We’re told that grief works in stages, but that’s not been my experience. The different points described; denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance, may occur, but I’m not sure it’s a step-wise process. With all my friends and family members who’ve passed away, there’s been an ebb and flow of emotions, much like waves. I wouldn’t claim to speak for everyone, we don’t necessarily experience grief in the same way, and bereavement can vary depending on your relationship with the person who has passed away and the circumstances.
My Grandma died of cancer in 2017, but passed away less than a month after being diagnosed, so her death felt sudden and I hadn’t processed my Grandma had cancer before she died.
Ten years ago, my Father also died of cancer and therefore, I’m slightly bemused by the dead-parent-as-a-motivation-to-become-a-hero trope in books and films. In my case, I was obsessively googling symptoms to various diseases. Perhaps it’s selfish, but when you lose a parent, especially when they’re relatively young like my Dad was, you (or at least I) start worrying about your own health. It’s not that I was flippant about my health before my Dad’s death; I’ve never smoked and try to exercise regularly. However, I began to imagine the worst for my own health. It didn’t help that two weeks after my Dad passed away, I developed a lump on my knee. As you’ve probably guessed, this sent me back to trawling the Internet. What I had clearly wasn’t fatal. It was Prepatellar Bursitis, which has the glamorous colloquial name of ‘Housemaid’s Knee’.
I wasn’t really prepared for this aspect of grief, probably because our society seems to have difficulty in talking about death and grief. One obstacle is that we view experiencing negative moments and emotions as unusual and ‘wrong’, which explains why so many people report that others stop mentioning the lost loved one to them. For example, a friendship group will no longer talk about an individual’s late Mother or Mothers at all. I suspect this is to avoid upsetting the bereaved, making them cry being the ultimate fear. As kind as this might appear, it creates the feeling that the lost loved one never existed, which is actually worse.
The reason I’m posting this blog entry today, is that it’s the first anniversary of my Grandad’s death, and not thinking about him, or facing up to the date would be to ignore his life.
Not all aspects of grief are pleasant, but these negative emotions; the sense of loss, are a result of caring about and having a type of relationship with someone. Hence, I don’t really talk about “Getting over,” my grief because what we’re actually experiencing is love.
Normally, I don’t write ‘traditional’ book reviews. Instead, I talk about the effect a book has had on me, or the thoughts a work has sparked. Reading You Could Be So Pretty was different though, as the process seemed to work in reverse. Opinions and experiences of my own were right there on every page, leading to a strong feeling of recognition. The poem and piece of music below were both written before I read Holly Bourne’s novel, but they could have been inspired by it.
Not Too Much
Falling short every time. Strap my anger to a neon sign. Saying it should be fun. “Start the party!” then they’ll call us dumb.
Speak up, but not too much. Smile, but not too much. Eat more, eat less, Work harder, don’t get stressed. Be them all, but not too much.
They really appreciate it, When you’re not too educated. Be a work of art, But don’t draw attention. These are just some rules They neglect to mention.
Whenever there’s a discussion about a social crisis, you don’t have to wait long before someone blames ‘broken homes’. Full disclosure at the start of this post, from the age of ten, I lived in such a home.
As you can imagine, I’m not best pleased to have my upbringing cited as the cause of everything from gun violence to a lack of educational attainment. However, this isn’t simply about my hurt, snowflake feelings. While there are issues being in a single-parent family, research consistently finds that it’s psychologically healthier for children to have parents living apart, than with two parents whose relationship is unhappy*. Despite this evidence, ‘broken homes’ are still cited as the source of society’s problems, rather than perhaps the only viable option in a difficult situation for parents.
Many of the complications we experience growing up in a single-parent home, having to mature quickly, limited opportunities and living on a tight budget are not exclusive to ‘broken homes’. The difficulties I listed could all result from lack of money. They’ll be familiar to many two-parent families struggling with the cost of living.
If you’re being cynical, it could be argued ‘broken homes’ are a convenient target; a catch-all explanation for problems, meaning that politicians or public figures don’t have to acknowledge their mistakes or deal with the actual causes.
