast to star in reality shows, though the world would be a better place if they were. In fact, it may be some wishful thinking on our part, a hope that trans people have made their way into the genre I love so dearly (and my husband has generously embraced because true love, etc.).

We would most likely be called “clocky” ourselves—we’re both transmasc, but only I have had top surgery or spent any time on testosterone, and I’m only five-foot-four, so most people aren’t looking at me and thinking, “that’s a man right there.” My husband still identifies with his pre-transition dyke roots, and I identified as a fag before I identified as a man. Well-meaning liberals usually assume we’re a lesbian couple, and more conservative folks… well, they usually just stare at us, so I’m not sure what they’re thinking.

Reality television is our entry point into straight culture. Specifically: millennial/gen z class-unconscious straight culture. Such culture isn’t entirely foreign to me; I did spend my teen years as a bi girl who dated boys. However, I was never the sort of girl who you’d see on a reality show—I was definitely what you’d call a geek/nerd/loser, with copious social anxiety and a schedule full of AP classes. My husband, who has only ever dated one man (me!) and was never a participant in straight culture, doesn’t even have as limited a personal point of reference as I have to work with. He regularly calls dating reality series “the state of the union for straight relationships.” None of this information is particularly relevant to this essay, but I’m including it because I think it provides some additional context to our experience of the world, and by extension, of reality tv.

My husband and I know the women of reality tv aren’t dolls. Yet, we can’t help but ask sometimes: is she a doll? Because there’s no denying it—the baddies look like dolls!

I know we aren’t alone in this observation, though a lot of the discourse I’ve seen around the topic has come from a very cishet perspective, which is to say, a transphobic perspective.

One recent example is the trolling of Jessi Draper.

Last year, the Secret Lives of Mormon Wives star—and one of my personal favorite reality stars of the moment—posted an Instagram story:

“Just a gentle reminder that it’s never ok to comment on a woman’s post ‘you’re looking more transgender by the day’ or ‘your features are so masculine.’”

Personally, I don’t agree with that position; it comes from a place of internalized transphobia. Why is the idea of looking like a trans person so horrible that it would make you feel “very emo today and want to never post again”? Sure, I’m biased, but I think trans people are hot as fuck!

Still. Jessi is decisively cisgender. If she doesn’t like being called masculine or told she looks trans, that’s well within her right. And I don’t know anyone who actually thinks she looks masculine.

She followed up the first Instagram story with another one, captioned:

“I have a defined jaw line because of a TMJ surgery I got and I swear it’s the number one thing people tell me makes me look like a man. Sorry Karen, I can’t control that?! I also get roasted for getting plastic surgery done but then get endless comments about my looks that make me more insecure so you can never win.”

I don’t think Jessi looks like a man. But I think she—and dozens, if not hundreds, of women on reality shows—looks like a doll.

Facial feminization surgery is actually an array of plastic surgery procedures, unique to each patient, “to create a more feminine appearance of the face for patients undergoing gender affirmation treatment.” The list of possible procedures includes:

• forehead and hairline contouring to create a more heart- or oval-shaped face and/or reduce the bony ridge above the eyes

• brow lift to give the eyes a more feminine appearance

• blepharoplasty (an eyelid lift) to open the eyes and, again, give them a more feminine appearance

• rhinoplasty (a nose job) to reduce the width and shape of the nose

• mandibular angle recontouring to create a gentler angle between ear and chin

• genioplasty to create a less prominent chin

• chondrolaryngoplasty (tracheal shave) to reduce the size of an Adam’s apple

• liposuction and facial fat grafting to add volume to any sunken areas, including sculpting cheeks for a rounder shape

• injectables and fillers to augment the lips or shape contours around the mouth or eyes

• laser hair removal

Trans women often undergo facial feminization surgery to achieve transition goals related to their appearance.

Cis women, though they don’t call it facial feminization surgery, also undergo an array of plastic surgery procedures to achieve goals related to their appearance. Jessi, for example, has had a lower and upper blepharoplasty, facial fat grafting, botox, injections to slim her chin fat, and a rhinoplasty to reduce the size of her nostrils. She’s also had four boob jobs and a labiaplasty.

