The Real World

When I was 12, my family and I spent the summer in Seattle. Besides the rain and the gateway to my Starbucks addiction, what I remember most about the trip is driving past Pier 70. I’d been quietly searching for this seaside abode from the moment we touched down in the Emerald City and as we drove by I felt like I was actually watching Stephen throw Lyme-diseased Irene’s teddy bear into the water amid her discerning cackle as she outs him, without permission, on national television. I felt like I was in the car with David as he had his heart wrenching breakdown after being told to discontinue his relationship with MTV casting director Kira ‘-‘- but how, I wondered, is true love a ‘conflict of interest’?

I remembered other seasons of The Real World, too: how openly gay Pedro Zamora’s battle with AIDS made him more than just another statistic, how Mormon Julie Stoffer was suspended from BYU for participating in a show that had men and women living together, how people’s sexuality, race and upbringing were no longer their defining characteristics. Although MTV’s longest running show began as a make-shift social experiment in 1992, it became something else in the entirely in the early ’00s (amid competition from the likes of Big Brother and Survivor): a booze-filled orgy of pretty people who wanted to be on reality TV.

Maybe once reality became a sellable commodity (and, might I add, no longer reality) MTV gave in to the ‘The Man,’ but whatever it was, I can confidently say I would watch all of the seasons of The Real World from 1992 ‘- 2000 locked in looped succession for the rest of my life than ever see the frat-boy-meets-stripper-girl ridiculousness that was Real World: Las Vegas. The subsequent attempts weren’t much better. Once MTV realized that sex sold they threw away the substance they created and, along with it, a real chance to quash some social prejudices that still plague American society today.

After 10 years of partying it’s no wonder that The Real World became pretty tired and ready to get out of ‘The City’ and back to its roots in Brooklyn. I didn’t plan on watching the show because, among other previously stated issues, Justin Timberlake and I have something in common beyond using a scarf as a major accessory: we believe that Music Television should play music videos. However, the New England winter found me in front of the TV last week giving my old flame another go. The 21st season now has eight strangers living in a house (not the normal seven) that have rejuvenated the experiment that started 17 years ago in New York City. And no, this isn’t just because there’s a transgender on the show, this is because MTV has cast people with issues that reach out, like Zamora did, to a wide demographic of young viewers and expose them to the social stigmas some American’s face on a daily basis because of how they choose to live.

While Katelynn, the transgender, is apt to be as informative on the misconceptions surrounding her sexual orientation, there are other underlying issues MTV’s casting directors took into account this time around. For example, they cast Chett, a Republican Mormon ‘-‘-‘ one of the largest groups to outwardly oppose Prop 8 ‘-‘- with openly gay and very liberal roommates. They also cast Ryan, who has returned from Iraq and come to Brooklyn with a much different opinion about the war he was so eager to join post-September 11. While Ryan might seem ignorant (he calls Katelynn ‘it’ on the first episode, and questions sexually abused bisexual Sara on her decision to date a man when she has always been with women) he is still a war hero. Where do we draw the line? Will he understand his roommates’ struggles, their own inner wars, or will he project his trauma on them?

Let the social experiment ensue. At 17, The Real World is finally getting out of its awkward phase, and instead of beaking up, I’m getting back together with it. Hopefully our second chance won’t end in heartache.