CN: Bullying, suicide, sexism, slut-shaming, sexual assault, rape
Teenage girlhood, bullying, and sexual assault are complex and often misrepresented topics. Anticipating Netflix’s 13 Reasons Why, there was hope for a portrayal that resonated with authenticity. Having read the novel as a teenager, its themes of isolation and suicidal thoughts deeply connected. While personal experience diverged from Hannah’s tragic end, the emotional scars remained. The aspiration was for 13 Reasons Why to be a crucial series for young women, offering an honest and raw reflection of their experiences, particularly for those feeling socially marginalized. Disappointingly, the adaptation fell short.
Much of the criticism surrounding 13 Reasons Why centers on the simplistic notion that bullying solely causes suicide, or dismisses Hannah’s actions as selfish. While mental health dialogue could have been more prominent, it’s crucial to acknowledge bullying as a significant direct factor in suicide. While Hannah’s choices might be debated as plot devices—the suicide and tapes serving to explore her world—the core issue lies in the show’s world-building and character development. It is in these aspects that 13 Reasons Why ultimately fails teenage girls, missing a vital opportunity for meaningful conversations about their mental well-being.
Hannah Baker is presented as embodying high school perfection. She is depicted as beautiful, intelligent, and self-assured—possessing the right style, engaging in flirtatious banter with the popular athlete, and included in social gatherings. She resembles a more refined version of the stereotypical ‘nerd’ from films like John Tucker Must Die or Mean Girls, whose supposed low social standing is attributed to superficial traits like glasses or minimal makeup on otherwise conventionally attractive faces.
“For someone who, like many autistic girls, was genuinely ‘weird’ in school and struggled with adolescent social norms, Hannah’s effortless navigation is jarring.”
It’s not to say that conventionally attractive girls are immune to bullying, especially sexual harassment. However, 13 Reasons Why frequently employs the language of the outcast, the loner, the ‘weirdo’—the girl who doesn’t fit in. For someone who, like many autistic girls, was genuinely ‘weird’ in school and struggled with adolescent social norms, Hannah’s effortless navigation is jarring. It reinforces the disheartening reality that even the most ‘unconventional’ girl deemed acceptable for mainstream media portrayal remains vastly out of reach for genuinely marginalized girls.
13 Reasons Why also perpetuates a subtle yet persistent condemnation of conventionally accepted femininity. Throughout the narrative, Hannah is consistently distanced from cheerleaders, who are depicted with misogynistic undertones. “A cheerleader? I thought you were better than that,” Sky remarks condescendingly when Clay invites Sheri for a hot chocolate. Hannah’s disdain is palpable when she reminds Jessica, “and then you became a cheerleader,” as if it were a betrayal of her character. Furthermore, Jessica and Sheri, the primary cheerleaders, are Black women. Given the pre-existing hypersexualization and limited agency afforded to Black women’s bodies, this contrast with Hannah’s pale, innocent ‘purity’ becomes particularly unsettling.
The show superficially addresses victim-blaming, but this is overshadowed by the recurring message that Hannah’s supposed innocence is what makes the events that befall her so egregious. The audience is meant to be outraged by the upskirt photo and subsequent rumors spread by Justin Foley because Hannah’s sweet voice nostalgically recounts it as her first kiss. The photo of her kissing Courtney is framed as shocking because it stemmed from an innocent sleepover dare between girls in pajamas, portrayed as childlike in their cotton bras and giggling.
While numerous girls’ names appear on the list, it’s the ‘Best Ass’ designation directed at Hannah that is presented as particularly disturbing, underscored by the implication that she remains untouched. This ‘innocence’ is crucial to the show’s message and intensifies the impact of Bryce’s assault, highlighting that Hannah did nothing ‘wrong’. But the show begs the question: Would the audience’s sympathy be as profound if Hannah, like many real girls who experience sexual bullying or assault, had engaged in sexual exploration, identified as bisexual, or had multiple sexual partners? What if she had been a cheerleader, experimented with drugs or alcohol?
This question is implicitly addressed when both Jessica and Hannah are raped by the same perpetrator. In stark contrast to Hannah, who posthumously controls her narrative, Jessica, the cheerleader (previously shown as sexually active, even eager for intimacy, as well as intoxicated), is unaware of her own rape and spirals into turmoil, grappling with an unidentifiable trauma. Hannah’s choice not to intervene or even inform Jessica about the impending rape, instead opting to publicly reveal it as collateral damage within her own story, is arguably one of the most reprehensible actions in the series. Yet, it remains unacknowledged as such, further reinforcing Jessica’s expendability and lack of agency within the narrative. This disdain for girls perceived as less ‘pure’ permeates the show. While condemning slut-shaming directed at Hannah, Clay openly objectifies the girl labeled ‘Best Lips’ in the library, observing her applying lip gloss in a mirror—a gesture undoubtedly meant to contrast her with Hannah’s ‘natural wholesomeness’ in Clay’s eyes.
