The Bachelor: the show that rewards white mediocrity time and time again
At this point in my life, I wouldn’t describe myself as a superfan of ‘The Bachelor’ but this hasn’t always been the case. I was on of those viewers who wore my devotion to the show like a huge badge of honor. To provide a snippet, 8 - 10pm on Monday nights were a no-go timeslot for me because this is when The Bachelor / The Bachelorette was on. I’d watch and live tweet diligently on Monday nights, and then spend Tuesday - Sunday reading my favourite recap blogs and listening to recap podcasts. At one point, I was listening to about 8 Bachelor-related podcasts. I’d talk about the show, read memoirs from past contestants, get all the information I could get about the show. I was interested and dedicated. Now though, I find myself at a junction where my favourite guilty pleasure is in direct contradiction to how I view and interact with society, as a Black woman. So how did I get here? Join me as I explore the show’s interaction with race and how this has affected my long-time engagement with the franchise.
The show in its current state
When I started watching shows like ‘The Bachelor’, I’d be met with statements like “Mofi, these white shows you watch,” or “Mofi I always die when I see your tweets about [insert show], I just can’t relate” from friends, family, acquaintances and even strangers. And few years ago, these statements were like water off a duck’s back. Back then it didn't really bother me that the shows I enjoyed watching were viewed that way by the people around me. And quite frankly, the bigger issues that many people had identified within the show also weren’t a huge concern for me, in part because of my ignorance at that point especially in relation to representation for Black, brown, and all people of colour in society and reality TV as an extension.
For example, it’s no secret that The Bachelor franchise has a problem producing a diverse cast. Take one look at the cast of any season and you’ll find multiple iterations of names like Ashley, Lauren, and Heather. This usually results in the need to differentiate the girls — often white and blonde — by last name e.g Ashley I, Ashley S, Lauren B etc. The show creates a space that caters to multiple versions of the same, where only a select group of people are represented and celebrated. It is continually produced, filmed and edited to appeal to a largely white audience, often with little to no representation of Black and other women of color, who despite this fact, continue to watch the show.
More recently though, cast diversity and representation has somewhat improved and Bachelor fans are in a time where we’ve had a Black lead on The Bachelorette — her Royal Highness, Rachel Lindsay; Taysia Adams , a Black woman from The Bachelor Season 23 was one of the top 3 women; and Onyeka Ehie, a Nigerian woman, was a relevant villain on The Bachelor Season 23.
But what does this really mean for diversity in reality television and its audience? The small “wins” for diversity I mentioned above are a bittersweet victory when you consider the other side of the coin;
Show producers cast a blatantly racist and sexist contestant, Lee Garrett on the same season that The Bachelorette had its first Black lead.
Rachel Lindsay’s happy ending and journey to love with fiance Bryan Abasolo was mostly not depicted. Instead, the showrunners decided to focus on her nasty break-up with runner up, Peter Krause.
Garrett Yrigoyen, the ‘winner’ of The Bachelorette Season 14 was caught in an online controversy after he liked racist, and problematic tweets on Instagram and defended his actions as “mindless double tapping on social media”
Most recently, prior to the airing of Season 23, transphobic, fatphobic, anti-immigrant, and ablelist tweets from contestant Tracy Shapoff’s twitter account were discovered. Shapoff has since apologized but that didn’t stop members of Bachelor nation from expressing frustration about the problematic nature of cast members
My biggest frustration so far though, came from this season of The Bachelor. Consider Tayshia Adams. Tayshia, a 28-year-old woman, previously married, fell in love with the lead and got her heart broken. Typically this is a great recipe for the next lead of The Bachelorette, but who gets chosen? 23-year-old Hannah Brown from Alabama. This would have been a perfect moment to have another great lead, remove the focus on having “firsts” and signal to the fact that a shift has been made regarding representation.
So as I sit back and consider all this, I’m wondering what responsibility reality TV shows have to their racialized cast members and audiences. Prior to Lindsey being cast as the first Black bachelorette, there had been recurring conversations on the lack of diversity within the franchise, what representation looks like in reference to age, race, size, ability, and as well, whether or not “America was ready for a Black lead”. These conversations are still happening even after her run on the show.
There’s no denying that at least anecdotally viewers of The Bachelor franchise are mostly white in the 18-49 age demographic. Because of this, the show has succeeded for years in reflecting that assumed audience, as opposed to the world in which it actually exists. The show’s priorities have and continue to be focused mostly on what will bring in viewers i.e, what will draw their white, mostly conservative audience. That is why it’s so important that the Black viewership jumped by 72% on Lindsay’s season. Black women were tuning in to the Bachelor in record numbers because for the first time the lead on the show looked like us, and we were interested in seeing the love story of a Black woman on a major network channel. Black women also probably tuned in to root on our girl, Rachel Lindsay and also lowkey just wait to see who she’d pick. Casting her as the lead was revolutionary because the creators felt they were making history. But, it was a history that they had full control over.