And that’s her right! I am a firm believer in bodily autonomy; if someone wants to get surgery to make themselves feel more comfortable in their own body, that’s their prerogative. I did that—I had my tits chopped off, and it was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

But—I’m going to hold your hand as I say this, cishet women—you can’t be upset by the idea that you look like transfemmes if you get the same surgical procedures for the same reasons and with the same desired outcomes.

The easiest comparison I can make is to Barbie. Every Barbie looks the same, even if they have slight differences, like the color of their hair or makeup, because they use the same base model. They have the same starting point of beauty—the same aspirational appearance.

We live in a time of Barbie beauty standards. This isn’t news to anyone, is it? We’ve all been talking about unrealistic beauty standards for years.

I think sometimes there’s this misconception that gender-affirming plastic surgery for trans people is simply to make their gender expression align with their identity. For me, that logic would be, I got top surgery to look like a man. A trans woman might get FFS “to look like a woman.” But we all know that there are many ways to look like a woman or a man. Gender expression is unique to every individual. If I identify as a man, my husband identifies as a man, my cis brother identifies as a man, my cis father identifies as a man—we all look like men because we are men. So, I reject the idea that I got top surgery to “look like a man.” Actually, I got top surgery because it made me feel good! It made me feel happier, more attractive, more confident. In the same vein, a trans woman isn’t getting FFS to “look like a woman.” She’s getting FFS because it makes her feel sexy, confident, pretty, beautiful, happy—whatever adjective suits her best.

That’s the same reason why cis women get FFS. They want to feel sexy, confident, pretty, beautiful, happy, etc.

The idealized beauty standards of womanhood—the Barbie base model—are the same regardless of what genitals you had when you were born. So, if you’re aspiring to that standard of beauty, and you ask your plastic surgeon to help you achieve it, they’ll do their best to accomplish that. A trans woman and a cis woman who aspire to the same beauty standards and get plastic surgery are going to look increasingly similar to one another because they are working toward the same “goal” for their looks.

Whether or not you think the beauty standards to which people are aspiring are reasonable or fair, that doesn’t give you the right to police what they decide to do with their bodies. There’s nothing wrong with plastic surgery. I support gender-affirming care for all people because I think everyone deserves to feel confident, happy, and attractive.

I don’t think Jessi looks like a man—and I don’t believe anyone else thinks she does, either. I think Jessi looks like a woman who has had plastic surgery. And a significant number of women who have had plastic surgery are trans women. If you are a woman who has had plastic surgery, regardless of whether you’re cis or trans, you’re going to look more like other women who have had plastic surgery than you are like women who haven’t.

The issue I have is that cis people won’t admit that what they’re doing with their bodies is gender-affirming care. Gender expression is in a lot of ways about your physical appearance—it’s about the image you present to the world, how people perceive you. If you are changing the way you look to feel better about yourself and the way you move through the world, that’s gender-affirming care. Cis and trans people alike can have plastic surgery, hormone replacement therapy, new wardrobes, makeup tutorials, hair dyes and extensions, etc. That’s gender-affirming care!

Obviously, it would benefit the trans community to have cis people acknowledge that they, too, participate in gender-affirming care because it would recontextualize the term so that cis people would have to confront why they aren’t speaking up to defend such care.

But it would also benefit cis people to acknowledge that they receive gender-affirming care (frequently!) because it would clarify their own decision-making. Jessi, for example, regrets some of her most recent surgical procedures. She wasn’t getting work done because she thought it would affirm her own gender expression and make her feel confident, happy, and attractive. She felt pressured by her soon-to-be-ex-husband and Internet trolls. If cis people thought about their decisions to get plastic surgery through the lens of gender-affirming care, they would have to ask themselves the sorts of questions that trans people are generally required to ask themselves. To get top surgery, I had to demonstrate that it would improve my quality of life—that it would make me feel confident, happy, and attractive. I couldn’t just walk into a surgeon’s office and ask for surgery; I had to go to a therapist for an evaluation of my mental fitness. I don’t think that’s a reasonable burden to make people deal with, but I do think asking yourself critical questions about why you want surgery serves a purpose.

