The first time a boy admitted to having a crush on me, I was 10 years old. Prior to that I remember feeling like a late bloomer in relation to the friends who had already navigated their first “relationship,” particularly when I learned that one of them was regularly making out with her boyfriend in the canyon behind our school. I constantly wondered when it would finally be my turn to receive the attention associated with a weeks-long childhood romance. As it turned out, that time would come almost immediately after my parents finally gave in to my pleas to straighten my misshapen afro.
It’s impossible to know the degree to which those two milestones were correlated – but from that point on I associated my straight hair with dateability, and subjected my tresses to chemical warfare for years to come as a result. When I did finally branch out to other styles, I stressed over how best to showcase every variation on my dating profiles to ensure no future dates felt catfished. I’ve cursed my hair for ruining multiple date night looks, either by recoiling as soon as I got within one mile of the ocean, or refusing to comply altogether after I’d spent hours on a failed roller set. And against my better judgment, I’ve gone so far as to question whether certain hairstyles ever impacted guys’ decisions to end things, or to avoid pursuing them altogether.
I never expected to hear these sentiments echoed on The Bachelor, as vulnerable discussions about contestants’ pasts always seem to fit one of the following tropes of deep-rooted familial/relationship trauma:
“I have experienced the loss of a family member / have helped a family member through an illness” (Read: This is an objectively good person who deserves to find love)
“At least one of my parents has let me down in some way” (Read: We are rooting for this person to find the love that was missing from their home)
“I have suffered heartbreak at the hands of someone who I thought was the one” (Read: We are invested in watching this person learn to open up and love again)
Confessionals that aren’t objectively tragic or heartbreaking tend to seem underwhelming in comparison…
or run the risk of just looking out of touch.
Chelsea Vaughn’s explanation of the journey that led to her eventual decision to shave her head was a refreshing departure from the traditional tentpole narratives. While it was extremely validating for myself and other black females who have shared similar sentiments, a great deal of Bachelor Nation has no frame of reference for this experience, and understandably cannot relate as a result. By opening up about hair, a topic that is quite literally surface-level, Chelsea took on the added responsibility of educating about how cultural pressures and deep-rooted insecurities made this meaningful to her personal experience – an explanation that is simply not needed when someone reveals a broken heart or broken home.
Ideally, conversations that touch on race wouldn’t be mandated by the casting of a Black lead, and would instead arise organically in moments that felt relevant regardless of who the Bachelor / Bachelorette is. Historically, this hasn’t been the case, but it felt like ABC’s decision to open this season with an [admittedly surface level] exchange between Matt and Chris Harrison around the pressures associated with being the first Black Bachelor was a commitment to engaging in these discussions going forward, and that Chelsea’s story would be the one to kick things off as the season began to shift away from the pettier initial drama in favor of the deeper connections.
My hope was for a Bachelor season that evolved into thoughtful discussions around the shared experience of growing up with an interracial background, or insight into contestants’ experiences dating outside of their race. Instead, we’ve been served a cringeworthy and tone deaf interview that has sparked debate at best and vitriol at worst, and are left reading into Matt’s social media posts and post-Bachelor beard for clues into how he truly feels about the situation.
Matt James’ season didn’t have to be controversial in order to make a positive impact on the franchise. A relatively uneventful season could have normalized diverse leads without the added weight of answering for past casting transgressions and scandals. Instead, Chris Harrison unwittingly hand delivered us the very thing he’s been promising for years – the most dramatic season in Bachelor history.