Apart from the view that explicitly blames ‘broken homes’, another reaction is to see children from single-parent families as a charity case. Even though there may be good intentions present, they’re often mixed with a patronising attitude that assumes someone needs to stride in and offer advice. I’ve received enough sympathetic head tilts and probing questions to know that, as nice as it may appear at first, it’s accompanied by a fascination with ‘broken homes’. People I barely know have wanted to quiz me on why my parents divorced.
Tellingly, most of the those who subscribe to either of these two opinions aren’t from single parent families themselves.
It’s bizarre that these conversations are played out so publicly, meaning those of us from ‘broken homes’ can hear. A common perception is that many children from single-parent families struggle with low confidence. If they do, it’s no wonder. People keep telling them they’re a problem.
Now I’ve complained, what is my solution? Well, for a start, I think we need to come up with a better term than ‘broken home’. Not only is it extremely Dickensian, it gives the impression that everyone in a traditional, nuclear family is better and single-parent homes are somehow defective. They’re not, they just have fewer people. This isn’t meant as an attack on the nuclear family. I’m just asking that people stop doing the same thing to my upbringing. We are no more broken than anyone else.
I understand that the reasons behind a one-parent home can often be negative, but that’s no excuse to make the depiction of single-parent families so unfavourable.
For that reason, my second request would be that people rethink their views on single-parent families. There are some challenges with being a single-parent family, but if some individuals change their reaction, we can remove one of those right away.
Contains references to suicide, rape and sexual assault
For my latest look at mental health representation, I’m focusing on 13 Reasons Why. Based on the book by Jay Asher, the Netflix series shares its premise, with 13 cassette tapes being sent to a group of people after the suicide of teenager Hannah Baker.
Analysing 13 Reasons Why is difficult for a variety of reasons. The first is that the show went beyond the material of the novel, so some of the issues are not solely the responsibility of the author. Another is that some topics are dealt with very sensitively, leading to some genuinely beautiful moments. Whereas others are completely mishandled.
Additionally, it’s hard to discuss mental health when it isn’t explicitly mentioned in either the book or programme. This brings me to the first issue:
Misunderstanding The Criticism – The show made three specials, Beyond The Reasons, to address the serious subjects covered. Although that does indicate an awareness of their responsibility, it inadvertently highlighted that they didn’t understand the backlash. A few members of the cast and crew talked about, “Starting a conversation”. Except, most people weren’t angry about the subject matter, it was the way it was portrayed. Talking about suicide is important, but it also needs to be done with care. 13 Reasons Why has been linked to ‘copy’ suicides and Netflix had to remove the original scene in which Hannah dies. It’s good that they responded to feedback, but they should have listened to advice. Before the series aired, they were warned by a suicide prevention expert not to show any of it. They ignored them.
Also problematic, is what the programme and novel left out completely. As mentioned before, there is little focus on mental health. The discussion on why Hannah killed herself is centred on events, rather than her inner thoughts.
Hannah Is Viewed From A Distance – Part of the reason Hannah’s mental state remains largely ignored, is because she isn’t really the main character. That role is taken by Clay Jensen. The above image from the Netflix artwork says a lot, with Hannah the ethereal figure in the background. I know there are excerpts of Hannah’s thoughts in both the book and the programme, but we see her mostly through the eyes of a boy who is fascinated by her. In this way, I see a similarity between 13 Reasons Why, Looking For Alaska (by John Green) and Our Chemical Hearts (by Krystal Sutherland ). All three tell the story of a ‘troubled’ teenage girl through the eyes of a male admirer. Consequently, the conversation on mental health is cloaked in mystery. While that might be an accurate portrayal of how teenage boys view a crush, (I can’t say, I’m not one) I question if that’s the best perspective to use.
Caroline Flack, who took her own life in 2020, is described, by her sister, as having had a fascination with the subject of suicide. Our cultural tendency to create intrigue around suicide perhaps makes this a common problem.
The Suicide Plot Line – I won’t be the first person to criticise the way 13 Reasons Why depicts suicide. According to Jay Asher, one girl’s response to reading the book was to say it made her want to be kinder to people. While that’s a lovely sentiment, both the book and the show make suicide about blame, which isn’t helpful for anyone who’s lost someone that way. Less than half of individuals who kill themselves actually leave a note, meaning it’s often unclear exactly why someone has taken their own life.
