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'Love is Blind' is mired in lawsuits. What does that mean for reality TV?

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'Love is Blind' is mired in lawsuits. What does that mean for reality TV?

Contestants on Love is Blind live apart from one another and do not see each other before agreeing to be married.

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The hugely popular Netflix reality show Love is Blind purports to be an experiment where contestants have a chance to fall in love — sight unseen. After “dating” through a wall in small pods, the men and women get engaged, meet in person and then decide at the altar whether or not to commit to a real, legally binding marriage.

But some members have accused the show’s production company of exploitation, and two former cast members have formed a group to help connect reality show contestants to legal and mental health resources.  

“There are a lot of problems with this show,” TV critic Emily Nussbaum says of Love is Blind. “The problem with it is the way the show is run, and frankly, the way that almost all modern reality shows are run. Dating shows, I think specifically, have a lot of these dark qualities that viewers and fans of them don’t know about.”

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A staff writer for The New Yorker, Nussbaum wrote about the show in her May 2024 article, “Is Love is Blind a Toxic Workplace?” She chronicles the origins of the genre and its importance to our culture in Cue the Sun! The Invention of Reality Television.

Nussbaum says reality television is a “genuinely powerful modern genre” that developed over decades, and which affects everything from personal relationships to politics. She notes that it’s common for contestants to sign extremely aggressive non-disclosure agreements that prevent cast members from discussing the making of the shows.

“They can’t talk about what their producer did, if their producer lied to them, if their producer made them cry by asking them numerous personal questions based on their psychiatric evaluation forms, and then took that crying out of context in the edit,” Nussbaum says. “They can’t talk about any of that, or they may get sued.”

Nussbaum notes that there have been a series of lawsuits related to Love is Blind. One suit, which has been settled, accused the show’s creators of underpaying, underfeeding and pushing alcohol on contestants. In another suit, a cast member accuses the show’s producers of facilitating false imprisonment and sexual assault.

“All of these lawsuits are dealing with a mixture of things: the extremely oppressive contracts, … abuse and exploitation on the show and dealing with the labor conditions,” Nussbaum says. “And [the lawsuits] don’t only have to do with Love Is Blind. [They are] addressing terrible labor conditions and terrible legal conditions and … the people who go on these shows and who work on these shows as worthy of decent treatment.”

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Interview highlights

On reality shows as “dirty documentaries”

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When I call them “dirty documentary” what I mean is they take documentary techniques and they create formats that put pressure on the people inside them. And the less the people inside [the shows] know about what’s going to happen, the more powerful, and to some degree authentic, their emotional responses are.

Cue the Sun!

On how the earliest form of reality programming took place on radio

The earliest form of reality television that I talk about was actually before TV. … There was this explosion of shows on radio that also cast just regular people, and that created a similar kind of moral outcry, where people were sort of appalled that regular people were going on the air. And I’m talking here about shows like Candid Microphone, which was the first version of Candid Camera, Allen Funt’s prank show, and Queen for a Day, where a bunch of ordinary women went on and told really distressing stories about their personal suffering in their marriages, their poverty, abuse, sickness and things like that. And so people were very upset about the fact that ordinary people were going on the air. There was no such thing as reality casting at the time. I mean, this was just an opportunity for regular people to go on radio, and later on TV, and participate in these shows, sometimes for prizes. Like, on Queen for a Day, the person who won [was] based on a clap-o-meter, like other women rating them [on] who had the ugliest life — their motive for going on the show was obviously that they could win these prizes.

On Love is Blind contestant Renee Poche being hit with a lawsuit for talking about her bad experience 

She definitely, as time went by, wanted to back out of the whole thing. But as on all reality shows, it’s a collaboration between the cast and the crew, and there’s all sorts of psychological things that keep you moving forward, even if you have doubts. Essentially, I think the message that she got was that she should keep going because … part of the show is that at the end of it, you’d go to the altar and you can say no to it. So it just kept rolling forward. …

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She felt threatened by [Carter, her fiancé on the show]. She was only going to film scenes with him when she went over there to be with him. But ultimately they did move forward to the altar. I mean, the bigger deal is that Renee wasn’t allowed to talk about what happened on the show. She wasn’t actually featured on the season. She and Carter were treated as kind of side characters. Their story was cut down very much at the last minute, and once she began to talk about what Carter was like, that she had felt threatened by him, that she felt pressured to move forward with the show, that’s when she got slammed with the lawsuit.

