Love Island USA's Black Women Stars Face Racism and Sexism Despite Driving Franchise Success

The Love Island USA effect is not limited to these four women. The show has also brought notoriety and fame to their male partners and other Islanders, as well. But the breakout stars of the Peacock dating series are experiencing these phenomena on another level, with built-in fanbases that follow and support every campaign they take part in, both on and off social media. In a landscape where fame equates to followers and followers equate to money, these four Black women are raking in the profits and new opportunities their newfound fame has brought, and Black women are to thank for it.

But even as their fans prop them up, it often seems as though they are taken for granted by other Islanders, those cast members’ fanbases, and ITV America and Peacock, which have seen their bottom lines grow significantly as a direct result of the dating franchise. Despite their success, Tatum, Bosse, Harvey, and Moreno have been subjected to constant anti-Black racism and sexism, and the support network that should be there to protect them has been conspicuously absent: There’s been no statement of support or condemnation from the networks, while cast members defend their mistreatment of the core four rather than have their backs. What’s more, the harm to these women is experienced by Black women watching the show as vicarious racism—an indirect exposure to racial and gender discrimination—that elicits feelings of fear, sadness, and anger. (As of publication, representatives from Peacock and ITV America had not responded to a request for comment.)

On the Love Island USA Season 8 reunion, which aired Aug. 31 on Peacock, mistreatment on social media was a recurring theme among the Islanders, specifically the Black Islanders, who spoke about receiving death threats, racial slurs, and discriminatory harassment from fans of the Fiji-set dating franchise. “I don’t stand for racism towards me, towards Titi [Tierra Davis], and any of the other cast members, which is a big reason why I haven’t really been on social media,” said KC Chandler on the reunion stage. “I wanted to get my mind right and really focus on what matters to me, which is my family and my mental health.”

This was not the first time a Black Islander had expressed discontent on the Love Island USA reunion stage. Last year, breakout star Olandria Carthen tearfully spoke about the racism and bullying she experienced from fans of Huda Mustafa, including one who photoshopped her face onto the body of George Floyd. Serena Page, winner of Love Island USA Season 6, told podcast host Kamie Crawford that she talked to production staff about their decision to cast male Islanders who were not attracted to Black women, thus reinforcing the stereotype that Black women are undesirable. And these messages are sent to a massive audience: the most recent season accumulated nearly 19 billion hours of viewing—a streaming record for Peacock.

It is no secret that reality television has historically been unwelcoming and unsafe for Black women. Nor is Love Island USA the first unscripted television show to have a toxic fandom. But the lack of protections for these stars, in addition to being an ethical lapse with serious ramifications for their mental health, could pose a threat to the future of the franchise. Fans are loyal to Islanders more than to the show itself, and if the show’s biggest stars are no longer in its orbit, it becomes harder to keep their devotees in that orbit too. The trio of friends nicknamed PPG—Leah Kateb, Serena Page, and JaNa Craig—who catapulted the unscripted series into fame in Season 6, have publicly distanced themselves from the dating show. Carthen took a similar tack after last year’s reunion. And Moreno claimed not to have tuned in to the Season 8 reunion via an post on the official Shondaland Instagram page.

To be clear, Black women aren’t the only ones who seem to be moving on once their time on the show is done. “ I don't think these people want to be professional reality stars,” says Anna Peele, contributing editor at Vanity Fair and author of Enter the Villa: The Unauthorized Reality Behind Love Island. “ Huda [Mustafa] wanted to keep being on reality TV. I think some of the cast members who left earlier are going to be very happy to be [on its spinoff series] Beyond The Villa.” But for the most part, she explains, they want to pivot or branch out. “These people want to be models, hosts, presenters, DJs. I don't know if those are higher aspirations than being a reality star, but they are different aspirations. The way that you comport yourself is going to be different than continuing to feed the public interest in your private life.”

The franchise has perhaps inadvertently shown fans the downsides of being a part of it. Beyond The Villa became its first spinoff series following the breakout success of Season 6, which saw significant growth in the show’s stateside audience. The spinoff followed the fan favorites of that season as they adjusted to their newfound fame in Los Angeles. The show was meant to be an inside look into the lives of America’s favorite Islanders, but it wasn’t all glamorous. Viewers were privy to these young adults’ experiences of heightened anxiety, depression, struggles with their shifting personal and professional identities, and other issues related to their participation. And its window into Black female cast members’ experiences was grimmest of all. Season 2 of the spinoff did not feature runner-up Nic Vansteenberghe, Carthen, Mustafa, nor Allen “Ace” Steve Greene and Michelle “Chelley” Evelyn Bissainthe, after many of them expressed frustration over the way they were depicted. The spinoff was renewed for a third season, but the likelihood of Season 8's core four joining is slim to none—though contractual obligations mean other new opportunities may be temporarily limited.

Islanders are beholden to a one-year exclusivity clause, an industry standard in reality TV. “It gives the network or streamer veto power over any brand or commercial deals the talent may pursue,” McKinley Franklin explains in the Hollywood Reporter. “And it gives them a window to see if they want to sign up the talent in question for any future shows or spinoffs.” Jade Sherman, head of digital at Gersh—the talent agency that represents Vanderpump Rules alum Ariana Madix, who hosts Love Island USA, as well as Aniya Harvey—spoke about the clause to Variety. “Love Island is an incredible brand, and they try really hard to protect their IP. They’ve put things in place to do that, and it’s on us as representatives to be able to pivot and adapt to where their changing rules are,” she said.

Yet no discussion about the series’ record-breaking viewership or Islanders’ post-show deals is complete without acknowledging the impact of the discourse online. Islanders receive a psychological screening before they begin filming the show, and they have access to on-site psychological support in Fiji. But the support does not seem to adequately address one of the biggest threats to contestants’ wellbeing: fear of their fans. When Peele interviewed former Islanders for Enter The Villa and conversations touched on their hesitancy to step in when another Islander was being harassed, they described the fans as terrifying. “ There's a moral imperative to do the right thing and to do what's right. But they can't control them,” says Peele. Fred Johnson, a talent manager at Select Management Group, the agency that represents Love Island USA Season 7 fan favorite Jeremiah Brown, told The Ankler, “The audience that takes a typical content creator years to build pretty much arrives overnight” for an Islander.

There is a lot of power in being a fan favorite, but for Black women Islanders, it exacts a particular toll. Zari Taylor, faculty fellow at New York University and co-author of From Screen to Store: Exploring the Reality TV to Influencer Pipeline on Love Island, spoke to TIME about the double standard they face. "On the one hand, while Black women [are] emerging victorious, especially dark-skinned women, they have to go through something” in order to achieve that fan-favorite status. Taylor describes the process as a trial by fire, in which the Islanders have to walk through the hot coals of misogyny and sexism on the show itself. They have to take the male Islander back even after lies and betrayals during the Casa Amor segment of the show, when he is tempted by other women, and are often an object of pity from the audience.

It is impossible to fully curb racism and sexism online. But that doesn’t mean the franchise can’t take meaningful steps toward creating a safer workplace and post-show experience for Black women—one that might encourage them to invest in it rather than move away from it as quickly as contractually possible. When asked what changes could be made to improve the conditions for Black women on Love Island USA and those who watch it, Taylor had one clear starting point. “ Black women put a lot of effort into the show because we've had to fight for the representation that we have. Both franchises [Love Island and Love Island USA] have had a Black couple win or a Black woman win. [The producers of these shows] need to be more conscious of things like online misogyny influencing the people that come on, and misogynoir, misogyny in general, so that they can keep an eye out for it.” This includes in the casting process, when prospective Islanders are asked about their dating preferences.