Content Warning: Bullying, suicide, sexism, slut-shaming, sexual assault, rape
Adolescent girlhood is often depicted as glamorous, but the reality of bullying and sexual assault is dirty, ugly, and frequently misunderstood. When Netflix announced 13 Reasons Why, there was hope it might finally offer an honest portrayal of these issues. Having read the novel as a teenager, which deeply resonated with personal experiences of bullying and suicidal thoughts, the expectation was for a raw and authentic series. Disappointingly, 13 Reasons Why, while sparking crucial conversations, ultimately falls short, particularly in its portrayal of the central character, Clay Jensen, and his dominating perspective.
While criticisms often focus on whether bullying directly causes suicide or deem Hannah Baker’s actions selfish, these points miss the more fundamental flaw. Bullying is indeed a significant factor in suicide, and Hannah’s tapes, while fictional devices, serve to unveil her world. The real issue lies in how the writers construct this world and its characters, which ultimately fails to serve teenage girls and impedes meaningful dialogues about their mental well-being. The series stumbles by presenting Hannah as unrealistically flawless, then filtering her tragedy through the lens of Clay Jensen, a character whose perspective reinforces the very issues the show purports to critique.
Hannah is depicted as possessing an almost unattainable high school perfection. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and seemingly confident – embodying popular fashion, engaging in witty banter with the school’s attractive athletes, and invited to every social event. She resembles a more sophisticated version of the stereotypical ‘nerds’ from teen movies, whose supposed low social standing is laughably attributed to minor aesthetic choices rather than genuine social challenges.
It’s not to say conventionally attractive girls are immune to bullying, especially sexual harassment. However, 13 Reasons Why continuously employs the language of the outcast, the loner, the ‘weirdo’ to describe Hannah. For viewers who genuinely experienced social alienation in school, navigating adolescence with true awkwardness and difference, Hannah’s effortless navigation of social situations feels jarring. It perpetuates the harmful idea that even the most ‘unconventional’ girl screenwriters dare to depict is still impossibly out of reach for genuinely marginalized girls. This misrepresentation becomes even more problematic when viewed through Clay Jensen’s eyes.
The narrative further complicates matters by subtly condemning conventional femininity. Cheerleaders, particularly Jessica and Sheri, who are Black women and thus already subjected to hypersexualization and limited agency, are consistently contrasted with Hannah’s supposed innocence and purity. This contrast is highlighted when Clay, through whose perspective we experience much of the story, takes Sheri for hot chocolate and is met with Sky’s disdainful remark, “A cheerleader? I thought you were better than that.” Hannah herself expresses similar disdain when reminding Jessica, “and then you became a cheerleader,” as if it were a betrayal of some inherent value. This implicit judgment, filtered through Clay’s gaze and the narrative’s subtle cues, reinforces a problematic hierarchy of female worth within the high school social landscape.
The show superficially addresses victim-blaming, yet repeatedly emphasizes Hannah’s youthful innocence as the reason her experiences are so tragic. Our outrage at the upskirt photo and sex rumors spread by Justin Foley is fueled by Hannah’s nostalgic description of it actually being her first kiss. The photo of her kissing Courtney is upsetting because it was merely a dare at an innocent sleepover. The show exploits Hannah’s perceived purity to amplify the shock value of the events, implying that her experiences are more tragic because of her innocence rather than focusing on the inherent wrongness of the actions themselves, regardless of the victim’s “purity”.
The “Best Ass” list targeting Hannah is unsettling precisely because the narrative emphasizes that she was untouched, highlighting her ‘purity.’ The devastating scene of Bryce’s assault shatters this ‘pure image’, underscoring the message: Hannah did nothing ‘wrong’. But what if she had? Would the audience’s sympathy remain if Hannah, like many real girls facing sexual bullying or assault, had been sexually active, bisexual, or experimented with substances? What if she was a cheerleader who partied?
This question is partially answered with Jessica’s rape by the same perpetrator. In stark contrast to Hannah, who posthumously controls her narrative, Jessica, the cheerleader who was previously shown as sexually assertive and also vulnerable while drunk or high, is unaware of her own assault and spirals into trauma she can’t even articulate. Hannah’s decision to not prevent Jessica’s rape or even inform her, instead using it as collateral damage in her own story, is arguably one of the most morally questionable actions in the show. However, it’s never framed as such, further diminishing Jessica’s agency and reinforcing the show’s underlying preference for ‘pure’ victims. This disdain permeates the series; while condemning slut-shaming against Hannah, Clay is shown ogling the girl on the “Best Lips” list, highlighting a disturbing double standard.