Nobody’s allowed to talk about the negative aspects of what they experience on the show, because there is a threat of these lawsuits. Generally, people haven’t been sued. Renee was, and I feel that that was a message to everybody. If you experience anything that’s exploitative or abusive while making a reality show, not just Love is Blind, but any show and you speak out about it, you’re at risk of getting sued.

On the private arbitration that keeps controversy out of the public eye

Emily Nussbaum won the Pulitzer Prize for criticism in 2016.

Emily Nussbaum TK

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Essentially, it keeps the public, including fans of these shows, from understanding the actual conditions in which they’re made. And most of the time when people talk about their experiences on the show, they’re not sued. But the one person who was sued recently, who I wrote about in my article, was sued for $4 million. And I think that sends a significant message. There are multiple motives for people not to speak out about any of this. And frankly, these conditions in these contracts are absolutely standard for the industry. I think people who watch the show not only don’t know about that, but they often just don’t sympathize with it. The dominant feeling is: You decided to go on it, so anything that happens, you should have expected it. I think that shows a lack of compassion, but also I think it shows a lack of understanding of exactly what the conditions are that we’re dealing with here.

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On how reality show participants have few protections

One thing I found while I was working on this piece was about a workplace category that they’re in, in terms of Hollywood unions. They’re called “bona fide amateurs,” which is to say, they’re not scripted performers. That would be in SAG, like actresses, and they’re not unscripted performers that would be in SAG, like, say, TV hosts and things like that. But they’re also not the subjects of documentary, who are in a different category and have a little control. They’re essentially contestants on game shows. They’re designated as a category that is sort of non-official and has no protections or rights of any kind. And so what I was writing about in this piece was that the first glimmerings of a movement to try to win protections, and also just to try to educate the general population about how these shows are made and what these issues are, and to improve things, because I think some of the people at the center of this movement, it’s not like they’re saying you couldn’t make an ethical reality show. They’re saying that right now, the way reality shows are made is non ethical, really, both for cast and crew. They’re non-unionized sets. People don’t have a lot of rights. And the conventions and history of the genre have a lot of ugly things about them.

Thea Chaloner and Susan Nyakundi produced and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper and Meghan Sullivan adapted it for the web.

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South L.A.'s hottest dance party happens at 'Granny's house' — and it feels revolutionary

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South L.A.'s hottest dance party happens at 'Granny's house' — and it feels revolutionary

On a breezy Saturday evening in South L.A., the sounds of heavy kick drums and electric claps trail down the block from a tan, two-story house with a well-manicured lawn. Through the large front window, passersby can catch a glimpse of a DJ in a dimly lighted living room, meticulously turning knobs on a mixer and blending house records together. In the dining room, about 15 people dance and socialize under a crystal chandelier. Dark liquor flows into red cups. A man sits between a woman’s legs as she braids his hair into cornrows, while another guest taps a tambourine to the beat of the music.

From a distance, this scene may look like a typical house party, which is exactly the allure of “Black House Radio,” a YouTube show and L.A. event series spotlighting Black DJs who specialize in house music. Throughout the gathering, no one pays much attention to the cameras recording, and for the hundreds of thousands of viewers at home, watching the videos feels like you’ve been ushered into a high energy kickback.

Winston jams out at Black House Radio.

At a time when DJs are showcasing their skills in creative ways and in sometimes unexpected settings — at parks, on elevators, at the beach, inside loft apartments, in the subway and at laundromats — “Black House Radio” stands out because of its familial charm and devotion to the genre it highlights.

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“I want ‘Black House Radio’ to feel like a warm, nostalgic hug from a grandmother,” says founder Michael Donte, who’s also a filmmaker, producer and DJ. He hosts the intimate gathering roughly once a month at his best friend Jeremy’s ancestral house, which his late grandparents bought in 1963 after moving to L.A. from Millport, Ala., during the Second Great Migration. Everything in the home, including a blue-patterned couch, teal-colored carpet, vintage drapes and framed family photos, is in the same place it’s been since the 1970s.

“Black house music was made in our homes,” says Donte. He adds that he felt frustrated when he would go out and see more white DJs getting booked to play house music than Black performers, who created and popularized the genre in the 1970s. Aside from at select events like newcomer TheyHouse and Utopia, which have been elevating house music in L.A. for years. “[A white DJ is] very different than a Black person playing house music — it’s just a feeling.”

A man in glasses, a cap and a white shirt smiles for the camera.

“I think my friends and I do a good job of making it a safe space for people to show up as themselves, and that’s just beautiful to watch,” says founder Michael Donte.

