True story, p.25
True Story, page 25
Throughout its history, the genre has shown us types of people we don’t often see on scripted TV. And while their representations can be problematic, these stars also use their creativity and tenacity to work within, expose, and finagle their own stereotyping. When we view it with a sociological imagination, reality TV reveals the immense power of social structures, institutions, and cultural narratives to constrain us. But it also shows us how our past doesn’t have to define us—or else we would always remain the same. Often on the vanguard of new social and technological developments, from changes in marriage to multiplatform branding, the genre reveals how we feel the pressure of societal expectations but also how we move around under that pressure, putting our heads down and plunging forward. While the mirror magnifies our flaws, it also showcases the extreme arcs of our beauty, how we move, and how we evolve.
THE REALITY OF REALITY TV
When I tell people that I teach a college class on the sociology of reality TV, they often ask, “Is it about how the shows are all fake?” The class isn’t about that, though it doesn’t ignore the fact that reality shows—casted, curated, manipulated, edited, and packaged—bear the smudgy thumbprints of their creators. They’re just like any other cultural products in that sense.
Still, the question of whether reality shows are “really real” misses the mark and does a disservice to what these shows can actually teach us. In the end, unscripted programming teaches us that all reality is socially constructed. The genre exposes how we make designations about what is “real”—designations that we then turn around and perceive as universal and innate. In its raw and heightened portrayals of the norms we create and pass down to our children, it peels back our collective skin and shows us, bloody and messy, the things that we value, who gets to be seen as real, and who doesn’t stand a chance. But then it rears back and shows us that what it means to be “real” is, in fact, ambiguous. Once we peer into the face of that ambiguity, we’re better able to see the unstable social fictions that more broadly dominate our lives.
What we experience as reality, often, is not universal and static but a shifting amalgam like Countess LuAnn. Who and what get to be seen as legitimate? Who takes a seat within the core of society, and who is confined to the margins? What constitutes an authentic family or a real childhood? Who’s allowed to be mean? How do we think about women and sexuality and racial minorities and wealth and our own bodies and what’s tasteful and what’s not? Reality television teaches us how the categories and meanings we use to organize our worlds are built on unsteady ground. These designations are “real” in the sense that they have significant repercussions—how high we ascend in the educational system, how much we earn, where we live, how healthy we are, how much other people respect us, and when we die. They’re real in terms of how we think about our own identities. But they aren’t “real” in the sense of historically transcendent and immutable. Ultimately, the genre exposes how our “reality” is largely a social reality—something humans created.
Furthermore, if we learned anything from Donald Trump’s tenure in the White House, it’s this: one thing that’s “really real” about unscripted programming is its impact. Not only did starring on The Apprentice perhaps help propel Trump to the White House, and not only did the president employ techniques from the genre to buffer his popularity, but his presidency arguably became a reality show. Ultimately, during the waning days of his administration, we watched in real time as he whipped his followers into a lather. Windows were shattered, lives were lost, and the event left an indelible mark: in a historic move, Trump was impeached for a second time. Trump’s role in the insurrection at the Capitol was a particularly extreme example of the consequences that can ensue when entertainment and reality are indistinguishably fused in an ouroboros.
But as we’ve seen, by looking at such extreme examples, we can better understand social processes that are happening more regularly on a smaller scale. And the Trump presidency has been far from the only reality show to have social repercussions. The genre has influenced disparate areas, ranging from teen pregnancy rates to prison reform and the genesis of “Instagram star” as a profession. Some scholarship has drawn connections between the genre and surveillance culture. Mark Andrejevic, for example, has observed that reality TV “works neatly as an advertisement for the benefits of submission to comprehensive surveillance in an era in which such submission is increasingly productive.”20 Reality TV isn’t solely responsible for this culture, but it arguably functions as a tool of this culture and as a key site where we can see this surveillance happening. Notably, Andrejevic made this claim back in 2004—on the cusp of Facebook (2004) and before Twitter (2006), before Edward Snowden and WikiLeaks and Russian bots and the DNC email hack and the online algorithms that know women are pregnant before their families do.21 Today, we live our lives publicly in unprecedented ways, not only primed for our own surveillance but also actively participating in it in a plurality of ways. As Kim Kardashian has pointed out, when asked about the media’s objectification of women, “Even if I’m objectifying myself, I feel good about it.”22
