In the latest instalment of GLAMOUR's Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director's column, ‘Showtime with Emily Maddick’, in which Emily brings a unique perspective to the month's most hyped film or TV series, Emily writes about Love Island. As the show reached its finale last night, Emily argues that while ITV’s smash-hit show is undeniably one of the TV moments of the year, it remains problematic in terms of messaging around sexism, diversity, representation and mental health.
I know what I am about to write is deeply unpopular. For I know that Love Island is one of the most beloved television events of the year - beloved by many, many of our GLAMOUR readers. So I am braced for the hate that may come my way for this, but I am not going to tread carefully. For last night, as winners Mimii Ngulube and Josh Oyinsan emerged triumphantly from the Mallorcan villa and millions of devoted fans said a forlorn farewell to the 11th season of Love Island, I thought, as I do every year, “Good riddance to a toxic, sexist TV show and I bloody well hope this is the last time it gets aired.”
You see, what utterly bewilders me, every time Love Island fever takes over our screens (and our senses), is that for seven weeks women I know to be progressive, feminist, inclusive-minded individuals seem to ignore all these values to gorge every night on a show that in my opinion is little more than a modern day beauty pageant. One that serves the male gaze, all the while promoting unhealthy body ideals and the gamification of romance and relationships. Never mind its proven, problematic track record when it comes to diversity and inclusion.
In fact, one of my friends who I know to be a passionate advocate for all the above (feminism, anti-racism etc) even confirmed to me when I challenged her as to how she can reconcile watching the show with the values she holds so dearly:
“Oh you definitely do have to put that side of yourself to one side, when you’re watching it. Love Island is awful.”
Listen, I’m not clutching at my pearls here in prudish disdain, nor am I being a reality TV snob. I get the addiction of ‘guilty pleasure TV’ and over the years I too have feasted on many reality TV shows. I even have friends who are reality TV stars, and was once upon time almost in an episode of one myself (Made in Chelsea LOL). I am fascinated by it and I understand the very real significance of where reality TV sits in the canon of modern popular culture and its power, importance and relevance in the times we’re living in. Not to mention its economic power and ability to make the stars it churns out life-changing amounts of money. I know it’s a ‘game’ and that the contestants willingly sign up for it, knowing what they’re in for. Yet Love Island makes my blood run cold.
Let me start with the very serious matter of the fact that Love Island is a show where four people linked to it have died by suicide.
Sophie Gradon, who appeared as a contestant in the show in 2016, took her own life in 2018 at the age of 32. Her boyfriend Aaron Armstrong, who had found her body, went on to die by suicide three weeks later. Mike Thalassitis, who appeared in the 2017 series, was 26 when he was found dead by suicide in March 2019. And then there was the death of the show’s original host, presenter Caroline Flack who killed herself in February 2020 at the age of 40. Of course, Love Island is not directly responsible for all these tragic loss of lives, but since Caroline’s death there have been questions asked about the adequacy of the after-show support offered to contestants and repeated calls for ITV to cancel the show. Indeed, in May 2019, The Jeremy Kyle Show was permanently taken off air following the death of a former contestant by suicide. After this, MPs announced that there was to be a parliamentary inquiry into the safety and duty of care in the reality TV industry.
At the time it was reported that the MPs will consider stricter regulations on how contestants are treated on air and whether certain programmes place “unfair psychological pressure on participants and encourage more extreme behaviour”. As of yet, there have been no reports as to the findings of this inquiry.
For me, it remains abundantly clear that there needs to be more done to protect the contestants' mental health on Love Island. For example just last week, Ofcom received over 250 complaints following Joey Essex and Sean Stone’s alleged bullying behaviour during The Grafties episode (where all contestants have to assemble to watch their best and worst bits of the show so far.) Fans were shocked with the way Joey spoke to his ex, Grace Jackson, (the pair briefly dated last summer) having a go at her for receiving a joint nomination with Josh Oyninsan for Unfinished Business.
