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In eighth grade, my friends held a one-day recess workshop called “Teach Emily to Be a Bitch.”
The goal was very clearly stated.
I don’t remember exactly what inspired the lesson, but it must have involved my highly sensitive nature. Whenever I was teased, I didn’t retort — I cried.
My friends wanted me to fight back.
As a child actor, I was conditioned to be a people pleaser. My employment hinged on being pleasant and accommodating. “Easy to work with.” When I was hurt, I kept my mouth shut — or worse, blamed myself.
Despite the forty-five minute workshop, led by the girls who’d previously held me down and spread “icy-hot” across my chest and forced me to watch “The Ring” even though I was terrified — I did not learn to be a bitch.
And not much has changed since middle school.
When I was wronged or hurt, I thought — it must be my fault. I did not get mad; I got sad.
Until I started watching THE REAL HOUSEWIVES.
I had always kept BRAVO at arm’s length; perceiving myself as “above” the reality TV industrial complex. I read “literature” and watched “films” (while scrolling mindlessly on social media, duh).
I can’t pinpoint what made me start watching — if it was the constant memes from gay-male creators gagged by these fabulous women, or the ladies beside me on the CRUNCH treadmills who were entertained for miles by the silicone-plumped women — but one night, alone in my former bachelorette pad, I decided, what the hell — let’s see what it’s all about.
I started with Season 1 Episode 1 of THE REAL HOUSEWIVES OF NEW YORK.
It premiered in 2008; post-financial crisis and pre-Instagram. Bethenny Frankel was the “down on her luck” single housewife scrappin’ by, Luanne was still a Countess. There were Blackberries and fedoras and unironic skinny jeans and statement necklaces.
As a former history major, I was intrigued to watch this time capsule of city life — an anthropological study of Manhattan’s ELITE (I told myself). And while I used “academia” as an excuse to hit “next episode” — I was sucked into these women’s lives.
I watched all 15 seasons of RHONY. Roughly 210 hours. Almost nine full days of my life.
And what kept me watching, episode after episode, was the fighting.
Unlike me, these women did not let anything go.
A side-eye, an off-handed comment, a quote to the Post.
Everything was fair game for a seasons-long conflict that erupted into major confrontation.
And if you didn’t fight back — you weren’t asked back.
The series cycled through a cast of rotating players. The women who survived the franchise — and built multi-million dollar empires — were the ones who brawled.
Sure, it’s entertaining to watch the women throw drinks and break glasses and flip tables and meltdown. But beyond the sheer shock value, I saw something important — I saw women standing up for themselves.
I realized that I was a complete push-over.
Conflict-avoidant under the guise of “being chill” and “well-liked.”
While I don’t necessarily think the Housewives are role models — seeing them go apeshit on each other — unlocked a deeply buried feminine rage inside me.
I started saying, “no,” telling people they’d hurt me, and fighting back when I was being gaslit or bulldozed.
It was itchy and uncomfortable and painful. I still feel the urge to say, “I’m sorry, let’s forget about it.” Or ask, “are you mad at me?”
But the Housewives never do.
Luanne does not give a flying-fuck if you’re mad at her.
So, I borrowed the Housewives’ confidence until it became my own.
Yes, I know it’s reality TV (which means it’s scripted) — but if we’ve learned from heroes in literature and films… why not take a thing or two from these women?
Our fights don’t need to be as dramatic as throwing limbs on a table or screaming at each other in Saint Barths — but women are socialized to be pleasant and quiet and submissive.
The Housewives are anything but.
And although it can take seasons, the Housewives always made up — or at least made peace. Perhaps, falsely, promising me that there can always be a resolution — which made confrontation less terrifying.
How have the Housewives changed you? Any other shows or characters that have impacted your life? Let’s talk about it in the comments. xx
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