Not only is the existence of the 13 tapes unrealistic, it hints at a vindictiveness. Hannah’s description of her suicide plan, heard on the recordings, makes it appear that her main motivation is revenge. That’s more in line with the outdated view that suicide is selfish. In this respect, 13 Reasons Why is not a reliable source of information on suicide.
Unnecessary Misery – In Chemical Hearts (the film) Grace says words to the effect that, “No one ever talks about how difficult being a teenager is.” Actually they do. All the time. 13 Reasons Why is no exception, to the point where the number of tragic events feels exploitative and unrealistic. Perhaps the clearest example of this is the fate of Justin near the end of the final season, when he dies of AIDS. Considering the decades of work to break the stigma and the medical advancements, killing a character off in this way feels completely insensitive and out of step.
If you’ve read the book, you’ll know this isn’t what happens. The show included additional material and, if you’re being cynical, they added as much tragedy as possible to gain more milage and drama. Derry Girls, set in Northern Ireland, during the Troubles, bucks the trend, by showing the joy and normality of being a teenager. Adolescence can be difficult. Still, it’s not the cavalcade of awful shown in 13 Reasons Why.
Better Scenes – Alongside these criticisms, there are some scenes that are executed well. The moment when Tyler tells Clay he’s been sexually assaulted, moved me to tears, especially when Clay asks permission to give Tyler a hug. It’s very rare to see male sexual assault survivors on screen, so it was an important moment. I also think it’s healthy for male characters to be confiding in each other, as it goes against society’s expectations that males shouldn’t talk about their issues.
That said, the attacker is Monty, who is secretly gay, meaning the storyline relies on a dangerous homophobic trope.
More helpful, is the fact that Bryce is found not guilty of raping Jessica, and Chlöe refuses to provide evidence that might convict him. It’s not the verdict I wanted, but it’s sadly realistic, illustrating the difficulties faced by rape survivors, even in the justice system. Additionally, the scene where a majority of the main characters visit Jessica to say they believe her, is powerful to witness.
13 Reasons Why may have helped some viewers. However, it carries too many risk factors and I think there are more constructive ways to begin a conversation about mental health.
I hate taking paracetamol. Coating it in sugar would make it better, but in the long run, that would be unhealthy. Sometimes experiences are just unpleasant, and there’s no changing that. We just have to put up with it.
In a recent blog post, I criticised the trivialisation of the Ukraine war. This trivialisation isn’t restricted to the present situation. From mental illness to serious crimes, we turn almost anything into an ‘aesthetic’. Our culture is fixated on, “Living your best life” and making everything fun. As a result, we have short attention spans, need constant excitement, and can’t cope with negative feelings. Paradoxically, this tendency to trivialise is occurring alongside a growth in activism. Yet, there might be a connection.
We realise that staying away from current affairs would be frowned upon as running away, so we’ve created a new method of avoidance. We talk about a subject without facing it, by treating all issues on the level of entertainment.
At first this might feel like a positive, when an issue trends it gains a lot of attention. However, meaningful change takes patience, which doesn’t fit with our “Make everything fun” approach. We are lowering problems to fit our weaknesses, instead of raising attitudes and behaviours to meet the demands of the moment.
I don’t agree that social media isn’t real, because what happens online can have consequences. It’s perhaps more accurate to say that social media isn’t fully representative. As a result, a flurry of posts about an issue can make it seem like there’s more action being taken on a problem than is really the case.
The question in the above picture is a pertinent one. Certainly, newsfeeds were full of related posts after the murder of George Floyd. There was much less interest around the recent shooting of Patrick Lyoya. It rather seems like many people have lost interest in racial justice.
Now, some of you might argue that, if social media isn’t representative, then Internet responses can’t have much of an influence. Light-hearted posts aren’t to be taken seriously. Herein lies the problem. Trivialising a situation online can distort our perception of the facts. For example journalist and broadcaster Charlene White called out the racism experienced by Black people trying to flee Ukraine, which has been verified. Here was someone drawing attention to an actual problem and she was rewarded with criticism. In sharp contrast, many of the thirst posts about President Zelenskyy, went viral. “I want to listen” is the popular refrain around activism. I’m starting to wonder if that’s genuine.
