I’ve never been a fan of reality TV. Yet, reality TV, for better or worse, has always intrigued me. To me, it is merely a distorted mirror of society, showing how we view ourselves, how we present ourselves to the world, how we treat others, and how we sometimes sacrifice dignity for entertainment.
After extensive research and lengthy discussions with reality TV viewers, it is clear that the 2000s were the golden era of reality TV. Jersey Shore, 16 and Pregnant, Here Comes Honey Boo Boo, or even America’s Next Top Model defined an entire decade. These programmes put “ordinary” people, often young or from marginalised backgrounds, under the spotlight of the entire public. Children were put in heavy makeup on Honey Boo Boo, and 16 and Pregnant attempted to shed light on teen motherhood, though it often veered toward sensationalism.
All of these shows were often cheap to produce and very profitable. On the one hand, they democratised fame. You no longer needed connections or talent, but merely a big personality, or the will to play one up. At the time, it felt fresh; viewers got “real” people rather than impeccable actors. But this recipe relied on fictional conflicts and extensive editing. Child star MaKenzie Myers later spoke about the pressure she felt as a toddler, growing up forced to dress in a way she did not want and being picked up for her supposedly “bad behaviour.”
Reality TV now looks different, yet in many ways, the problems have worsened, and the cultural dominance of these shows is no longer the same as it was 20 years ago. In Ireland, younger viewers are watching less TV overall, though shows like The Traitors (Ireland) still draw crowds for their drama.
Dating shows and survival competitions remain popular, but the messy excess of the 2000s has given way to attempts at “positive” representations. It’s more likely to see an unfiltered version of people: a version where they show raw emotions. Yet, it is clear that body image issues, personal and intimate relationships, and mental health crises are exploited. Vulnerability is displayed for views. Numerous former contestants continue to highlight poor working conditions, and multiple studies show that reality TV consumption increases body anxiety among young people.
In 2003, America’s Next Top Model promised glamour, while it was really just incentivising body shaming and harsh critiques of the participants’ personalities. So is it much different today?
Well, current shows feel more “polished,” or TikTok-diluted, with a tendency to veer towards a social media format (shorter clips and influencer crossovers). But other than that, the core issues of respect for participants’ dignity, well-being, and consent persist. The 2000s versions reflected a society obsessed with instant celebrity and grand spectacle. Current shows simply reflect how that hunger for celebrity has fragmented across platforms. The chance to see behind the curtain offers a glimpse of the drama of real people’s lives, at the expense of the viewers’ need to confront reality.
Ultimately, reality TV is not disappearing, but its downfall definitely stems from a broader shift in society and what people want to see on screen, or on other platforms. It still reflects humans: our voyeurism, guilty pleasures, and our desire to watch others’ struggles for entertainment. I still question if viewers are ready to demand better, or if the mirror has become too uncomfortable to look at directly.
Charlotte Genty – Contributor