Much of the critique of the Bachelor franchise is done through a feminist lens, and it’s an important way to think and talk about the show. A lot of women struggle to reconcile how they can be watchers of the show but still identify as feminist. And although I would love to engage in more conversations around this, I’ve found that conversations in the show’s fanbase (Bachelor Nation) rarely consider the intersections of race, and where and how race factors in these conversations. There’s a quote from Ijeoma Oluo’s So You Want to Talk About Race that I love to reference: “I’m not capable of cutting away my Blackness in order to support feminism that views the needs of women of colour as divisive inconveniences” speaking to the fact that within feminism, perspectives of women of colour can be ignored or viewed as inconvenient.
And although never explicitly suggested on the show, I can’t help but think about this idea and how it relates to The Bachelor. It feels like in order to watch, love, and support the show, I’d have to rid myself of some of my blackness; not because I can’t identify with what the show is selling but because the show, frankly, views it as an inconvenience. An inconvenience to their ratings, casting, and their viewers. At least that’s what it feels like.
And since we’re talking about color-blindness, enter BachelorNation
BachelorNation: The fanbase of The Bachelor, that possesses a power of its own completely unaccountable to any person or body. Also the reason why the show goes a certain route, apparently. Also, the people still keeping the show running since 2002. Also, the largest congregation of Beckys you’ll ever encounter*
*I’d like to point out there’s a congregation of Black, Brown, and People of Color that are watching this show. Don’t be shy to announce yourself
I was listening to Afterbuzz’s weekly Bachelor recap podcast and one of the hosts (both are white men) questioned whether or not America was “ready” for a Black bachelorette. This statement frustrated me on many levels, but what stood out to me was the positioning of America (read BachelorNation) as the deciding factor of what is acceptable. Again, I’ll mention that in the same season where Black viewership increased by 72%, overall viewership dropped by 12%. What this said to me was that yes, (a part of) America (that’s equally important) is and has been ready for a Black lead.
Now it’s no secret that social media and its influencers are hugely powerful in today’s culture, and social media influencing is continuing to be a viable career path where people can gather a huge following, make a ton of money and influence parts of our culture. Contestants of The Bachelor are not exempt from wanting to achieve this, and one of the ways BachelorNation exercises their power to show who they like and are rewarding is through follower counts on Instagram. So, what types of people or brands does the show and its fan base support? Which brands don’t they support, and which look like me? Well I’ve got some of those numbers for you, as of this writing;
Bachelorette 10, Andi Dorfman: 1 million
Bachelorette 11, Kaitlyn Bristowe: 1.7 million
Bachelorette 12, Jojo Fletcher: 2.2 million
Bachelorette 13, Rachel Lindsay: 831 thousand (first Black bachelorette)
Bachelorette 14, Becca Kufrin: 1.3 million
Incoming Bachelorette 15, Hannah Brown: 909 thousand
On the most recent season of The Bachelor (S 23) with one of the most diverse casting, take a look at the following:
Winner, Cassie Randolph: 1.6 million
1st Runner up, Hannah Godwin: 1 million
2nd Runner up, Tayshia Adams: 249k
Caelynn Miller-Keyes: 747 thousand
Kirpa Sudick: 90.6 thousand*
Nicole Lopez-Alvar: 101 thousand*
*other racialized women/women of colour with significant lower followings
Rachel Lindsay and Tayshia Adams, both Black women (listed above) have followings significantly lower than their colleagues. This cycle of whiteness that is celebrated on the show is also reflected through followings on social media. But it’s not just about followers or what happens after the show is done. These decisions and attitudes also inform what and who is viewed as the “ideal” contestant on the show. The further away contestants are from whiteness, the less they are recognized. Not to mention the fact that follower count/size also has an impact on sponsorships, deals, and money these contestants receive. Black and Brown women would love to sell you things too. As Beyonce said, “pay me in equity.”
These musings and questions are for reality TV in general, because these issues exist within other reality shows well beyond the Bachelor Franchise. I’m thinking of these same questions when I watch my other shows like The Challenge, Big Brother, RuPaul’s Drag race, *insert your favourite reality competition show*
How do the show, its creators and producers, and the fanbase interact with and create space for their Black cast members?
As someone that is or was a huge fan of the Bachelor franchise, I find it hard to continuously engage with the show, it’s fans and what it represents as a whole. I’ve gone from dedicating a significant portion of my podcast Our Favourite Things to recapping the shows, to completely removing it from our roster. I’m also not dedicating my Monday night 8 - 10 p.m. timeslot to the show, I now listen to about 2 recap podcasts and I certainly don’t spend a lot of my free time talking about the show and doing personal research. I do however, still enjoy engaging in critical conversations about the show and reality tv in general. One podcast I enjoy listening to for the Bachelor/ette viewers is 2 Black Girls, 1 Rose (side note: I’ll still be reading those memoirs). It’s disappointing that there’s no dedication from the show and its producers to make its format more equitable and inclusive. You have a Black lead, then dedicate your efforts to ensure that she is content with her experience; not casting a racist and removing her “happily ever after” - the one thing that’s somewhat guaranteed from the show, but apparently not for the Black woman.
I wish there was more outrage from the fanbase talking about the nuances of this. I wish the show would step up to protect and promote its racialized cast members, publicly. I wish the fanbase would move beyond loving and promoting only white, skinny, and blonde. But at this point, in 2019 that is not what is happening and I am finding it very difficult to engage with the show. I’m at the point where it’s okay to acknowledge that “not everything is for me” and same goes for The Bachelor franchise.