Tweeting along to Biden’s Inauguration and creating/sharing Bernie Sanders memes is not the same as posting about a war.
There’s a difference between bringing light to a situation and making light of it, and it’s the latter that our society seems to want to hear. Andrea Gilmore Bykovskyi tweeted a very good point that “Levity…should arise from within the culture and people affected – not from spectators.” Otherwise, we are effectively talking over those we are claiming to help, giving our perspective, which isn’t going to be as relevant. Many in the West have tried to approach the Russia- Ukraine war in the same way as our day-to-day politics. Since 2016, Britain and American have experienced some difficult times, but there’s also been plenty of opportunities for satire that don’t revolve around tragedy. Tweeting along to Biden’s Inauguration and creating/sharing Bernie Sanders memes is not the same as posting about a war.
Social media doesn’t tell us what everyone thinks, but going viral and trending topics can create the false impression to users that they’re speaking for the majority. It’s led to a universalising of experiences and encourages people to carry on as they are, without scrutinising their own behaviour.
I’m not saying everyone should watch 24 hours of news a day, but our current approach isn’t working. Most emotionally healthy people will feel negative emotions towards distressing events. By all means, take a break. Still, we shouldn’t do so while appearing to engage with the problem. As we take a moment out, we need to be aware that some people don’t have the luxury of switching off from a situation. We owe them more than a meme.
The following post contains references to Eating Disorders.
For part two of this blog series, we’re turning our attention to Good Trouble. A spinoff of The Fosters, Callie and Mariana (both characters from the original) move to LA, into communal housing. The drama focuses on The Coterie and its inhabitants, including Davia, a teacher and Body Positivity influencer. We find out that she has had an Eating Disorder in the past, and in the third season, experiences a relapse. Personally, I feel the show handles a difficult subject responsibly and is free of the usual glamorisation that often occurs.
Good Trouble manages to strike the right balance between showing Davia as a human being with talents and people that care for her, without making the Eating Disorder itself aspirational. Some of the credit for that has to go to Emma Hunton, who plays Davia with true depth. At times Davia is able to support other characters, at others she is the one needing help. We see her flaws and vulnerabilities, such as when she is unsure of how to relate to her students. Then, when she’s describing her hospitalisation with an Eating Disorder to Dennis, her friend/love interest, she is in tears and Emma’s performance in that scene really communicates the pain, isolation, fear and shame that many experience with an Eating Disorder. We get the message that Davia doesn’t want to go through that again, and so her account acts like a warning, rather than an encouragement. I also applaud the fact that events are described rather than shown, as it means graphic images haven’t been used for entertainment or to sensationalise.
Often, in the arts, a character’s mental health problem is their main feature, which implies that people are defined by that problem. This sort of idea can’t be helpful for recovery. If an Eating Disorder is seen as the sum total of who you are, how do you go about being yourself without it? That’s why I’m pleased that Davia’s Eating Disorder is not the only fact we know about her. We actually don’t find out about it until season two. Being as Eating Disorders tend to involve secrecy, it’s realistic that it takes a while for us to find out about Davia.
If an Eating Disorder is seen as the sum total of who you are, how do you go about being yourself without it?
Actually, Davia is first presented to us as confident about her appearance. The relationship between Body Positivity and Eating Disorders is a complicated one, because they aren’t necessarily opposites. Actress, presenter, music producer and activist Jameela Jamil has advocated Body Neutrality, not focusing on your appearance either way. There’s a suggestion that this can be more healthy and sustainable, because Body Positivity can lead to guilt at those times when you aren’t feeling truly confident. Consequently, not only do you feel bad about your appearance, but you feel bad about feeling bad. Therefore, I’m glad that Good Trouble hasn’t shied away from this aspect of Body Positivity, and that Davia is not betraying her role on Social Media by having a relapse, especially as it’s not uncommon. I think it’s constructive of Good Trouble to show this, and not make Davia’s experience like a fairytale.
