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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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Mundane, magic, maybe both — a new book explores ‘The Writer’s Room’

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Mundane, magic, maybe both — a new book explores ‘The Writer’s Room’

There’s a three-story house in Baltimore that looks a bit imposing. You walk up the stone steps before even getting up to the porch, and then you enter the door and you’re greeted with a glass case of literary awards. It’s The Clifton House, formerly home of Lucille Clifton.

The National Book Award-winning poet lived there with her husband, Fred, starting in 1967 until the bank foreclosed on the house in 1980. Clifton’s daughter, Sidney Clifton, has since revived the house and turned it into a cultural hub, hosting artists, readings, workshops and more. But even during a February visit, in the mid-afternoon with no organized events on, the house feels full.

The corner of Lucille Clifton's bedroom, where she would wake up and write in the mornings

The corner of Lucille Clifton’s bedroom, where she would wake up and write in the mornings

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“There’s a presence here,” Clifton House Executive Director Joël Díaz told me. “There’s a presence here that sits at attention.”

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Sometimes, rooms where famous writers worked can be places of ineffable magic. Other times, they can just be rooms.

The Writer’s Room: The Hidden Worlds That Shape the Books We Love

Princeton University Press

Katie da Cunha Lewin is the author of the new book, The Writer’s Room: The Hidden Worlds That Shape the Books We Love, which explores the appeal of these rooms. Lewin is a big Virginia Woolf fan, and the very first place Lewin visited working on the book was Monk’s House — Woolf’s summer home in Sussex, England. On the way there, there were dreams of seeing Woolf’s desk, of retracing Woolf’s steps and imagining what her creative process would feel like. It turned out to be a bit of a disappointment for Lewin — everything interesting was behind glass, she said. Still, in the book Lewin writes about how she took a picture of the room and saved it on her phone, going back to check it and re-check it, “in the hope it would allow me some of its magic.”

Let’s be real, writing is a little boring. Unlike a band on fire in the recording studio, or a painter possessed in their studio, the visual image of a writer sitting at a desk click-clacking away at a keyboard or scribbling on a piece of paper isn’t particularly exciting. And yet, the myth of the writer’s room continues to enrapture us. You can head to Massachusetts to see where Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. Or go down to Florida to visit the home of Zora Neale Hurston. Or book a stay at the Scott & Zelda Fitzgerald Museum in Alabama, where the famous couple lived for a time. But what, exactly, is the draw?

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Lewin said in an interview that whenever she was at a book event or an author reading, an audience question about the writer’s writing space came up. And yes, some of this is basic fan-driven curiosity. But also “it started to occur to me that it was a central mystery about writing, as if writing is a magic thing that just happens rather than actually labor,” she said.

In a lot of ways, the book is a debunking of the myths we’re presented about writers in their rooms. She writes about the types of writers who couldn’t lock themselves in an office for hours on end, and instead had to find moments in-between to work on their art. She covers the writers who make a big show of their rooms, as a way to seem more writerly. She writes about writers who have had their homes and rooms preserved, versus the ones whose rooms have been lost to time and new real estate developments. The central argument of the book is that there is no magic formula to writing — that there is no daily to-do list to follow, no just-right office chair to buy in order to become a writer. You just have to write.

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Bruce Johnston Retiring From The Beach Boys After 61 Years

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Bruce Johnston Retiring From The Beach Boys After 61 Years

Bruce Johnston
I’m Riding My Last Wave With The Beach Boys

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On the brink of death, a woman is saved by a stranger and his family

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On the brink of death, a woman is saved by a stranger and his family

In 1982, Jean Muenchrath was injured in a mountaineering accident and on the brink of death when a stranger and his family went out of their way to save her life.

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Jean Muenchrath

In early May 1982, Jean Muenchrath and her boyfriend set out on a mountaineering trip in the Sierra Nevada, a mountain range in California. They had done many backcountry trips in the area before, so the terrain was somewhat familiar to both of them. But after they reached one of the summits, a violent storm swept in. It began to snow heavily, and soon the pair was engulfed in a blizzard, with thunder and lightning reverberating around them.

“Getting struck and killed by lightning was a real possibility since we were the highest thing around for miles and lightning was striking all around us,” Muenchrath said.

To reach safer ground, they decided to abandon their plan of taking a trail back. Instead, using their ice axes, they climbed down the face of the mountain through steep and icy snow chutes.

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They were both skilled at this type of descent, but at one particularly difficult part of the route, Muenchrath slipped and tumbled over 100 feet down the rocky mountain face. She barely survived the fall and suffered life-threatening injuries.

This was before cellular or satellite phones, so calling for help wasn’t an option. The couple was forced to hike through deep snow back to the trailhead. Once they arrived, Muenchrath collapsed in the parking lot. It had been five days since she’d fallen.

 ”My clothes were bloody. I had multiple fractures in my spine and pelvis, a head injury and gangrene from a deep wound,” Muenchrath said.

Not long after they reached the trailhead parking lot, a car pulled in. A man was driving, with his wife in the passenger seat and their baby in the back. As soon as the man saw Muenchrath’s condition, he ran over to help.

 ”He gently stroked my head, and he held my face [and] reassured me by saying something like, ‘You’re going to be OK now. I’ll be right back to get you,’” Muenchrath remembered.

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For the first time in days, her panic began to lift.

“My unsung hero gave me hope that I’d reach a hospital and I’d survive. He took away my fears.”

Within a few minutes, the man had unpacked his car. His wife agreed to stay back in the parking lot with their baby in order to make room for Muenchrath, her boyfriend and their backpacks.

The man drove them to a nearby town so that the couple could get medical treatment.

“I remember looking into the eyes of my unsung hero as he carried me into the emergency room in Lone Pine, California. I was so weak, I couldn’t find the words to express the gratitude I felt in my heart.”

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The gratitude she felt that day only grew. Now, nearly 45 years later, she still thinks about the man and his family.

 ”He gave me the gift of allowing me to live my life and my dreams,” Muenchrath said.

At some point along the way, the man gave Muenchrath his contact information. But in the chaos of the day, she lost it and has never been able to find him.

 ”If I knew where my unsung hero was today, I would fly across the country to meet him again. I’d hug him, buy him a meal and tell him how much he continues to mean to me by saving my life. Wherever you are, I say thank you from the depths of my being.”

My Unsung Hero is also a podcast — new episodes are released every Tuesday. To share the story of your unsung hero with the Hidden Brain team, record a voice memo on your phone and send it to myunsunghero@hiddenbrain.org.

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