A ‘Bachelorette’ Bible
There is a mantra often repeated on “The Bachelor” and its spinoff, “The Bachelorette”: “Here for the right reasons.” Contestants who go on the show to put their trust in “the process,” find true love and settle down are “here for the right reasons.” Those who come to take off their tops, boost their Instagram followings and land hosting gigs on the spring break party circuit are not.
You can think about watching the show in the same way. You can tune in and sincerely root for a lasting connection between a dental hygienist and a junior sales associate. Or you can embrace it on the level of spectacle, view it as a shimmering reflection of capitalism, gender and race in America.
“The Bachelor” franchise, which turned 15 years old this year, is a deeply American artifact. It’s a freaky mash-up of one-true-love monogamy and hedonistic polyamory. It isolates men and women from their families, friends and smartphones, liquors them up and edits them into catty bitches and aggressive bros. It’s the most synergistic thing I’ve ever seen: Every episode of “The Bachelor” functions as a native ad for “The Bachelorette” and “Bachelor in Paradise” — the spinoff in which contestants who were “not here for the right reasons” are all put on an island to fend for themselves sexually. Over the years, the shows has eaten up the rest of the ABC lineup, bloating from one hour to 90 minutes to two hours an episode — it finally reaches three hours near season’s end, when the live specials begin.
It’s also the whitest thing ever. On this season of “The Bachelorette,” which debuts on Monday night, the show will feature a black lead for the first time. As NPR’s Linda Holmes has smartly noted, the franchise works as a metaphor for white privilege because each new Bachelorette or Bachelor is selected from the previous season’s top contestants, power appears to pass naturally from one white romantic lead to the next. How the show grapples with Rachel Lindsay, a 31-year-old Dallas lawyer, as the Bachelorette — Will a white romantic hopeful tell her he “doesn’t see color?” Will a race war break out among the guys? — won’t tell us much about race in America, but it will tell us plenty about the story that white America would like to sell itself about race. The prospects are equal parts fascinating and horrifying.
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