Considering many pervious portrayals of Eating Disorders, such as in the UK version of Skins, Good Trouble, is a refreshing change. We are used to seeing underweight characters with Eating Disorders, which helps to spread the myth that these disorders are linked to weight. People of any size can have a disordered relationship with food. For too long, Body Mass Index (BMI) has been used to assess the severity of Eating Disorders and prioritise treatment. Not only is it illogical, you’re telling individuals who have an unhealthy relationship with food that they’ve fine, it delays intervention until there are serous physical health issues.
Spotting early warning signs is vital, both in the first stages or during a relapse. Davia notices she may be slipping back into old behaviours and ways of thinking. She confides in others to, in her words, “Hold myself accountable”. It’s important that people feel they have control over their recovery, but also that they aren’t alone. Hence, I believe Good Trouble offers a healthy lesson on how to get help. Davia receives support, but she still has agency. This sets her apart from many other characters with Eating Disorders, who can be like ethereal dolls. Davia is not perfect, she has an affair with a married man, but she’s likeable. We see her caring for her students, for instance.
Good Trouble is correct in realising that stories about mental illness are about human beings, not just disorders.
The following post contains references to suicide and eating disorders, but there are no specific images.
Airing from 2007-2012, Skins was a drama following students at a Bristol Sixth Form college. If you’re unfamiliar, this is the final two years of school before university. The show was popular, with a mini-series in 2013, that revisited three well-liked characters, Cassie, Effy and Cook.
The first two of those had mental health problems. Cassie had Anorexia, while Effy had Psychotic Depression, and both characters’ experiences were romanticised. It’s not that the programme presented mental illness as explicitly positive, but these issues were made to look glamorous. Both Cassie and Effy were attractive, with a lot of interest from boys, particularly in Effy’s case. Many viewers were grateful that these issues were finally being shown on screen but, as I always say, it’s not whether those problems are portrayed, it’s how.
In the case of Skins, mental illness was something aspirational, with the focus being on Cassie and Effy’s appearance. Images of Cassie, along with quotations from her, have been seen on Pro-Anorexia sites. Then we have the screenshot below highlighting the first suggestions upon Googling Effy’s name, with a clear link to looks. Skins made having a mental illness seem beautiful and that’s dangerous.
One of the many problems with the sad girl aesthetic, is that it’s just that, an image. For example, the most we heard about Cassie’s inner motives was that she wanted to look, “Lovely”. Anorexia is a lot more complex than that. In the same way, Effy always felt distant, being talked about by other characters.
Where the show did go into detail was in displaying the girls’ symptoms. We got what’s essentially a Pro-Anorexia scene, where Cassie described certain habits, which I can’t repeat because it could be triggering. We also saw Effy’s psychosis and suicide attempt. Yet, there was little of either receiving help. Most of the adults around them were useless to varying degrees, or like Effy’s psychiatrist, actual murderers (more on him later). The only people who really helped Cassie and Effy were their respective boyfriends. We were given the rather unhelpful message that if you do need help with your mental health, the only place to get that is from a love interest.
Defenders of the programme might point out that plenty of male characters in Skins had issues. Still, I would argue that there were clear explanations for these problems. With Cassie and Effy, their mental illnesses were who they were and what defined them. Effy’s mother likened holding her daughter as a baby to carrying a, “Beautiful bomb”. Limited screen time was given to anything else about Cassie and Effy.
It’s disappointing that even people who criticise Skins‘ handling of mental health, still talk about the show with fondness. Nostalgia is dangerous, because it can lull us into thinking that something is harmless and safely in the past. A lot has changed in the 14 years since Skins started, but the effects of triggering content online were already known at the time. In 2001, Yahoo removed 113 Pro-Anorexia sites from its servers.
20 years on, we’re still seeing harmful content relating to self-harm and eating disorders. Part of the issue, is that Social Media platforms recommend posts based on algorithms. Hence, someone sharing or viewing some of the less harmful Skins content, could be led to more questionable material. With Skins experiencing a resurgence on TikTok, and all of the episodes available to stream, the show still poses an active risk.
We have to ask ourselves if we’re serious about mental illness, because if we are, then people’s health should be above our love for a TV show. We can’t criticise Social Media over its negative influence, then let Skins get away with it, especially when some of the damaging content is from the programme.