I also think people like Jessi should ask themselves why it’s so upsetting to them to think that they look like a trans person. What makes your aspirational womanhood different from a transfemme’s? What does it mean to you to “look trans”? What do you think trans people look like?

The baddies want to be dolls, whether they admit it or not. I’m not surprised—the dolls are gorgeous, funny, charming, sexy, beautiful. Whether they get surgery or not! I think there’s something really attractive about putting thought into how you show up in the world and choosing to do so in ways that make you feel good. It would do cis women a lot of good to aspire to that level of self-possession, more than to any particular beauty standard.

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If you’re not familiar, here’s the rundown: Love Overboard is a new dating show hosted by Gabby Windey, in which singles try to find love on a yacht in the Mediterranean. They think that’s all they signed up for, but they quickly learn that:

1. they will all be forced to navigate class dynamics (which are normally conveniently hand-waved away in the “sexy singles are contained in an insular space” subgenre of dating shows) because only 4 couples can enjoy the luxurious yacht at a time—everyone else has to bunk in the bottom of the boat and work to create the aforementioned luxury!

2. when a single has the chance to take a “topsider” on a date, the topsider must, upon returning from the date, immediately decide whether to stick with the person they were coupled up with before or to give their new connection a go—forcing whoever isn’t chosen to walk the plank (AKA to be dropped trap-door style into the sea), removing them from the competition

There are plenty of twists and turns, other ways to move up top, etc., but that’s the basics. If you’re working class like me, you will love seeing how these people react when they learn they have to do incredibly hard manual labor like dusting, pouring drinks, and cleaning bathrooms. (Yes, tears are shed.)

BUT. None of that is what I’m here to write about today. I’m here to talk about Andrew: the “alpha male” freak who I love to watch the same way I loved watching my pet worms as a kid.

Andrew is one of the most delusional people I’ve seen on reality TV in a while. I can only assume he is an Andrew T*te fan—he’s definitely listening to lots of podcasts—and he has decided he’s an alpha male and should be treated as such. I swear to god, a woman appeals to him on the plank not by confessing her love, but by saying the other girl has been lying about liking him and it would not be very alpha male of him to still pursue her! And it works! Hilarious.

Now, a fun fact about me: when I’m not watching trashy television, I’m studying to become a counselor. After an evening of watching Love Overboard, I sat down the next morning to do my schoolwork. The assigned reading? A chapter on psychoanalytical therapy. Let me just say, I am NOT a Freud fan. Psychoanalysis isn’t my jam. I think it’s crazy that we all have to study this dude’s work just because he did so damn much writing on his theory that because he hated his dad and wanted to fuck his mom, everyone else must have the same issues. But whatever, I’m a good student so I do my reading.

However.

When I read through the list of ego-defense mechanisms, let me tell you—Andrew appeared before me like the Ghost of TV Past/Present/Future/Whatever. Like, every single one of them! So, without further ado, I present for your entertainment:

Freud’s Ego-Defense Mechanisms as Illustrated by Andrew from Love Overboard

Note: I’m only on episode 7, so there could be some revelations that change my mind on this guy (though I doubt it).

Also, these are in no particular order EXCEPT I will be saving the best for last. Let that tempt you to read through til the end (or just scroll to that one if you want to be RUDE).

repression

excluding threatening or painful thoughts and feelings from your awareness

This is one of the more subconscious defense mechanisms. In our dear Andrew, we see it in his complete and total unawareness that not one woman on that yacht is even remotely attracted to him or that he is not actually attractive to women as a partner. He has the most unearned confidence I’ve ever seen a man possess.

denial

refusing the existence of a threatening aspect of reality

When people first try to tell Andrew that Sofia isn’t interested in him, he refuses to believe it. Enna does eventually get through to him with her “alpha male” commentary.

reaction formation

developing and expressing conscious attitudes and behaviors that are diametrically opposed to threatening or disturbing impulses