Though we’re not all storming the Capitol with zip ties in hand, there are other connections between the material on these shows and how we engage with the world. One study of nearly five hundred adolescents over three years found that girls who watched Temptation Island, The Bachelor, or Joe Millionaire were more likely to communicate with one another about sexuality and that boys who watched were more likely to be sexually active.23 Other research has found that watching programs such as Real Housewives, 16 and Pregnant, and Keeping Up with the Kardashians was connected to young adults’ ideas about gender and relationships. For instance, “heavy viewers” of these shows “were more likely to think females in the real world engage in inappropriate behaviors (e.g., arguing, gossip) more than males.”24 These viewers were also more likely to overestimate the extent to which real-life romantic relationships involve conflict.25 Another study found that people who heavily consumed TV shows, like Keeping Up with the Kardashians, “that valorize and regularly portray wealth, fame, and luxury” are “significantly more materialistic and anti-welfare than lighter consumers.”26 Viewers of reality TV are more likely than nonviewers to have one-night stands;27 to use tanning lamps and to tan outdoors;28 to drink alcohol;29 to go hot-tubbing on dates;30 and to engage in online activity such as blogging, video sharing, and social media use.31
While correlation is not causation—that is, maybe the types of people who gravitate toward hot tubs and tanning lamps are also the types of people more likely to enjoy reality TV—it’s not out of the question that the genre also encourages such behaviors. One study of college students, for instance, found that some men watch reality programs in order to learn more about dating.32 In another study, viewers explicitly said that makeover TV had induced them to consider plastic surgery.33 Other research, discussed throughout this book, has directly shown causal links between these shows and the lifestyles and values of the people who watch.34
And perhaps none of this is surprising, as media psychologists have long demonstrated that the TV we watch contributes to our beliefs about the world. “Cultivation theory,” an approach to media established by the communication scholar George Gerbner, argues that “the more time people spend ‘living’ in the TV world, the more likely they are to believe social reality is congruent with TV reality.”35 Unscripted programming is now nearly half of that TV.36 It would be astounding if it hadn’t impacted our lives. Love it or bemoan it, gobble it up or wrinkle your nose and push it away, it’s a part of us now. It is an echo of our culture, but it’s also potent, moving us in various ways. And it can actually impact us for the better. The ethicist Deni Elliott has argued, for instance, that despite its problems, reality programming can be used as a tool for greater inclusivity. Through this genre, people can look into lives different from their own, better understand their own values, and engage in democratic action.37
Now, to be clear, none of this gets into the ethics of the production of these shows. As a viewer, I don’t feel good when Bachelor contestants are filmed too drunk to stand or when true crime programs mine entertainment from survivors’ pain. And the filming process can be brutal to the crews as well as the performers on reality TV. As we know, these relatively low-budget productions tend not to employ paid actors or unionized crews—a context potentially ripe for exploitation. For instance, programs such as Top Chef, The Real Housewives of Orange County, The Bachelorette, and Big Brother continued to film during the height of COVID-19. As one field producer who had worked on popular reality shows told Vanity Fair in September 2020, “Producers and crews already have been treated like they’re expendable in this industry since it started. COVID is just another hoop for production companies and networks to navigate through as cheaply and as quickly as they possibly can.”38 While morality is not the topic of this particular book (recall Simmel’s point about how sociology does not “complain or condone”), it is important to look at the assembly and dissemination of these shows with—at the very least—a critical ethical eye.
Still, we’ve seen how the genre gives voice to people who might not otherwise have a platform. More broadly, Kathryn Lofton suggests that one reason we should care about popular culture is that while it can catalyze disaster, as in the cases of the propaganda historically deployed by fascists, it can also enable meaningful social change.39 By magnifying our faults, reality TV can spur us to behave differently. When Julie first stepped out of that cab and into that loft in New York City, she became part of something that would alter our lives. This genre has been our background noise, for many of us, since childhood; we sway with its rhythms, which have grown progressively louder and don’t promise to go away.
As a final note, it is my hope that this book has inspired you to stop and listen more closely to that music—to think about not only the dynamics of these programs but also those at work in other media and in our everyday lives. To interrogate what purpose they serve. And to understand that sometimes the better question is not what’s “really real” but how our existing notions of what’s real and true are generated. Because while this guilty pleasure is demonstrably unhealthy for us in some ways, it’s also a site for deep reflection about who we are as a culture, the places we’ve been, and where we want to go next.
Notes
Complete bibliographic information can be found in the References section.
INTRODUCTION
1. Kaufman 2018, 21.
2. Johnson 2000.
3. Bell 2010, 8.
4. Dehnart 2018.
5. Koppel 2001.
6. Statista 2016.
7. Lundy, Ruth, and Park 2008.
8. Gerbner 1969; Signorielli and Morgan 1996, 117.
9. Gerbner et al. 1986.
10. Gerbner et al. 1986, 18.
11. Montemurro 2008, 84.
12. Butler 1999, 175–76.
13. Becker 1963; Durkheim [1895] 2002; Epstein 1994; Goffman [1961] 2017.
14. Domoff et al. 2012, 993.
15. Kearney and Levine 2015.
16. Corner 2002.
17. Murray and Ouellette 2009, 4.
18. Huff 2006, 10.
19. Lenig 2017.
20. Pozner 2010, 281–82.
21. Kaufman 2013.
22. Pozner 2010, 285.
23. Lenig 2017, 3.
24. Montemurro 2008; Murray and Ouellette 2009.
25. Blickley 2018.
26. Bignell 2005; Biressi and Nunn 2005; Cummings 2002; Holmes and Jermyn 2004; Kavka 2012; Kilborn 1994; Montemurro 2008; Murray 2004; Roth 2003.