I’m not saying that the show wanted to harm viewers, but they were irresponsible in their approach. Both Cassie and Effy’s illnesses were manifested in promiscuity and drug-taking. Some individuals with mental health problems display those behaviours, but it’s not true of everyone. Perhaps I’m being cynical, but they chose to show the symptoms that created more scandalous viewing. This is why Skins‘ portrayal of mental health was set to fail. It wasn’t realistic, and this was a general problem with the whole programme.
With teenagers playing the main roles, characters living in normal homes, having stained clothes and disgusting habits, there is a temptation to think Skins was grounded in reality. Yet, you’ll notice most of this is surface-level. The storylines at times were so outlandish they verged on melodrama, the best (or worst) example being the moment when a psychiatrist killed Effy’s boyfriend out of an obsession with her.
Added to this, most of the characters seemed to spend their time drinking, smoking and taking drugs. I know some teenagers do this, but not all. Again, the show treated everyone as if they were the same. The writers drew the characters like hedonistic Rock stars and not teenagers. They only remembered they were depicting Sixth Formers when it got to exam season.
Don’t get me wrong, the acting is good and there is some funny dialogue, but it’s a stretch to say Skins was refreshingly different from other teen shows. It was as shallow, it’s just the makeup was smudged.
Being a drama doesn’t take away the responsibility to be accurate either. Realism was supposedly a selling-point for Skins, and they were quite happy to use real-life issues for entertainment. It would be cowardly to then claim its fictional status as an excuse.
Although it would be unfair to suggest Skins created the romanticisation of mental illness, it didn’t do anything to challenge it, and therefore it might not be the groundbreaking show many allege.
The Chemical Garden trilogy, by Lauren DeStefano, is set in the future, where there has been an attempt to make humans perfect. Most diseases have been eradicated, but now females die at 21 and males at 25. Taking place in a Dystopia, that whole world may seem far removed from our own. However, we do live in a society fixated on perfection, and it’s also at a cost.
Suicide is one of the main causes of death in under 35s, and the number of 16 to 24 year olds reporting mental health problems has been on the rise in the UK, even prior to the pandemic. With Millennials and Generation Z seeming to display increases in anxiety and other issues, many people have asked whether there is something specific to those age groups that has led to an increase.
At this point, the conversation can quickly turn into a generational argument, with claims of entitled younger people, or Boomers and Gen Xers stealing the opportunities. I find these discussions are not constructive, and crucially don’t identify any causes.
One answer may lie in research, which has found that younger people have higher levels of perfectionism than older generations. Traditionally considered an asset, perfectionism can have an adverse effect on mental health, and I say this because I’m a recovering perfectionist. I use the word recovering, as I’m very much a work in progress. Still, I’ve gone from wearing my perfectionism as a badge of honour to viewing it as an enemy.
There is nothing wrong in trying for excellence, or making an effort, nonetheless that’s not quite the same as perfectionism. Aiming to do something well requires effort, but it’s realistic and leaves room for mistakes, which can be used as learning experiences. Perfectionism demands something impossible and creates a constantly critical inner voice. It’s dangerous.
Like most mental health problems, there are a number of factors that contribute to perfectionism, and I can’t recall the trigger for mine. However, I remember living with the effects. I was ten, and started worrying that I hadn’t achieved enough in my life and that I wasn’t working hard enough. It sounds like a midlife crisis. (What can I say? Reaching double figures hit me hard.)
Certainly for me, perfectionism began in a couple of areas, school and music, before it spread to every aspect of my life, from appearance to character. There is no break, even when taking time off, because we perfectionists will want to excel in that too, making sure that we work through our TBR lists and that we’re seeing friends often enough. Really, the only time the perfectionism stops is when you’re sleeping, but then, you have to make sure you get the perfect amount of sleep don’t you? It’s exhausting, not just physically, but mentally. Unrealistic expectations and constant self-criticism can lead to low self-esteem, and a distorted perception of the world. You see everything in all-or-nothing terms, perfect or awful.
To move away from perfectionism, you have to make a lot of changes to the way you think. It happens gradually, and every so often there will be ‘breakthrough’ moments. For example, growing up, Alicia Keys was one of my musical inspirations, and hearing her talk about leaving imperfections on recordings, helped to remind me that we don’t have to be perfect.