Family photos displayed on the wall.

Family photos displayed on the wall.

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After getting laid off last year from his job as a creative executive for YouTube Originals, Donte learned how to DJ, and then launched “Black House Radio” to bring the genre back home, literally, by hosting events in spaces that are vital to the Black community, such as family homes, hair salons, barber shops and churches.

Donte hosted the first “Black House Radio” event the day before Thanksgiving in 2023 and served collard greens and cornbread. About a dozen of his friends showed up with their own soul food dishes, while he and three other L.A.-based DJs — Naygod, Silhouwet, DJ Bodii — provided the soundtrack for the hours-long event.

Video by Kailyn Brown / Los Angeles Times; Photo by Zay Monae / For The Times

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DJ Terrell Brooke and DJ Chinua embrace each other at "Black House Radio."

DJ Terrell Brooke and DJ Chinua embrace each other.

Then, in February, during Black History Month, Donte began posting live sets from that November day on YouTube, where he’s since acquired more than 50,000 subscribers and has built a community of loyal house heads who look forward to every drop. The most watched video so far is a set by Ashley Younniä, which had nearly 425,000 views on YouTube as of late June.

Some of L.A.’s most exciting DJs have been past guests, including Terrell Brooke (founder of TheyHouse and co-creator of Casual, Mez (who runs an event called Signal Underground), Rush Davis (a singer, producer, creative director and DJ) and Chrysalis (who toured with singer Rochelle Jordan).

Shaun Ross immediately knew he wanted to be a part of “Black House Radio” when one of his friends shared its Instagram page with him.

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“I feel like it’s a train to get on — to actually bring back Black house music,” says Ross, a celebrated model, DJ and recording artist. He’s performed at two “Black House Radio” functions so far. “A lot of DJs don’t really play Black house music, and I feel like today, the world has this wrong notion of what house music is so when you play it, people are like, ‘It’s not hype enough. It’s not giving me a Vegas show.’”

Ross says the YouTube show also gives younger generations the opportunity to go back and look at people who are uplifting house music today. “I love that it’s Black and queer, and I love that it’s healing for everybody here,” adds Ross, who hosts a house music party called “Stardust.”

A nostalgic-looking fridge.

Michael Donte keeps the house as it is for each of the “Black House Radio” recordings.

"Black House" attendees socialize in the kitchen over slices of pizza and homemade pound cake.

“Black House” attendees socialize in the kitchen over slices of pizza and homemade pound cake.

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Back at the party, Vaughan Higgins pours herself a drink in the kitchen as other attendees grab slices of pizza and homemade pound cake. Higgins regularly goes to Black and queer events in L.A. but says being inside a Black ancestral house carries an extra layer of significance for her.

“It mainly makes me think of resistance and survival,” says the L.A.-born musician, who decided to attend because her friend DJ Nico was spinning. “The fact that this house is even still in Black hands and they are using it to bring Black joy — that is all a part of this. It’s really beautiful.”

In many of the YouTube videos, Donte infuses archival footage — some that he’s found online and others that his friends have given him — of Black families dancing at cookouts or participating in praise and worship at church — his way of preserving Black culture, he says.

“That’s one thing I feel like is missing from video streaming,” says Sevyn, who performed a groovy DJ set for Black House Radio in April. “I feel like compared to other streaming things I’ve done, this one just has a story and also, I’ve been here. This is my granny’s house. It’s familiar.”

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Although each of “Black House Radio’s” YouTube sets, which typically start in the afternoon and go into the evening, are invite-only due to limited space at the house, Donte has recently started hosting public events so house aficionados can enjoy the experience offline.

DJ Nico grins between sips of Auntie's Coffee cold brew after her set.

Dj Nico, a sound selector visiting from Memphis, Tenn., grins between sips of Auntie’s Coffee cold brew after her set.

The first one, called “Church,” was held in June at the Pico Union Project, a nonprofit housed in a building that was once home to Sinai Temple (built in 1909). Like at the house functions, Donte displayed framed portraits around the space, which had church pews, flameless candles and a piano. (Video cameras were here too, but Donte doesn’t plan to release a video. You just had to be there.) He’s also got his eyes set on doing a Black house music festival in the near future.

When he reflects on the rise of “Black House Radio,” Donte says he thinks people connect with the show because of its authenticity.

“It’s not trying to be unique,” he says. “It’s not trying to be something different or new. I want it to feel familiar. I want you to be able to smell what you see on that TV. You know what that house smells like. You know what the carpet feels like. You know what the food is probably on the stove.”

