Illustration by Andrés Murillo.
Originally published in print September 2020.
If an unhealthy amount of daytime television during lockdown has taught me anything, it’s that all reality TV shows mainly centre around two things: love and career success. These qualities are exactly what makes them so inspirational, and often so fantastical, to viewers everywhere watching as people’s lives play out in ways that we could never imagine for ourselves. Unfortunately for everyone involved, this is exactly the point. Reality shows, despite what their name would suggest, thrive on manufactured drama where ratings trump real-life consequences, repeatedly resulting in dire effects on both sides of the screen.
Prime examples of such shows include the British summer ‘bang-fest’, Love Island, and the long-running competition series America’s Next Top Model. Both shows are guilty of perpetuating narrow-minded stereotypes and beauty standards to viewers, particularly aimed at women. In 2019, after much backlash for their lack of body diversity, Love Island contestant Anna Vakili was hyped up by producers as the first ever ‘plus-size’ contestant, despite having an hourglass figure and flat stomach. She was undoubtedly a far cry from what many would consider plus-size, leading to countless social media posts from viewers now needlessly questioning their own weight. This portrayal also certainly had an impact on young girls tuning in every night who might be more vulnerable to issues with self-esteem and self-worth.
These stereotypes and standards aren’t just pushed upon the viewers. The majority of ANTM contestants have been subjected to mandatory makeovers over the course of the show, after being told that their natural beauty is ‘not marketable’. In addition, models who objected to these drastic changes, notably women of colour, were lambasted by the judges, labelled as ‘angry’ and ‘difficult’. In one instance in 2004, contestant Yaya DaCosta (now an accomplished actress appearing on Chicago Med) was berated for embracing her natural beauty, and told that her “intensity to prove her ‘African-ness’” was “too overbearing”. After her eloquent and polite rebuttal she was simply dismissed as “defensive” and “condescending” by head judge Tyra Banks, the host of a show that supposedly stood for empowerment.
Although these harmful depictions can subconsciously distort our expectations of society, there’s yet a darker side to reality TV. Former Love Island contestants Sophie Gradon and Mike Thalassitis both took their own lives a few years after appearing on the series. While it’s undeniable that there were many contributing factors in these circumstances, both Gradon and Thalassitis, like many islanders, faced online bullying and harassment in response to their TV appearances. In one of her final interviews, Gradon said, “there would be so many negative comments. They are commenting on the way you look, the way you talk. They would come up with an opinion of you on a TV show where they’ve watched you for 45 minutes”. These tragedies led many to criticise Love Island’s lack of support services for these young people suddenly thrust into the spotlight, prompting them to update their guidelines to include therapy sessions and prolonged contact with contestants upon their return home.
While many of the negative aspects of reality TV are rooted in society itself, programmes like Love Island and ANTM do little to distance themselves from them and promote positive change. Instead, they embrace them – stoking trials by fire on social media and promoting unrealistic ideals with little oversight. With tighter regulations and warnings for younger, more impressionable viewers placed on these programmes, we may be able to stop the blurring of the line between reality TV and real life.