The pervasive misogyny might be an inevitable consequence, given that the show’s narrative structure embodies the male gaze made literal through Clay Jensen. Clay, the protagonist, is portrayed as somewhat nerdy and socially awkward. He perceives Hannah as beautiful and unattainable, assuming she would never consider dating him despite his self-proclaimed ‘Nice Guy’ persona. This leads to him exhibiting judgmental and resentful attitudes toward her sexual choices—a classic manifestation of latent misogyny. Hannah’s death amplifies Clay’s gaze, granting him unprecedented control over the audience’s perception of her. Even flashbacks depicting Hannah when she was alive are filtered through Clay’s memory. The idealized, fuzzy lens of his infatuation and his tendency to define her in opposition to other girls is succinctly captured in a cliché scene where Clay discusses Hannah with Tyler, another self-proclaimed admirer. Echoing the tired trope, Tyler confirms their shared sentiment with the words, “girls like that don’t go for guys like us.” He then contrasts Hannah with “other girls [who] pose when you put the camera on them… Hannah was just there.”
While 13 Reasons Why effectively portrays the harm of casual, jock-driven sexism, it falters in addressing more subtle and insidious forms—the ways in which seemingly less overtly aggressive boys still consume and possess girls. Ultimately, the series becomes about the consumption of girls: their bodies, their beauty, their narratives, and their tragedies. Tyler and Clay’s quiet entitlement to observe and fantasize about Hannah’s body is palpable. Clay’s sense of ownership over Hannah and her story is evident in his leisurely approach to listening to the tapes and his repeated disregard for her explicit wishes. His ‘revenge’ is primarily directed at other men who expressed interest in Hannah, rather than those who committed the most egregious acts. Zach, whose mistake is arguably the least consequential but who dared to ask Hannah out, bears the brunt of Clay’s aggression. Clay assumes control of her narrative, his reactions to her flashbacks dominate screen time and overshadow her own voice, and his obsession with her beauty and innocence supplants any sense of genuine personality in the glimpses of her presented through his memory.
“Hannah’s character is prevented from ever developing a convincing identity outside of Clay’s perspective.”
While other boys might have objectified her as a slut, the ethereal, manic-pixie-dream-girl image evoked by Tyler and Clay’s memories represents the other side of the same sexist coin. Clay reacts intensely when Hannah deviates from the charming, ‘not-like-other-girls’ trope he has constructed for her by expressing interest in an athlete, resorting to slut-shaming. He resists her existing in three dimensions, just as much as the boys who reduce her to ‘Best Ass In Class’. This sense of entitlement, romanticization, and possessiveness that certain boys project onto socially marginalized, mentally vulnerable, or otherwise unconventional girls will resonate deeply with many young women who sought solace and friendship with seemingly kind, quiet boys, only to have that connection cruelly withdrawn when they displayed agency or complexity. In 13 Reasons Why, this translates to Hannah’s character being literally prevented from developing a convincing identity outside of Clay’s perspective. In real life, it compels vulnerable girls to diminish themselves, fitting into the impossibly narrow confines where men will still accept them.
However, 13 Reasons Why does achieve some positive outcomes. It underscores the lasting trauma and severity of slut-shaming and objectification, and directly links these actions to sexual assault, which is a significant and rarely depicted connection. Despite the problematic dynamics of the bullying and the missed opportunity for mental health discussions, the depiction of a world unraveling due to a series of seemingly minor actions is compelling. Many can relate to the struggle of articulating the cumulative impact of seemingly isolated incidents, realizing that each event in isolation seems insignificant, yet lacking the ability to convey the larger, devastating narrative. 13 Reasons Why partially untangles the intricate social dynamics of teenagers, illustrating the profound impact of cumulative small incidents.
The diverse cast, encompassing various ethnicities, sexual orientations, and family backgrounds, is presented organically and largely avoids harmful stereotypes. However, this diversity primarily serves to highlight the blandness of the central characters’ narrative. Glimpses of potentially rich, underrepresented backstories are frustratingly sidelined in favor of following the monotonous Clay through yet another unremarkable breakfast with his equally uninteresting nuclear family. A more compelling series could have explored Jessica’s narrative surrounding her own rape and its devastating public revelation. Or Justin’s impoverished upbringing, witnessing his mother’s abuse, and how it influenced his dependence on the wealthy, abusive Bryce. Or how deeply ingrained high school homophobia led Courtney to prioritize social acceptance over friendship and witness her friend’s harassment, her fear compounded by the homophobia she experienced growing up with gay fathers—a complexity lost on the profoundly basic Clay. These peripheral narratives hinted at diverse realism, but remained underdeveloped and ultimately unsatisfying.
“It devolves into the story of a dead girl as told through the eyes of a bland boy.”
13 Reasons Why was evidently crafted to make its themes as accessible and palatable as possible. It seems designed for an audience unfamiliar with the issues it addresses, resulting in a failure to represent a complex reality. This approach yields Hannah Baker: a constructed character, prioritized for broad appeal over depth and authenticity.
The prevailing sentiment after watching 13 Reasons Why is one of disappointment. Teenage girls’ inner lives are rarely taken seriously, and this series was presented as a unique opportunity to explore these worlds in their messy complexity. It could have given voice to genuinely ‘weird’ or ‘unattractive’ girls, explored the intricate dynamics of female friendships and sexuality, and fleshed out shallow high school stereotypes. There was potential to portray teenage girls as dynamic, vibrant, multifaceted, and unapologetically real. Instead, by aiming for mass appeal, 13 Reasons Why ironically succumbs to the very misogyny it attempts to critique. It devolves into the story of a dead girl as told through the eyes of a bland boy, whose infatuation reduces her to a pretty, blank canvas.
All images courtesy of Netflix
