Words by Carolina Dionísio
Graphics by Emma Wirt
Edited by Charis Caraballo

From TV to the page, the toxic male character has definitely earned a spot on the podium of most popular love interests. He’s mysterious, he’s jealous, he wants you all to himself — but is he truly just handsome and cold, or is he simply a misogynist in disguise?

The response to Netflix’s “killer ending” of their hit show, “You,” stirred up some debate. With today's online manosphere fueling the narrative that violent behaviors are a sign of “love,” and lots of watchers excusing toxicity for looks, critics have come forward to speak up against the constant normalization of abuse in media.

“Shining a light on the central tangle — is Joe a white knight, or an abuser of women? — doesn’t disguise the fact that it remains a real issue that you have to ask the question in the first place,” wrote Rebecca Nicholson for The Guardian.

“You” tells the story of Joe Goldberg (Penn Badgley), a “romantic” psychopath who kills to protect the women he loves — only to end up murdering them too in a cage. Although the show is supposed to depict the abusive patterns followed by serial killers, that’s not the only message watchers are getting. By telling the story from the perspective of Joe Goldberg, exploring his history of toxic love and harsh memories of a dark childhood, the producers made the killer brush against the thin shell of the misunderstood savior persona. This led the public to not only sympathize with Joe and his acts, but root for him while finding excuses for his wrong doings.

When he killed Beck (Elizabeth Lail), it was because she was a cheater.

When he killed Love (Victoria Pedretti), it was because she was way too crazy.

When he killed Raegan (Anna Camp), it was because she was threatening his family’s safety — because yes, I believe Joe was the one to kill her, even if he used Maddie (also Anna Camp) to do it.

And the victim-blaming goes further than just his killings.

When he framed Nadia (Amy-Leigh Hickman) for her boyfriend’s murder, it was because she was annoyingly onto him.

When he imprisoned Marianne (Tati Gabrielle), it was because, since she didn’t want him back, it was too dangerous for him to let her go as she could expose his real self. It was never because he was, indeed, a psychopathic serial killer.

The result was that, by the final and fifth season, the vast majority of the public was hoping for Joe to kill Bronte/Louise (Madeline Brewer) and escape. Because somehow, throughout the whole show, it seemed as if it was easier to hate a flawed woman, than an abusive and disgusting man.

Despite said public hope, Joe Goldberg is arrested and sentenced for his crimes — though in jail, he receives letters from female fans claiming they “believe him” and confessing their undying love and desire. The show ends with the infamous line “Maybe the problem is… You,” as Joe looks directly into the camera.

As Penn Badley said himself during an interview for Netflix’s Tudum: “It was really important to me that Joe finally be seen as a sexual predator. I don’t say that lightly. We all know that’s what he is. But we tend to artfully dance around it or forget it because he can be so charming.”

Yet, we still want him to win?

Then yes, maybe the problem is us: the public. Because while Joe Goldberg is a fictional character created by Caroline Kepnes, the author of the original book series that inspired the Netflix show, this — the victim-blaming, the fan-mail sent to jail, the love confessions towards criminals, the blind-eye before all the small details that should be enough to keep us away — is a very serious issue that spills from fiction to real life.

From Ted Bundy being “mortifyingly charming” in the 70’s, to Wade Wilson trending in 2024 for his smile and cool tattoos. Times change, yet, we don’t, as we keep excusing, or even forgetting, actions because of looks.

But maybe I shouldn’t go that far yet, so let’s go back a couple steps and refocus on media and fiction — this time, books.

Because thanks to Booktok, Dark Romance has slowly risen from the depths of bookshelves and fanfiction websites to complete stardom. Every month, there’s a new man worthy enough to receive the title of Book Boyfriend — but only when he’s deemed “hot” inside a specific set of guidelines.

The white but tan, dark-haired, tall, strong, tattooed, mysterious, and clearly misunderstood man seems to be the rule these days. He, also called “Shadow Daddy” when it comes to particular Fantasy settings — like Rhysand (ACOTAR) or Xaden (Fourth Wing) — has become the typical look of the male love interest to the quiet, broken girl. Readers are fantasizing alone in their bedrooms, making spicy edits, or even begging their partners to recreate a scene or two. The frenzy grows every time a new book is added to the series, despite the male character’s wrong doings, and even if said wrong doings are brutal gender-based crimes.

For instance, take Zade Meadows: the king of Dark Romance male love interests. With his dark hair, tanned skin, sketchy tattoo, and that tortured look on his eyes, he perfectly fits the description. Therefore, the title of Book Boyfriend has sat nicely beside his name ever since Haunting Adeline gained a significant amount of popularity and rose to the Best Sellers list. He’s mysterious, he’s grumpy, and he isn’t scared to get his hands dirty to protect his girl from harm — except when he’s the one harming her.

