Should Love Island be renamed 'Simone de Beauvoir Island'?

Since the first series, Love Island has become somewhat of a feminist paradise, raising awareness of and reflecting the sexism that exists in life

As tempting as it is to dismiss the show as parallel universe, slut shaming, double standards and gaslighting happen in the real world too (Love Island/ITV)

Until a month ago I was a Love Island virgin (I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere). In many ways, it was a simpler time.

But tired of being left out, and since it would appear that the only thing more appealing than applying to be on Love Island is talking about it on social media, I decided this year that it was finally time to screw my courage to the sticking place and immerse myself in literally hours of melts, sorts and grafters. (There’s definitely a whiff of the Shakespearean in this brave new world of date-related lingo.)

It’s why I’ve spent significant swathes of the recent heatwave huddled indoors with only the flickering, greenish light of my TV for company, binge-watching series one of the show (for context and grounding) and also its current iteration (because you can’t really comment if all your information is years out of date).

And you know what? There really are one or two profound revelations about the state of gender relations hiding beneath the azure blue surface of the swimming pool.

Here’s the good news then: this series of Love Island, for all of the usual wall-to-wall skinny, gorgeous, straight folk, is so much more feminist than series one that it should probably just go all the way and rename itself “Simone de Beauvoir Island” instead.

OK, that might be hyperbole, but really… let me convince you – it probably qualifies as at least a Spice Girl.

For starters, the first series is literally jam-packed with rampant slut shaming. And worse, slut shaming at which no one bats an eyelid, so utterly is it assumed to be a perfectly fair and sensible perspective. Eventual winner Jess Hayes is belittled and bullied for being sexual and the boys’ tendency to put the women on the island into “quick shag” versus “marriage material” boxes is so blatant that they may as well use actual boxes and be done with it.

Newcomer Naomi frequently dismisses Jess as “so slutty it’s embarrassing” and not only accepts the double standard when it comes to men and women’s sexual conquests but actively promotes it, suggesting that one night stands are somehow different for boys. Yeah, absolutely Naomi. Sounds fair to me. Perhaps having jobs, owning property and getting to vote should all be different for men too.

Now, the current series is far from in a position to boast a clean sweep when it comes to, y’know, allowing women to do anything much more than smile coyly as men paw at them. But some of the women in the villa do at least offer the tentative suggestion that it might be alright for them to like sex too.

Megan and Rosie have a rather sweet conversation early on, just after Rosie has shared a bed with Adam (more on him later!) in which they come to the following epiphany: “It’s 2018! Women are allowed to admit that we enjoy sex and we’re not slags for that.” I mean, yes, this, a hundred times this – it’s a shame that it still feels a radical moment on the show but it’s really nice to see the women themselves spitting out the internalised sexism that is rife in series one.

2015’s winner Jess was belittled for being sexual and dismissed as ‘so slutty it’s embarrassing’ (ITV)

Speaking of sweet moments, it’s also noticeable that there are significantly more of them between the women in the villa in Love Island 2018. Female friendship is actually a thing some of the women spend time talking about – even if they still don’t quite qualify as Bechdel test-beating conversations. Georgia goes to share a bed with Rosie after she is dumped by Adam for instance, and the two of them fall asleep holding hands.

And Samira and Dani seem to form a genuine and heartfelt bond that is about more than just stealing each other’s makeup. It’s sort of lovely to see this happening even in the rabid, gladiatorial world of Love Island, where a soap opera blend of jealousy, lust and too many double vodka Red Bulls is usually more likely to win the day than #girlsquad goals.

By contrast, in series one, it’s very much the boys who band together. And whose loyalty to each other is unconditional in a way which is either admirable or horrifying – I struggle to decide which. House patriarch Jon will brook no threats to his gurning, man-child prodigy Josh regardless of how badly he behaves. And there’s even an edge of suppressed menace to conversations about the idea that any of the women might be the ones to dupe any of the men.

This year’s Georgia and Rosie seem to form a genuine and heartfelt bond after a breakup (ITV)

In fairness though, boys club is still alive and well in 2018 too, and in a surprisingly literal sense – the Do Bits Society, so named because its members all, well, do bits. In the Love Island bedroom. At night. Oh for goodness sake, I mean SEXUAL STUFF! The thing is though, the achingly heterosexual nature of Love Island means that doing bits really requires two participants and yet it’s the boys who call the meetings and the boys who clamour for membership.

