In Real Housewives’ late-stage-capitalist era of fandom, two types of women generally get thrown into the gauntlet for the viewing audience to take apart and judge. There’s the minor celeb, icon, or influencer/power broker who recognizes the reach of the platform and thinks that they can leverage the show for a good check, advance their business interests, and dictate what part of their lives the cameras, producers, rest of the cast, and the fans start to poke around in. These women are all sorely disappointed when they read the fine print of their contracts and discover, to their horror, that whatever handshake agreement they made with Andy Cohen over boundaries disappeared the second they did “shotskis†with him on Watch What Happens Live! Well-known victims include RHONY reboot’s Jenna Lyons, RHOA’s one-season wonder Kim Fields (who got the chair pulled out from under her by Kenya and never looked back), and Denise Richards (who was recently way too drunk to call out the Fox Force Five for their ridiculous antics against her final season all because they were mad over her check).
The second — and more common — newcomer category is a student of the craft. They watch the shows just like us, have folders of memes of their favorite Housewives, and have studied their favorite conflicts. Perhaps they have auditioned several times or relocated to integrate themselves more organically into the cast, but coming on Housewives is not just a work opportunity for them; it’s also a chance for them to spend time with people with whom they have already built parasocial bonds during their Pinot Grigio watch parties. They quote NeNe Leakes’s “not a white refrigerator, honey†in their general parlance and have been workshopping their Housewives tagline for years, fantasizing about the day they get called up to the big leagues and get to play out their fantasy scenarios in person. Prime examples are Atlanta’s Drew Sidora, Salt Lake City’s Heather Gay, and the much-discussed Rachel Leviss of Vanderpump Rules fame — and when it comes to Potomac, Nneka finds herself in this bucket.
That’s right, the Eileen Davidson accords are up.
We are seven episodes into the season, and so far, we know three things about Nneka: (1) she likes Champagne, (2) she and Iyke are trying to have a baby, (3) she has beef with Wendy based on overblown issues that took place during casting. It’s a poor way to introduce her, but she is clearly a student of the reality TV game who is trying to come in with maximum impact and flair. The problem is, when you pick it apart, there isn’t much substance outside of the fact that Wendy has done an astonishingly poor job of fending off the transparent attack. Coming in hot by going after a cast member who is isolated by a large part of the cast is a strong strategic choice and a tactical way to navigate the power rankings, but how does it help establish your story line as a power couple of generational wealth and comfort? Where do you both live while this house renovation is happening? She says she’s in-house counsel for a fintech company — where are insights into that side of her life? Hopefully we get some of these answers in the back half of the season. Showcasing luxury isn’t drinking Champagne next to your fertility pills in the morning or stirring up drama in the Nigerian community of Maryland with dangerous accusations with significant cultural implications when taken out of context. Still, I am hoping we get to see more of her true personality outside of the uninteresting drama between her and Wendy that has led the first batch of episodes. I cannot stress further how this feud needs to be put out to pasture for her to thrive on this show.
Unfortunately, the women on this show seem to have a genetic predisposition to thriving onscreen. We finally make it to Ashley Darby’s highly anticipated chickenshit bingo, which, to my surprise, literally involves gambling over feathers and fecal matter in a hole in the wall. Now, I know it must smell crazy in there, so I am fully team La Dame on her areolas itching up a frenzy at all of the coops in disarray while chickens literally poop on the bingo cards — the specious hygiene of it alone is enough for me to break out in hives. That said, despite Ashley yet again picking the most heinous dollar-bin activities as part of her vacation plans, there’s a world in which women could have made a Simple Life go of it and committed to rolling their sleeves up and making their ineptitude at the tradition as hilarious as possible. In this universe, however, the women are fighting, crying, and sitting on the curb like drunk 25-year-olds leaving Bagatelle’s bottomless-brunch party.
Robyn is in the midst of a full-on spiral because Candiace stated the obvious in reaction to being confronted over her unwillingness to discuss her pending litigation with Emperor Palpatine; it was a bad move for her to speak beyond what was legally advisable in her husband’s lawsuit, and she has a poor understanding of what a Title IX compliance does and does not involve. She’s fully coming apart at the seams, insisting that Juan’s job is off-limits, claiming that “he doesn’t get involved in any of this†while making pointed jabs at how Chris talks nonstop about people. I’ve already made my opinions clear on how I won’t abide by Robyn centering Juan as a victim in the nature of these legal proceedings, so I won’t bother making myself redundant on how remarkably insensitive I find all of this. What I will say, however, is that Robyn needs to decide whether or not she wants to be on reality television. Robyn and Juan were clearly told by production that they needed to discuss their problems on-camera this season, which includes acknowledging their conflicts on television. If Juan can call Gizelle and have a “spirited†conversation with her on television and end the episode by yelling at Robyn about how much he does not care about what is going on for committing the cardinal sin of updating him about how she defended him, then he is certainly getting involved in the drama on television. Robyn needs to stop attempting to protect an image that Juan is not invested in protecting for himself.
