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I started watching Selling Sunset in 2019 because my coworkers were talking about it, and I wanted to be friends with them. My boss at the time was a culturista before I’d even heard the word culturista. He always knew the best restaurant to eat at, the best same-sex attracted parties I was too shy to go to, what movies were actually worth watching. And he was raving about this brand-new show, Selling Sunset, that was so utterly ridiculous it simply could not be ignored. So I started watching.

I never really watched reality TV before that, not seriously. I’d seen a few episodes of Fear Factor growing up (tbt) and watched obligatory episodes of Keeping Up With the Kardashians in group settings, but I’d never really been hooked. I hadn’t understood the appeal, to be honest.

This was different. I was immediately invested. What drew me in was the way these people — I always wish to say characters, but they are people — embodied womanhood and femininity, in ways that I found compellingly contradictory. On one hand, they embody the stereotype of the LA bimbo — she’s pale, thin, rich, cis, she’s wearing full-face 24/7, and her biggest goal is to make buckets and buckets of money.

But on the oth