This subtle misogyny is almost inevitable given that the show’s narrative is essentially the male gaze made literal through Clay Jensen. Clay, presented as nerdy and socially awkward, deems Hannah beautiful and unattainable, assuming she’d never be interested in a “Nice Guy” like him. This perspective often leads to judgmental views of her sexual choices. Hannah’s death gives Clay’s perspective unparalleled control over how we perceive her. Even flashbacks of Hannah alive are filtered through Clay’s memories. His infatuation and his contrasting of Hannah against other girls are evident in a scene where Clay talks about Hannah with Tyler, another ‘nerdy’ character who also claims to be ‘in love’ with her. Tyler reinforces the cliché, lamenting that “girls like that don’t go for guys like us,” and describes how “other girls pose when you put the camera on them… Hannah was just there,” further solidifying Clay’s idealized, passive image of Hannah.
While the show attempts to address overt jock sexism, it falters with these more insidious forms – the ways less overtly aggressive boys still consume and control girls’ narratives. Ultimately, 13 Reasons Why becomes about consuming girls: their bodies, beauty, stories, and tragedies. Clay and Tyler’s quiet entitlement to observe and fantasize about Hannah’s body is evident. Clay’s ownership of Hannah and her story is further emphasized by his disregard for her wishes, listening to the tapes at his own pace and enacting ‘revenge’ primarily on men who showed interest in Hannah. Zach, whose mistake was comparatively minor but who dared to date Hannah, becomes a primary target of Clay’s aggression. Clay assumes control of her narrative, his reactions overshadowing her own story, his obsession with her idealized image eclipsing any genuine sense of her personality.
Hannah’s character is ultimately prevented from developing a convincing identity independent of Clay’s perspective. Just as the men who reduced her to “Best Ass In Class” objectified her, Clay and Tyler’s romanticized, manic-pixie-dream-girl image of her is equally limiting. Clay reacts angrily when Hannah deviates from this trope by showing interest in a jock, even slut-shaming her, revealing his desire to keep her within the narrow confines of his idealization. This possessiveness, romanticization, and entitlement felt by certain boys towards unconventional, vulnerable girls is a painful reality for many who seek solace in quiet, seemingly kind boys, only to find that kindness conditional and easily withdrawn when they assert agency. In 13 Reasons Why, this translates to Hannah’s character being perpetually defined by Clay’s gaze. In real life, it forces vulnerable girls to shrink themselves to fit within the impossibly small spaces where men will still accept them.
Despite these significant flaws, 13 Reasons Why does achieve some positive outcomes. It rightly emphasizes the lasting trauma of slut-shaming and objectification and connects these issues to sexual assault, a crucial and rarely depicted link. Even with its problematic bullying dynamics and missed opportunities for mental health discussions, the show effectively portrays how a series of seemingly minor actions can devastate a person’s world. It captures the frustrating experience of trying to articulate the cumulative impact of seemingly insignificant incidents, something many teenagers struggle with. 13 Reasons Why does begin to unravel the complex social dynamics of teenage life and demonstrate the devastating impact of these accumulated experiences.
The diverse cast, organically representing various ethnicities, sexualities, and family backgrounds, is a commendable aspect, mostly avoiding harmful stereotypes. However, this diversity only serves to highlight the blandness of the central narrative, particularly Clay’s story and his interactions with his uninteresting nuclear family. The show hints at richer, underrepresented stories – Jessica’s experience of rape and its public revelation, Justin’s upbringing amidst his mother’s abuse, Courtney’s fear of homophobia – but frustratingly sidelines these in favor of Clay’s tedious journey. These glimpses of diverse realities only scratch the surface, leaving the audience wanting more depth and feeling ultimately unsatisfied.
Ultimately, 13 Reasons Why seems designed to be as palatable and easily digestible as possible, aimed at viewers unfamiliar with the complex issues it addresses. This approach results in Hannah Baker becoming a constructed character, prioritized for relatability over authenticity.
The overwhelming feeling after watching 13 Reasons Why is sadness. Teenage girls’ inner worlds are rarely taken seriously, and this show was presented as a chance to explore these worlds in all their messy complexity. It was an opportunity to give voice to genuinely marginalized girls, to delve into the complexities of female friendships and sexuality, and to dismantle high school stereotypes. It could have presented teenage girls as dynamic, multifaceted, and unapologetically real. Instead, in its attempt to broaden its appeal, 13 Reasons Why unfortunately falls prey to the very misogyny it intends to critique. It becomes, regrettably, the story of a dead girl as told through the eyes of a dull boy, whose infatuation reduces her to a mere blank slate.