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Video by Kailyn Brown / Los Angeles Times; Photo by Zay Monae / For The Times

Shaun Ross at Black House Radio.

Shaun Ross at Black House Radio.

(Justin Lawson)

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He adds, “I think my friends and I do a good job of making it a safe space for people to show up as themselves, and that’s just beautiful to watch.”

Around 8 p.m., when the last DJ finishes their set, one person shouts, “Keep the party going.” Donte hops back onto the decks and plays upbeat house music. Two guests vogue in the living room, and attendees socialize over more drinks. The cameras are no longer recording, but no one cares or even notices. They are in the company of family. They are at home.

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Hail Caesar salad! Born 100 years ago in Tijuana

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Hail Caesar salad! Born 100 years ago in Tijuana

The Caesar salad was born 100 years ago, on July 4, 1924, in Tijuana, Mexico. Above, the grilled romaine Caesar salad at Boucherie, a restaurant in uptown New Orleans.

Randy Schmidt/Boucherie


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Randy Schmidt/Boucherie

On the occasion of its 100th birthday, you can find countless versions of the Caesar salad being consumed across the United States. They’re prepared tableside at fine dining restaurants, at the counters of fast casual salad chains and served up at McDonald’s with chicken cutlets and cherry tomatoes.

Chef Nathanial Zimet insists on using boquerones in the grilled Caesar salads at his New Orleans restaurant Boucherie. The marinated white Spanish anchovies, he says, are far superior to the salt-cured kind. Romaine spears, he adds, are immune to wilting over flame.

“It’s almost like it locks in the crunch of it,” he says, as the vivid green leaves curl and darken during a quick sear. He arranges the lettuce on a plate, drizzles it with dressing (lemon, garlic, Worcestershire and Tabasco) then generously scatters chunky basil croutons and craggy parmesan shavings on top.

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“Is it cold? No. Is it hot? No. Is it cooked? No. Is it charred? Absolutely.”

Not many classic dishes can claim a specific birthday. But the Caesar salad was created for the very first time on July 4, 1924, in Tijuana, Mexico.

It is not a Mexican salad, says Jeffrey Pilcher. He’s a culinary historian who studies Mexican foodways.

“This is an Italian salad,” Pilcher says. “Caesar Cardini, the inventor of the salad, was an Italian immigrant and there were many Italian immigrants to Mexico.”

Tijuana, built into a bustling border town by a mélange of people, including Mexicans, the Chinese and North Americans, had no distinctive indigenous cuisine in 1924, Pilcher says. During Prohibition, tourists flocked to its spas, bullfights and nightclubs, where they could enjoy perfectly legal cocktails.

Cardini’s original restaurant, on Avenida Revolución in downtown Tijuana, is still open for business. The original Caesar salad remains on the menu. As the story goes, Caesar’s was overwhelmed by holiday partiers on that fateful July 4. They gobbled up everything but a few pantry staples: olive oil, parmesan, egg, Worcestershire sauce and lettuce. Someone, perhaps Cardini or possibly his brother, scraped the provisions together into a big wooden bowl. Caesar’s salad was a hit.

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A vegan Caesar salad.

A vegan Caesar salad.

J.M. Hirsch/AP


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J.M. Hirsch/AP

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Over the years, the dish has morphed from what’s now called a “classic Caesar salad” (recipe here from our friends at PBS Food) into what writer Ellen Cushing has derided as “unchecked Caesar-salad fraud” in a very funny recent article in The Atlantic.

“In October,” she writes, “the food magazine Delicious posted a list of “Caesar” recipes that included variations with bacon, maple syrup, and celery; asparagus, fava beans, smoked trout, and dill; and tandoori prawns, prosciutto, kale chips, and mung-bean sprouts. The so-called Caesar at Kitchen Mouse Cafe, in Los Angeles, includes “pickled carrot, radish & coriander seeds, garlicky croutons, crispy oyster mushrooms, lemon dressing.”

But Nathanial Zimet believes the Caesar salad endures precisely because of these liberties, not in spite of them. The Boucherie chef thinks the salad can be a showcase for innovation while remaining rooted in resourcefulness and kitchen creativity. It is, he says, a salad for today. Maybe even for always.

Edited for radio and the web by Jennifer Vanasco.

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Tennis Star Andrey Rublev Beats Himself With Racket In Wild Wimbledon Meltdown

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Tennis Star Andrey Rublev Beats Himself With Racket In Wild Wimbledon Meltdown

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