27. Kilborn 1994.
28. Nabi et al. 2006.
29. Calvert 2000.
30. Lundy, Ruth, and Park 2008; Papacharissi and Mendelson 2007.
31. Lenig 2017, 12; Papacharissi and Mendelson 2007.
32. Stefanone, Lackaff, and Rosen 2010.
33. Edwards 2013.
34. Kaufman 2018, 102.
35. Kaufman 2018, 164.
36. Horton and Wohl 1956.
37. Punyanunt-Carter 2010.
38. Rose and Wood 2005, 284, drawing on Baudrillard 1983.
39. Deery 2004, 1.
40. Deery 2012, 2.
41. Plaugic 2017.
42. Kaufman 2018, 225.
43. Deery 2012, 2.
44. Thomas and Swaine Thomas 1928, 572.
45. Abt and Mustazza 1997; Gamson 1998; Grindstaff 2002.
46. Arnovitz 2004.
47. Brown 2016.
48. Kaufman 2018.
49. Papacharissi and Mendelson 2007.
50. Adalian 2011.
51. Obama 2018.
52. Lofton 2017, 21.
53. Simmel [1903] 1971, 339.
54. Lundy, Ruth, and Park 2008.
1. “DON’T BE ALL, LIKE, UNCOOL” (THE SELF)
1. The Real World 1992a.
2. Mills 1959.
3. Durkheim [1901] 1982, 52.
4. Durkheim [1897] 1951.
5. Mills 1959, 3.
6. Ouellette and Hay 2008; Weber 2009.
7. Simmel [1903] 1971, 329.
8. Breaking Amish 2012.
9. Simmel [1903] 1971, 326.
10. Durkheim [1901] 1982, 56.
11. Chudnofsky 2013.
12. Cooley 1922, 184.
13. Goffman 1959.
14. Murray and Ouellette 2009, 2.
15. Suggitt 2018.
16. Turner 2006.
17. Davis 2017; see also Warner 2015.
18. Pickens 2015, 41.
19. Kaufman 2018, 164.
20. Edwards 2013, 20.
21. The Real Housewives of New York City 2008.
22. The Real Housewives of New York City 2015a.
23. Gold 2015.
24. Dodes 2018.
25. The Real Housewives of New York City 2015b.
26. Rouse 2015.
27. The Real Housewives of New York City 2018.
28. Dodes 2018.
29. West and Zimmerman 1987, 128.
30. Valenzuela, Halpern and Katz 2014.
31. Goffman 1959.
32. Mead [1934] 1994.
2. “HERE FOR THE RIGHT REASONS” (COUPLES)
1. The Bachelor 2015.
2. Parker 2020.
3. Porter 2019.
4. Moors et al. 2013.
5. Krueger, Heckhausen, and Hundertmark 1995; Byrne and Carr 2005.
6. Bailey 1989.
7. Bailey 1989, 98.
8. The Bachelor 2014.
9. McNearney 2017.
10. Eastwick and Finkel 2008.
11. Cleveland, Fisher, and Sawyer 2015.
12. Bailey 1989, 94.
13. Fein and Schneider 1995.
14. The Millionaire Matchmaker 2008.
15. Bailey 1989, 87.
16. Wade 2017.
17. Bogle 2008; England and Thomas 2006; Wade 2017.
18. England and Thomas 2006, 147.
19. Yapalater 2016.
20. Yapalater 2016.
21. E. Johnson 2016.
22. Cato and Carpentier 2010.
23. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rjPVo564uxE.
24. Gardner 2012.
25. Ahmed and Matthes 2016; Durrheim et al. 2005; Gopaldas and Siebert 2018.
26. Dubrofsky 2006, 39.
27. Geiger and Livingston 2018.
28. Geiger and Livingston 2018; Michael et al. 1994; Wilcox and Wang 2017.
29. Ryan and Bauman 2016; Williams and Emamdjomeh 2018.
30. Fiore and Donath 2005; Lin and Lundquist 2013.
31. Bialik 2017.
32. Aurthur 2017.
33. Coontz 2005, 5–6.
34. Cherlin 2004.
35. Cherlin 2004, 851.
36. Cherlin 2009.
37. 90 Day Fiancé: Happily Ever After? 2018.
38. Hagi 2017.
39. Roca 2017.
40. Longo 2018, 469.
41. Longo 2018, 469.
42. Pearce, Clifford, and Tandon 2011.