Candiace, on her end, needs to decide what side of Karen’s fence she wants to ride, sit, or stand on. While Robyn may have overreacted to her initial remarks, she cannot decide if she wants to resolve the issue with her former friend or completely burn the house down, and her inner turmoil over that indecision is making her look absolutely incoherent. Robyn is sitting there crying because she feels overwhelmed about discussing the inner workings of her partnership that sound nonsensical in an environment that she doesn’t trust — a sensitive but normal thing — but then Candiace proceeds to cry because she feels that she’s being blamed for making Robin cry — a conceit that only happens on Housewives. You cannot be both Inspector Gadget and victim in the same scene; ask Sutton Stracke how well that is going for her in Beverly Hills. Robyn ends up sitting forlorn with her YSL cross-body bag touching the Austin curb until their Uber comes to pick them up, while Candiace manages to convince herself that her needling was actually for the greater good because it finally got Robyn to open up. It’s the highest form of delusion from the deepest part of space because in between dry heaves, Robyn has definitely made a silent personal pact to never be on speaking terms with Candiace and her cry-angles ever again — the next day, she switches cars with Nneka so that she and Candiace avoid speaking to each other.
All of these hysterics mean that Karen has to spend her 60th birthday — excuse me, triple-twenty — having a meeting of the minds with Gizelle on how the group can navigate the rest of the season with such deep divisions. The show functions at its best when the duo is bantering well and committed to delivering good television, and Ms. Bryant gives us her best onscreen outfit this season as she gifts Karen snacks from the hotel mini-bar. Gizelle is firm — she is not interested in mending fences whatsoever with Candiace and finds her behavior dangerous and appalling for her to engage with. If Gizelle had latched on to Candiace’s chickenshit antics, I might have actually given her some latitude to work with; it was a truly bizarre and erratic display that only escalated a sensitive situation, and Gizelle can take the position of advocating for her friend. Instead, however, she chooses to retread the path of feeling targeted by colorism accusations, a position that is so unbelievably flimsy that I am genuinely surprised that she chose to dip back into that well. It’s simple: Potomac is a show whose four OGs are light-skinned Black women; colorism has been baked into the framework of the show since its inception because of its hierarchical nature. Gizelle being unwilling to receive that and viewing it as an interpersonal conflict is just unbecoming of an HBCU alum, but I refuse to humor the topic any further. Candiace being a Twitter timeline terror doesn’t make this any less of a reality, nor do Gizelle’s beautiful brown-skinned children.
This godforsaken trip is coming to a close about as appropriately as it should, with the women guzzling hot red wine while kayaking up and down a river. It’s an aimless, directionless, isolated activity, and far from the glam befitting the level of celebration appropriate for Karen Huger’s triple-twenty. Instead, we get … a carousel of chopped and screwed confessionals that are bundled together to say some version of “happy birthday to the grand dame†with gritted teeth. Let’s get out of Austin and into the back half of the season immediately, please.
Cherry Blossoms
• Karen is buying her family estate and turning it into a resort, which seems like a lovely project. It also seems like a subtle pitch for a spinoff, and I don’t know if we need all of that, but I am down for a three-episode special dedicated to her project that I can binge on Peacock on a slow day.
• Mia is trying harder than the Marines to clock into work. When Robyn was crying on that curb, she followed her outside with those cameras to try to console her, then went back in to grab Gizelle and spoke to her while they lurked until Robyn was ready to talk. The name of the game is content, baby!
• Family friend Lebe is the girl of the hour! She went from texting Wendy about BBL appointments, buying her book, attending her baby shower, and calling her “twinny†(per Wendy’s texts) to FaceTiming Nneka and giving her advice on her hair; it seems like the Osefos may have been right in clocking the family friend as an opportunist who liked to stay close to whoever could give them access to nice things. Personally, I also find it a bit off-putting to hear Nneka use the phrases “yaki†and “kinky†as negatives when discussing their hair, but that’s just me.