Are We Still Watching Reality TV or Just Trauma Bonding?
Image Credit: Andres Ayrton
Are We Still Watching Reality TV or Just Trauma Bonding? The Black Viewer’s Dilemma:
Reality TV is supposed to be fun, but for Black viewers, it’s often emotional labor.
Streaming promised variety. What we got instead was recycled chaos. “Find Love or Pop the Balloon” began on YouTube as a rarity: a dating show that saw Black love without filters. Created by Arlette Amuli and Bolia “BM” Matundu, it was soft, layered and unapologetically Black.
It felt authentic. Then came Netflix.
The platform gave the show a global stage, then stripped it down. According to The Guardian, the reboot lost its soul. Gone was the insight, and in its place came provocative twerking, shouting matches and excessive displays of exposed skin to feed the algorithm. What began as cultural intimacy was repackaged into spectacle.
In his article, How Netflix turned a Black dating show loved by millions into TV trash, Nels Abbey didn’t hold back his perspective.
He said the essence of the show had been erased. When white and light-skinned contestants became central, viewers picked up on the message.
Desirability, once expansive, had been recolored. “Gone were the class, the intellectual insights and the Black ‘civilians’ (of all shades) looking for love; in came a diverse (all of the ‘contestants’ on the first episode of the Netflix show were either white or light-skinned), drink-sodden, rowdy affair including influencers and washed-up reality TV stars,” Abbey wrote. “Pop the Balloon or Find Love” seemingly became “Pop the Balloon and Find Clout.” For longtime viewers, it felt like watching something intimate get gutted. What started as a cultural connection had been stripped for virality.
This shift is not isolated. Reality TV has a complex space for Black women.
Erin James, a writer for The Tape Collective, outlined the problem. Black women are rarely allowed to be dignified on reality television. They are expected to perform—loudly, sexually or angrily.
Shows like “Love Island” and “The Real Housewives of Atlanta” don’t just cast Black women—They confine them to stereotypes.
The result is predictable: tokenism, colorism and reduction. James argues that Black women carry a unique burden in these spaces. They’re not just individuals. They’re cast to represent an entire community, under the weight of stereotype.
Dark-skinned women, in particular, are pushed aside. Audiences are trained to see them as less desirable. Meanwhile, light-skinned women are elevated and deemed more desirable.
It’s a pattern that reinforces long-standing beauty hierarchies and tells Black women that their proximity to whiteness determines their value.
Even when representation increases, freedom does not. Visibility becomes a trap. You’re seen, but not as yourself. You’re edited for drama, cast for conflict and judged by standards that were never yours to begin with.
The cost is high. The cost is emotional. It’s physical. It’s cultural. These portrayals don’t stay on screen. They follow viewers into real life, into workplaces, into dating apps, and into classrooms. The stereotypes stick and shape everything.
Abraham Zamudio, in the Howard Journal of Communications, wrote that repeated portrayals of Black people through narrow, stereotypical roles can lead to psychological harm. These portrayals affect not just how others see Black individuals, but how Black people see themselves.
That’s the danger of a stereotype. When Black people are inadvertently shown through the lens of anger, hypersexuality or aggression, they begin to navigate the world defensively. They shrink and second-guess themselves to avoid confirming a stereotype someone else wrote for them.
It’s not just unfair. It’s exhausting.
Despite stereotypes and unjust portrayals, some shows are beginning to push back. “The Impact Atlanta” centers Black influencers who are not waiting to be chosen. They already have the audience. The show still leans into drama and spectacle, but offers something different. It lets Black women tell their own stories. They are not relegated to the side as often seen in mainstream reality TV. They are the story. Even with the filters and the edits, there is something honest in the control.
“Young, Famous & African” moves in a similar direction. It centers African excellence, wealth and complexity. It doesn’t ignore conflict, but it doesn’t flatten its cast into caricatures either.
James says this is where reality TV needs to go. Toward a future where Black people are allowed to be complicated, joyful, contradictory and whole. Where performance is not the price of inclusion.
A recent survey conducted by Secrets and Legacy Media displays the theme of growing frustration with being seen only through the lens of stereotype. The survey, which gathered responses from 20 Black viewers, revealed a shared frustration:
78% said Black cast members are not portrayed fairly
100% agreed that reality TV creates harmful stereotypes about Black people
100% said they have stopped watching a show because of how Black people were portrayed
100% believed that editing exaggerates drama involving Black cast members
All respondents said reality TV has a negative impact on how Black people are seen in society
When asked how they felt after watching shows with mostly Black casts, half responded negatively and half positively
Results show that viewers are tired of watching their identities be distorted for entertainment. Viewers are also tired of seeing trauma sold as the truth and the narrow, recycled images that dominate the screen.
Reality TV is not harmless when the harm is repeated, monetized and dressed up as diversity.
For Black audiences, watching often means negotiating discomfort. It means seeing yourself represented, but under conditions that feel dehumanizing. It means being visible, but not respected.
The future of reality TV must do more than entertain. It must evolve. That evolution starts with Black creatives reclaiming control of their narratives—and with audiences who are no longer willing to trade authenticity for airtime.
