In defense of RHONY
To truly enjoy the reality show, one shouldn't take it seriously. Plus a quick note on what's new with this newsletter!
Spilled Milk is a newsletter that rounds up fashion, culture, and design stories that don’t fit neatly into the publications or brands I write for. It’s a space where niche obsessions turn into essays, where we can share serious thoughts on frivolous “lowbrow” topics (and vice versa). You can also think of it as a very long text from a friend.
In light of a recent Page Six headline claiming that the Bravo show The Real Housewives of New York is coming to an end—which was quickly denied by its executive producer and host, Andy Cohen—I’ve decided that it is the perfect time to release this essay I wrote last year. Initially, I thought it was fun to send to someone I was dating at the time who judged me for watching a show he considered very shallow. Yes, it is shallow, but amidst the chaos, it is unexpectedly moving—and above all, camp. Anyway, while RHONY floats in limbo, please enjoy the essay below.
In Defense of RHONY
Trapped at home during the second or third lockdown former Philippine president Duterte had announced in the middle of the pandemic, updates about the latest coronavirus strain was the last thing I wanted to consume. And so, I scrolled on Netflix, eventually stumbling upon a show that has been making its contributions to the pop cultural zeitgeist since 2008: The Real Housewives of New York.
Initially, I was hesitant, unsure if I wanted to participate in something that seemed quite superficial. I pressed play anyway; it took a few episodes, but once I was in, I was locked in. Arguably the show’s better franchises according to aficionados, RHONY provided me with one thing that helped carry me through the humdrum of being trapped at home: escapism. In the weeks that followed, I would witness a Housewife insisting to still be called countess despite her divorce from a count, another throwing her prosthetic leg on the table in the middle of an event to highlight that it was the only fake thing about her, and also moments that show glimpses of the emotional baggage a housewife might carry during an unhinged argument. The show is superficial, sure, but it also serves as a commentary about women of a certain demographic. Dissecting these women also mirrored truths about social norms.
My first experience of RHONY made me think, This is so bad, it is so ironically good. In other words, its campiness was what appealed to me. Who knew it would thrill me to watch a Housewife speak French to American waiters at a French restaurant in New York without much consideration if they knew the language or not, simply because she wanted to show off? The show seems to fall naturally under the category of what Susan Sontag describes in her 1964 essay, Notes on Camp: “Indeed the essence of camp is its love of the unnatural: of artifice and exaggeration.” Camp is a sensibility that isn’t always easy to describe; the reason why I grew an obsession with the show during the pandemic is the same reason why there has been a cult following surrounding John Waters’ films and shows like RuPaul’s Drag Race. On the topic, RuPaul shared, “To understand camp you have to see the absurdity of life from the outside, and then you can laugh at that situation, it's about not taking life too seriously and analyzing its absurdity.” To truly enjoy RHONY then, one should not take it seriously.
RHONY came into the mainstream consciousness at the right time, succeeding shows like Desperate Housewives and Sex and the City, where women in their 30s and 40s and up were depicted as complicated protagonists. The reality show added another dimension to this–instead of merely following the lives of these wealthy Manhattan women, it was the show’s producer and later host, Andy Cohen, who decided to put in ‘confessionals’–shots where the women would comment following a situation, speaking directly to the camera. It was almost like these women could brand themselves however they pleased. Watching the show, we are presented with women who were so self-assured, sometimes to the point of delirium. This meant also that the women had to be highly articulate in talking about their emotions, conflicts with the other Housewives, as well as difficult topics such as divorce and alcoholism.
Despite the show’s title, many of these women are not housewives in the traditional definition of the word. My experience watching it was probably the first time I was exposed to women in their 40s and 50s who lived a different life path than what was conventionally expected of them. It was the first time I saw women being raw about going through a difficult separation, dating and partying as if they were in their 20s, and trying to patch things up with a longtime friend after too much damage had been done. Despite the challenges, they always seem to pick themselves up again.
Like any show, RHONY is not without its flaws. First: there are storylines that are obviously encouraged, even scripted, like most reality television shows. Compared to a few ‘highbrow’ wildcards like award-winning journalist Carole Radziwill and the iconic Jenna Lyons, who was also the first openly queer Housewife, those who are in it for the long run know what they are signing in for and how to play with a good storyline. To succeed in this particular role requires a certain mindset. One could also argue that it is only representative of a certain demographic, but it is precisely this demographic that producers wanted to highlight since its conception–they knew there would be an audience fascinated by it. The show does not represent all women, but women of a certain type in Manhattan. I am not going as far as saying RHONY is a work of art, but often, art does not begin by generalizing, by trying to appeal to everyone; the most profound work can stem from the personal, eventually becoming relatable and touching people in different ways. I did not expect, for example, to be moved by the experience of a teary-eyed Ramona Singer sending her daughter to boarding school. "I think that the Real Housewives franchises allow women to be their truest selves. We see the mess, we see their amazing friendships and everything in between. When women are allowed to be their fullest selves, that's the most feminist thing we can do,” says author, critic, and Real Housewives fan Roxane Gay during a guest appearance in Watch What Happens Live with Andy Cohen.
Another criticism people might have about RHONY is that it is trashy, lowbrow. Sure, it is not without its trashier moments–some of which have unfortunately taken up space in my brain. But ultimately, I defend the fact that the show does more entertaining than harm. It is a show not to be taken seriously while watching it, but not one to be taken lightly either, considering its cultural impact. Many of these Housewives have surpassed our expectations and defined themselves not just by playing the supporting role of “wife of.” They have branded themselves as gossips and drama stirrers but also as business women and cabaret singers and chefs (not cooks) and mothers. Their voices are heard. They will not stop talking.
Recommended reading/listening
“What’s Going on with RHONY?” by Evan Ross Katz
This podcast episode where journalist Elizabeth Day talks about the show’s cultural impact
“Bye-Bye RHONY“ on The Cut
See you next week!
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