And once again, there’s a certain degree of wilful tolerance – and even envy – when it comes to the behaviour of fellow possessors of the sacred penis.

Just look at Adam Collard – 2018’s most notorious f***boy. He smirks as he makes women cry and rolls his cold, beady little reptile eyes when challenged, but the other boys in the house are still universally in awe of him.

Adam’s behaviour has prompted cries of ‘Gaslighting!’ and experts say he has shown ‘clear warning signs’ (ITV)

It’s a bit worrying that even the men who don’t do this themselves still seem to feel it’s something to be admired.

The ray of light at the end of this tunnel of toxic masculinity is that the reaction outside the house to Adam’s actions has been one of unequivocal condemnation. As well as ditching Rosie and laughing at her when she tries to tell him how upset she is, he also pretty much implies that her take on the situation is silly, flawed and emotional and part of what’s driven him away.

And while cries of “Gaslighting!” might seem melodramatic, a statement from the chief executive of Women’s Aid, Katie Ghose, suggests otherwise: “There are clear warning signs in Adam’s behaviour. In a relationship, a partner questioning your memory of events, trivialising your thoughts or feelings, and turning things around to blame you can be part of pattern of gaslighting and emotional abuse.”

Meanwhile the token ‘nice guy’, Dr Alex, expects a medal for simply behaving like a reasonable human (ITV)

Not bad awareness-raising at the end of the day for a silly little reality TV show about “My mate likes you...” And I can’t help but feel that there would have been less public consciousness about this sort of behaviour back in 2015.

But just as some things change for the better, others remain depressingly stagnant. “Nice guys” inside the villa still seem to expect an actual medal (and ideally sex with the woman of their dreams) just for behaving like vaguely reasonable humans. (Yes I am looking at you Dr Alex.) And the contestants themselves are like identikit Ibiza dolls, universally thin and pretty and young.

It means that if you’re in any way on the edge of this mould – a few years older say or with darker skin – you’re likely to be considered some strangely exotic niche case. People better qualified than me have called out some of the problematic racial insensitivities in the show and there seems to be very little movement on this. It’s not just that progress is slow – it seems to be nonexistent.

‘Nice girl’ Dani Dyer is sure to win the public’s hearts, and she’s certainly won mine (ITV)

This strange social uniformity also means we see surreal moments like the point in series one where the boys essentially suggest that the women in the house aren’t that beautiful. “I was disappointed when I first came in here,” one enlightened gentleman states. “I’ve literally lowered my standards by going from 10s down to…”

“Not even sixes?” pipes up another. In 2018 there is at least more of an acknowledgement that pretty much everyone in the villa is conventionally beautiful – but all this does really is ensure that how you look in your bikini is still at the top of the list when it comes to how desirable you are.

There’s also a moment in the most recent series where the boys are forced to dress up as firemen and gyrate their way around a faux obstacle course for the girls’ amusement.

It’s like watching a really weird hen party from the Eighties. And it only reinforces the idea of “girl jobs” and “boys jobs”. (Theresa May would be proud.) All of this matters when you have an audience of 3.7 million. Is this really where we still are?

I do have one final observation from my recent lost hours – and please don’t send me hate mail for this next part – I like Dani. I really do! I’m just wondering if maybe there’s something in the fact that the girl who couples up early on, stays relatively chaste in front of the cameras and basically follows all of the rules when it comes to being a “nice girl” is the one who wins the public’s heart. I want to believe that she’s so popular because she seems like a fundamentally decent human, but I worry that some of the old prejudices might have their part to play.

And I can’t help but retain a secret soft spot for chain smoking, tantrum throwing series one winner Jess, with her giggle straight out of a Carry On movie, not least because there’s something rather thrilling about an “imperfect” woman ultimately coming out on top.

The thing is, it’s tempting to dismiss Love Island as some weird, sunny, parallel universe full of six packs and chest augmentations. And, OK, it kind of is. But the slut shaming, the friendships and the stereotypes – all of these things exist outside too. And so whether we like it or not Love Island is a mirror of sorts. Maybe that’s why so many of us are fascinated by its reflection.