Teaching music has also helped. When telling students that they don’t need to worry about everything being perfect, I realise that I should take my own advice. There’s almost something narcissistic about demanding perfection from myself and not others, as if only I can obtain it.
Getting over perfectionism isn’t easy, particularly as, mentioned before, society sees it as a good thing. It can take a lot to realise perfectionism is unhealthy. My own realisation came with a moment of extreme anxiety at the end of an A-Level Psychology Research exam. (Yes, I appreciate the irony.) I walked off to speak with the school nurse and began counselling.
In addition to being bad for our mental health, perfectionism, ironically, gets in the way of achievement. It makes you fear failure and often turns into procrastination. You then feel guilty and compensate by overworking. Again, our culture may be more open now about mental health, but it still rewards battling through. There is a concept of, ‘high-functioning’ people with mental illness, which seems related to how busy you are. It’s okay not to be okay, as long as you’re still achieving, is the message. That’s why Simone Biles sitting out some events at the Olympics was such a momentous and brave act.
A desire to achieve is what drives perfectionism, and you fear that, if you let go of it, you’ll lose out. When in reality, you will only gain. Like I’ve said, I’m a work in progress and even writing this post, I’ll have to stop myself from obsessively checking for missstakes. Yet, I do try to stop myself and that’s an important step.
The following post contains references to rape, sexual assault and sexual relationships.
PLL was deliberately trying to sell the idea of Aria and Ezra as a legitimate couple, and I want to know why.
Those of us in the UK might not be aware of the consent laws in America. PLL is set in Rosewood, a fictional Pennsylvanian town. In that State, the age of consent is sixteen, but it is illegal for an adult to have sexual intercourse with anyone under the age of eighteen. Aria is under eighteen when the ‘relationship’ is consummated. Ezra is committing rape.
The makers of PLL have tried to get round this by saying that Ezra was not Aria’s teacher at the time, and that the law applies to authority figures. However, in the show, Aria is worried that Ezra could go to prison for being with her. Why would that be the case, if Ezra wasn’t doing anything wrong?
It (PLL) aired in 2017, when the Me Too movement was gaining momentum….PLL seemed to ignore all this.
Loyalty to the books isn’t the issue, because Aria and Ezra don’t get married in those. There is then the timing of the final season. It aired in 2017, when the Me Too movement was gaining momentum and there were a lot of discussions about sexual harassment and the abuse of power. PLL seemed to ignore all this.
What Ezra did would have always been wrong, but as awareness grows, TV shows get less of a free pass from their audience. Perhaps because PLL started back in 2010, some viewers had invested in the storyline and it was difficult to see the problem. If PLL began now, I suspect they might find it harder to get away with the Aria and Ezra ‘relationship’ along with other problems, like white-washing Wren.
I’m not saying audiences can’t think for themselves, but TV influences our perceptions and emotions, that’s part of the draw. Maybe PLL gave Ezra a happy ending because of his popularity amongst some fans, but that’s circular reasoning. Fans who loved Aria and Ezra did so because the show made them. Imagine Ezra wasn’t attractive, he wasn’t young, or a talented writer. It immediately doesn’t seem as romantic does it? The substance of the story hasn’t changed, it’s just the window dressing that’s gone.
PLL would have us believe that Aria and Ezra are soulmates, but it only appears that way because it’s the only relationship for either of them that the writers bother developing on screen.
Chillingly, the method PLL uses to depict Aria and Ezra is similar to that of predators themselves.
Fans who loved Aria and Ezra did so because the show made them.
Defending the ‘relationship’ takes a lot of mental gymnastics. People point to the fact that Lucy Hale was older than her character, but the whole objective of drama is to be convincing. It’s all about the reality they’re trying to recreate. Another comment I’ve seen, is that, “Age is just a number,” which is something you say to console an older relative, not as a defence of rape.
Due to a five year time jump mid-way through season six, some would argue that, when she marries Ezra, Aria is old enough and this is some post-feminist exercise in giving her independence. In the final season, there is an attempt to address concerns, when Ezra admits he manipulated Aria. The problem is that Aria couldn’t give consent at the start. As many survivors of rape and sexual assault only talk about their experiences years later, it’s dangerous for PLL to act as if the passage of time makes the situation less serious.