Then there’s Love Island’s clear problem with diversity, both racial diversity and body diversity. While it is of course significant and progressive that this year’s winners Mimii and Josh are the first ever Black couple to win Love Island, this doesn’t take away from the fact that year after year, the show faces accusations of colourism and tokenism when it comes to representation. Mimii was after all, the only dark skinned Black girl in the cast this year and every year, despite producers claiming that they are ‘committed’ to inclusion they still only include one or maybe two Black or mixed race women and rarely any South Asian or East Asian heritage women (or men.)
This year, Black TikTok and Twitter were ablaze with the discourse and language around Joey Essex and Grace. Joey was repeatedly described as ‘not Grace’s type’ based on the fact that on the show Grace would tend to go for mixed-race or Black men only. Equally there was discourse around the fact that when Josh chose ‘Mimi’ she was described as the ‘safer’ and ‘easier’ option after Grace - ‘safer’ and ‘easier’ the implication many noted, being because she, like Josh, was Black.
Body diversity. Let’s discuss that too shall we? Over the years the show has tried to incorporate more diverse body shapes, but that hasn’t gone down well, mainly for the contestants mental health. So this year, they reverted to type with a whole host of perfect looking, primped and preened, hairless, slender, ab-showcasing beach-body-ready bods. Yup, despite all the great leaps and bounds society has made in recent years when it comes to body diversity representation, Love Island still showcases impossibly idealistic body types to millions of impressionable young minds. *SIGH* And of course, most of the female contestants appear to have had gallons of lip filler and cosmetic tweaks too.
As my mega LI fan friend says:
“Whenever Love Island starts, me and my girlfriends become so aware of our bodies - because we’re spending all our time watching all these gorgeous tiny petite girls on the show. As it’s the summer, you then go away on holiday and it’s always in the back of your mind. It makes you feel shit about yourself.”
And the show’s poor track record on diversity, applies to other forms of representation too. Despite the inclusion of a deaf contestant, Tasha Ghouri in 2022 and 2021’s Hugo Hammond who was born with a clubbed foot, there has never been any other form of disability representation. No LGBTQ+ representation either, which producers have said in the past when challenged, would be “difficult” because of the "logistical element". Because that’s progression isn’t it? Seeing the LGBTQ+ community as a difficulty.
And finally, there’s the actual nuts and bolts of the show too: the ‘gamification’ of relationships, love and feelings. In the disposable world of dating apps we live in, what does this do to the young minds forming their first impressions of how to go out into the world to interact with potential romantic partners? Language such as “Recoupling ceremonies”, “Unfinished Business” and ‘Heartrate Challenges’ come across as really unhealthy.
Plus the gamification tends to be overtly sexist too. I was absolutely flabbergasted to see this season when they played “The Kissing Challenge” (yes, “The Kissing Challenge” folks) that it was the women who were rated on their style (“too sloppy” “too much tongue” “not enough tongue”) as they lined up one by one to snog the men, who were blindfolded and wearing noise-cancelling headphones. How is this equality? Where is the feminist, empowering messaging here? Where are the men being judged on their snogging skills? Why is it the women having to perform? And why are the women being pitted against each other?
The show’s legion of fans all tell me that Love Island is brilliant and beautiful because it showcases human emotions, chemistry, relationship ups and downs and our universally shared desire for love. (Although, call me cynical, but this argument somewhat loses its sheen when you read that according to a new QRFY study out this month, as of today, just 13 couples remain together out of the 352 contestants to date and that the UK show only has a 7.4% success rate.)
Another friend tells me she loves watching it with her 15-year-old daughter as a bonding experience and discussing behaviour types and the relationship conundrums that come up and how they would have reacted in that scenario.
But I worry that Love Island simply serves to reinforce all the outdated and dangerous stereotypes in our society that we are so urgently trying to move away from, fuelled by our innate human desire for voyeurism, drama and gossip. Here’s hoping that next season, the show surprises us and there’s real change in the show’s format, but somehow, depressingly, I doubt it will.
For more from GLAMOUR's Assistant Editor and Entertainment Director, Emily Maddick, follow her on Instagram @emilymaddick.