I find it funny how Booktok goes crazy over Zade when he’s the biggest hypocrite ever. Did we all forget how this man was, allegedly, protecting women and children from sex trafficking rings while actively stalking and assaulting Adeline (the main character)? Zade drowns in his savior complex, a background that almost serves as a morality-plot-armour against his own crimes, but at the same time, he’s awful. He’s not kind, he’s not tender, which leaves little room for the readers to find him, at least, a tiny bit likable (if it wasn’t, of course, for his aforementioned plot armour).

The pattern is the same: Joe and Zade versus the tough background that shaped the twisted men they are today, but loving nonetheless. Except, they’re not truly loving, they just piggyback off the rhetoric shoved down women’s throats since we were in kindergarten and the boy behind us in class pulled our hair: “If he’s mean to you, it’s only because he likes you.”

Still, the problem with Dark Romance is not just Zade, but rather the door his type of character has opened on the genre.

Once upon a time, Dark Romance was deemed “dark” because it involved morally gray characters and their trauma in a mature setting, or maybe explored themes not appropriate enough for teenagers to read about, such as Mafia romances that often include hard-core violence — never toward the woman, rather the men who threatened her.

But ever since the booktok-fication and liberation of Dark Romances, there seems to be no limit or moral compass. From stalking and kidnapping, to borderline assault and abuse, where do we stop?

Because, today, we read about male characters having intercourse with the empty eye-socket of the woman he held hostage for 10 years. Today, we read graphic descriptions of a girl being sex-trafficked for months, so her stalker can use her rescue as a redemption arc. Today, more than ever, abuse is being sold to us and we’re supposed to like it, maybe even fantasize about it, because, somehow, it’s all about women’s sexual empowerment.

Yes, women can have weird kinks. Yes, women can have dark dreams and secret fantasies. Yes, we should stop shaming women for exploring their sexuality. But should we empower women by writing extremely disturbing, triggering, and oftentimes insensitive, books for younger audiences? Because all of this is sold under the Young Adult category, where the target is impressionable teens between 13 and 18 years old, who are going to assume what they’re reading is “correct.” Because all of this is advertised as romance, yet we open the book, and there’s a 2-page-long content warning list followed by a quote about mental health, which only propels the narrative that love is supposed to be crazy, toxic, and even deadly.

It’s not empowering for books with abusive male main characters to go viral and sky-rocket into fame, but it is exhausting for the women who struggle with this in real life to see readers online romanticizing about what they go through as if it’s a tale of forbidden romance and not a true-crime documentary.

When graphic and insensitive books are sold with the tag “women’s forbidden sex fantasies,” men are almost naturally bound to convince themselves that women secretly like being stalked, gagged, kidnapped, beaten or worse. So, let’s stop using the sexual empowerment card when the books are clearly written under the insidious lens of the male gaze, almost as if indoctrinating women that they can only enjoy it if it’s “violent and rough,” when, in reality, no woman is truly fantasizing about all of this just because the male main character is handsome, tall, age appropriate, and white.

Because if we switch the race, is he still hot enough to excuse his crimes? If Joe Goldberg, Zade Meadows, and all the other problematic characters we love to objectify, were actually slightly older and hispanic, would it still be a spicy romance? If Ted Bundy or Wade Wilson were afro-american, would the narrative still be ‘free him, he’s too pretty for jail’?

Because again, he’s only deemed “hot” inside a specific set of guidelines. In Philosophy, this has a name: Aestheticism.

The artistic movement grew in Europe by the end of the 19th century, though its philosophical foundations were laid in the 18th century by Immanuel Kant. Kant theorized over the autonomy of aesthetic standards and set them apart from political purposes or utility.

So, in its essence, Aestheticism follows the doctrine that beauty is the ultimate goal, as it holds the highest value — even higher than morality or truth.

If aestheticists prioritize the pursuit of beauty and pleasure, even if it means disregarding social norms or moral principles, then are we all aestheticists? By romanticizing not just these characters, but also real-life murderers as we portray them more as public figures than actual criminals, are we not disregarding moral principles? Are we not disregarding the lost lives, the broken families, the ever-lasting trauma? Are we not ignoring the constantly increasing rates of gender-based violence for the sake of a pretty face that fits the description in our book?

Are we all so easily manipulated by the racist beauty standards of a misogynistic society, that the moment we see a conventionally attractive white male, we lose all sense of self? Because none of these men, fictional or real, love women as much as we love them. If anything, they hate us to death. Literally. So can we truly be so dense that we step over not only society’s established norms, but our own pride, self-respect and self-preservation instinct, to get the approval of a man who wouldn’t hesitate to kill us?

And for how long will they keep spoon-feeding us the idea that women only love dangerous men and degrading sex? For how long will women be forced to be wild and reckless under the guise of sexual empowerment, when sometimes, all we want to be is boring? For how long will women give-in to the constant abuse because, if Booktok loves to recreate it, then it must be good? For how long will they profit out of real-life suffering and stories?

For how long will we keep ignoring the blunt romanticization of violence and abuse toward women for the sake of a good show or a good book? And for how long will we enjoy it? It’s been too long already.