Leaving ethics aside, the Aria and Ezra relationship was a bad decision creatively.
Addressing concerns in your show only works if you have strong enough arguments to refute them, and PLL didn’t. The programme’s attitude made me angry. Normally, I don’t like to quit a show, and I kept going with the knowledge that I’d be writing this blog post. It was difficult at times, especially during the awful Santa Claus boxers scene, “Merry Christmas!” Oh do jog on.
Leaving ethics aside, the Aria and Ezra relationship was a bad decision creatively. Ian Harding, who starred as Ezra, did his best acting when he and Aria weren’t together. To me, he didn’t seem comfortable in the ‘boyfriend’ role.
Devoting so much time to this relationship meant that other plot lines and characters were ignored, and it wasn’t worth it
Short of putting up a neon sign, with a chorus line singing, “Ship Aria and Ezra,” the writers couldn’t have made it more obvious that they wanted us to root for them. It’s confusing because, elsewhere, Hannah is sexually harassed by Zack, Ella’s (Aria’s mother) fiancé. In probably one of the strongest scenes ever on the show, Hanna speaks about feeling embarrassed and ashamed. Ella finishes with Zack, and he is shown to be a predator. Yet, the show expects us to see Ezra differently.
I realise this is a long post, but it’s a serious subject. You might say that, with the show and spin-offs over “What’s the point in complaining?” Still, PLL and related shows are available on streaming services. I understand they can’t go back and change what happened, but they could do that rare thing in TV and admit they made a mistake.
In a show full of lies, the myth around Aria and Ezra may have been the biggest of all.
The following post contains references to rape and sexual assault.
The post contains spoilers about Pretty Little Liars, Riverdale, The Wilds and Trinkets.
What is it about shows with pretty in the title? Tiny Pretty Things has an issue with inappropriate relationships and so did Pretty Little Liars.
If you’ve never seen it, Pretty Little Liars (PLL) was a Teen/YA show that ran from 2010-2017, and followed four teenagers, Aria, Emily, Hanna and Spencer, who are being stalked by a mysterious individual known as, ‘A’ in the aftermath of their friend Alison’s disappearance. PLL features a number of ‘relationships’ between adults and children, but the one that has the most focus exists between Aria and her English teacher, Ezra.
Other programmes, like Riverdale, The Wilds and Trinkets, include inappropriate relationships. However, the difference is that, in these shows, it’s made clear the relationships are wrong, especially as the characters in question don’t end up together. Whereas in PLL, the Aria and Ezra situation (I refuse to call them Ezria) is normalised and romanticised.
The pair meet in a bar during the first episode, and Aria lies about her age. They strike up a conversation and eventually start kissing in a bathroom (classy). At this point, even critics of the ‘relationship’ defend Ezra, as he doesn’t appear to know her real age. Yet, I still have a major problem with this, because, at the very start, it makes Aria appear like the manipulator. When there is so much victim-blaming in rape and sexual assault cases, I feel this is irresponsible by the writers.
Fast-forward to Aria’s first English lesson of the school year, and it’s revealed that the teacher at the front of the class is Ezra. Then would have been a sensible time to end it, but PLL didn’t. In a season four plot twist, we find out that Ezra knew who Aria was, and therefore her age, when they first met. He got the teaching job, so he could spy on Aria and her friends, to write a book about Alison.
For a show that was famous for plot twists, the writers seemed unable to let go of the idea of Aria and Ezra, giving them a wedding in the final episode, the ultimate endorsement.
Aria and Ezra were presented as something romantic and beautiful. Conversations between the two described their relationship as, “Feeling right,” and Aria’s friends refer to the couple as ‘hot’. Anyone who speaks out against them is depicted as a villain, or incapable of understanding their love, like Aria’s parents, who eventually accept the relationship. Aria and Ezra are framed as a love-against-the-odds story, ignoring that one of the obstacles is the law.
This representation isn’t accidental. Lucy Hale, who played Aria, said that she didn’t approach the situation as if it was inappropriate, and saw it as a Romeo and Juliet style romance. PLL was deliberately trying to sell the idea of Aria and Ezra as a legitimate couple, and I want to know why.