For all Andrew’s bravado, he has so far formed only one friendship: Enna. I believe that for at least some of those alpha male types, they have a degree of fear in what their worldview means for their ability to connect with others (*cough* male loneliness epidemic *cough*). I think internalized patriarchy and misogyny are threatening impulses—even if someone doesn’t believe those ideas are bad, I think there’s an unconscious knowledge that holding those ideas is pushing them further away from the thing they consciously want, a relationship. In Freudian terms, the id is threatening the ego by propelling misogynistic, patriarchal impulses. So, Andrew has become friends with Enna, treating her as respectfully as he can, even though he does not feel attracted to her, because he wants to deny his impulse for how to treat women (which we see in the way he talks to Sofia—not showing any interest in her as a person, objectifying her, bragging about himself).

projection

attributing one’s own unacceptable impulses and desires to others—a self-deception

Andrew doesn’t want to get to know Sofia as a human because his impulse is misogynistic. When she doesn’t want to get to know him as a potential romantic partner, he projects his apathy toward seeing women as real people onto the uninterested woman—now she is the uncaring person, unwilling to see him as his whole self. It couldn’t possibly be that she has seen him and just isn’t interested.

displacement

directing energy toward another object or person when the original is inaccessible

Another way of thinking about displacement is shifting your impulse to a “safer” target. In Andrew’s case, this is mocking and criticizing the men in whom the women he likes are actually interested. He can’t insult the woman—he’d be accused of misogyny by all the women on the yacht, who would then ostracize him. So, he redirects his anger onto the men, who he can criticize through the lens of competition. The clearest example is when he mocks another contestant for having minimal body hair (Andrew is very proud of his chest hair, let me tell you).

rationalization

manufacturing “good” reasons to explain away one’s bruised ego

When the woman Andrew is pursuing clearly chooses another man (by making out with him in a bottom-deck bunk bed), Andrew declares that actually, he isn’t interested in her. He’s too mature for her, apparently.

(Also, he lowkey spies on them, which is weird AF!)

sublimation

diverting sexual or aggressive energy into other, generally socially acceptable, behaviors

There’s truly no better way to describe Andrew’s obsession with working out. He does a lot of flexing. You know what they say: if you give a man a defined bicep, he’ll want a mirror to go with it!

introjection

taking in and uncritically accepting others’ values and standards

This one has the least specific example because *waves hands* just look at the whole fucking show! Andrew has uncritically accepted dominant cultural values (patriarchy, capitalism). Also, they all just accepted the rules of the game—introjection is an essential part of being the kind of person who can be on a competition dating show.

identification

identifying with successful causes, organizations, or people in the hopes of being perceived as worthwhile

Exhibit A—this is the heart of the topsiders/downsiders dynamic: every person on this yacht has decided that 1) being a topsider is the only way to have fun in this experience, and 2) they all are topsiders on a fundamental level. Andrew is the man who takes this to the max, by declaring that he doesn’t do chores in his real life, and in fact he has other people [read: women] do chores for him.

Exhibit B—alpha male.

compensation

masking perceived weaknesses or developing certain positive traits to make up for limitations

Andrew may not be able to get any of the women to like him, but at least he’s, like, such a fast swimmer! Boy, does he brag about his swimming ability helping him win a challenge—the only way he could make it topside, since he can’t win over a woman.

Now, last but not least…

regression

going back to an earlier phase of development when there were fewer demands—clinging to immature or inappropriate behavior when faced with severe stress

Oh. My. God. When I tell y’all about Andrew’s hair.

Andrew gets increasingly agitated by the fact that it’s been a while since he had a haircut from his preferred barber in NY. Like, won’t shut up about it. So a stylist on the crew (the production crew, not the downsiders lol) gives him a haircut that is genuinely identical before and after, and Andrew freaks the fuck out because she has apparently ruined his sideburns? He mopes on a lower bunk during happy hour, missing his chance to flirt because he is repeatedly demanding that production let him call his mother. Yes, you read that right—Andrew needs to call his mommy.

And they let him! Andrew calls his mom, who is immediately like “uh, what do you want me to do about that? You’re in a different country???” The two of them go at it for a while, until I guess she convinces him to walk it off, and he finally goes above deck to join the group.

Must-see TV, truly.

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