Stop telling women feminism and reality television are mutually exclusive

It’s 2018, and for some reason, men are still dictating what constitutes good taste. This is a well-kept secret, but it’s evident in the way we as a society talk about entertainment. Work produced by women, or with women in mind, is cast away — categorized — as less valuable.

Books that reflect women’s lives, quests for love and pursuits of happiness? They’re referred to as “chick lit,” and you can find them in a special, possibly pink section of bookstores or corners of the internet. Books that represent the deep feelings of men? They’re called books. Movies that star female characters and depict experiences many women can relate to, while entertaining millions, are given a cute, rhyming name: “rom-com.” You can’t say the same for most movies starring men.

That brings me to reality television. There’s much to be said about the flaws of this genre, including the valid argument that it often doesn’t represent reality at all. It has the tendency to be cliché, and some of it is poorly produced. But none of these low points change the fact that it is highly entertaining. It draws in millions of people, most of whom are women, and spoiler alert: It’s considered by society to be trash. We’re told it’s a waste of time, and if we spend time watching it anyway, we’re tasteless.

Women aren’t innocent in enabling this phenomenon. In fact, many of us rush to apologize for our enjoyment of reality television using coded language. “It’s my guilty pleasure,” we’ll laugh when we bring up our shows, sometimes accidentally, in conversation. “I just hate-watch it!” we too often exclaim.

Our aversion to admitting we watch reality shows because we find them entertaining isn’t completely our fault. We live in a society that tells us our opinions of what is and isn’t interesting are invalid. We’re told if something appeals to women, it’s less important than something that appeals to men.

All of this has led us to think that if we’re smart, successful and feminist, we can’t also be enthralled with the lives depicted on “The Real Housewives” and other reality shows. We think we have to pick a side because we’re told these two ideas are mutually exclusive. We’ve internalized what our patriarchal society states clearly: Women’s interests are frivolous.

But if money talks, how can that be true? Bethenny Frankel, of “The Real Housewives of New York,” made $8.5 million in 2016, according to Forbes. The website also said Kim Kardashian West raked in $45.5 million last year.

And what about the money the shows bring to the networks that create them? The most recent three-hour finale of “The Bachelor” earned a 2.2 rating in adults between the ages of 18 and 49 and 7.8 million viewers, according to Variety. For many women, “The Bachelor” is a lens for us to view the bad relationships we’ve all had and the questionable choices we’ve all made. At the same time, it’s a way for feminists to come together, both online and in person, to call out the show’s outdated gender roles, the egregious lack of diversity and the ways that reality television pits women against each other. We’re allowed to condemn parts of it and campaign for the show to do better while also investing time in it. The NFL is extremely problematic, and men are allowed to condemn those problems while still watching and playing football.

Let’s call this divide of trivial women’s entertainment and profound entertainment for what it is: sexism. In the words of Kylie Jenner, it’s time to start “realizing stuff,” and calling out this belittling rhetoric when we see it, hear it and even say it is a good play to start.

Carly Breit is a UF journalism senior. Her column focuses on feminism.