The long-running Bravo reality show “Summer House,” which chronicles a group of friends’ share house in the Hamptons, crescendoed into the first of a three-part reunion Tuesday night (the remaining episodes will air the coming consecutive Tuesdays). At the center of the episode: a salacious relationship among castmates Amanda Batula and West Wilson, a betrayal, rumors of infidelity and a friendship in ruin. Bravo fandom has christened the drama “Scamanda,” a portmanteau that unsubtly centers Batula.
Batula and Wilson confirmed online speculation in March that they were in a fledgling relationship or, as they characterized it in a joint Instagram statement, were exploring a “connection.” Both were attached to other “Summer House” cast members: Batula’s marriage to mainstay Kyle Cooke was dissolving and Wilson was in the throes of a yearslong on-again-off-again relationship with fan-favorite Ciara Miller.
The frenzy around “Scamanda” indicates something far greater than the influence and social currency of reality television.
“Scamanda” has become one of the most dominant cultural stories of the past few weeks. Incremental updates, including leaked audio from Tuesday night’s reunion, paparazzi-style photographs and fan-driven reports of the couple’s whereabouts have all but commanded internet discourse.
The frenzy around “Scamanda” indicates something far greater than the influence and social currency of reality television; rather it shows that entertainment has become the dominant framework through which Americans view culture. Here — in Batula’s and Wilson’s Instagram admission, single-camera confessionals, and Bravo producer and host Andy Cohen’s confrontation — is a shared national language, a rare semblance of monoculture and, indeed, a lens with which to understand present-day politics.
One question is, of course, why “Scamanda” so swiftly entered the zeitgeist and extended well past the typical reach of Bravo drama. The answer is a confluence of factors that amount to betrayal, not merely infidelity. For one, the show’s popularity hinges on viewers’ belief that the friendships, between both its women and men costars, are genuine.
Then there is Batula’s long-standing positioning as the moral party in her divorce. Arguably the most crucial, however, is the factor of race. Miller has led emotional and candid conversations about racism, anti-Blackness and the experience of Black women on camera many times since joining the cast in 2021. She divulged that she has received criticism for dating and being interested in white men, including Wilson. Bre DeShon, a political and cultural social media voice, posted a TikTok explaining that, “unfortunately [what Miller is experiencing] is a canon event that happens to every Black woman who operates in white spaces,” referring to Wilson’s poor treatment of Miller as a romantic partner.
“Scamanda” is primarily about the friendship between Batula and Miller, and in this case Batula has received the lion’s share of internet blowback, criticizing her for betraying Miller.
The internet has been extremely harsh and violent toward Batula for her treatment of both Miller and Cooke. Wilson, a white man, has predictably received but a fraction of the internet repercussions, representing a very specific archetype of a white man who uses his liberal voting record and therapy speak to qualify his poor and manipulative treatment of women.
There has been a long-held perception that reality is a woman’s television genre, a frivolity, like all women-centric activities and hobbies, that amounts to nothing but a waste of time and background noise. To compare reality television to, say, prestige television, like HBO’s “The Sopranos,” is to misunderstand and underestimate its influence.
President Donald Trump himself helped pioneer the reality star-politician crossover, embodying a deep understanding of the power of spectacle and exposure.
The mechanics behind the explosive reaction to “Scamanda” and its precursor Bravo’s “Scandoval,” come secondary to the national and political framework it exists within. Sitting Transportation Secretary Sean Duffy, a veteran player in MTV’s “The Real World” franchise, released a five-part so-called road trip series he filmed with his family, produced by Bunim/Murray Productions, the company behind “The Real World” series. Spencer Pratt, a self-engineered villain on MTV’s “The Hills,” is a serious mayoral candidate in Los Angeles. There is speculation, which Pratt has denied, that he is filming a reality show around his campaign. On the other side of the aisle, former “Summer House” castmate Luke Gulbranson is running for Congress as a Democrat in his home state of Minnesota. He was asked about the Wilson and Batula scandal on MS NOW’s Katy Tur Reports.
President Donald Trump himself helped pioneer the reality star-politician crossover, embodying a deep understanding of the power of spectacle and exposure. We have entered an era in which politicians are no longer gauged solely on their competency and moral character, or scrutinized on policy, but rather on their entertainment value and their ability to create a narrative. On YouTube, Duffy can manufacture authenticity as a family man, the guy next door, someone you might want to share a beer with, and effectively distance himself from, for example, a gas price crisis.
Indeed, Batula’s and Wilson’s handling of this betrayal feels uniquely Trumpian as well. Millions of viewers watched Tuesday night as they both downplayed the extent to which they were together and obfuscated the facts around “Scamanda.” Reality television, including the players in “Summer House,” primes viewers to tolerate contradiction and prioritize narrative satisfaction of truth.
But at least, I suppose, we’re doing it together. Perhaps, what has driven “Scamanda” toward cultural canonization is common ground. Much has been made, including by me, about the perils of our fractured and siloed media landscape. For once, for a few weeks, the collective conversation is not politically centered or globally devastating; it is just a little reality television drama.
Hannah Holland
Hannah Holland is a producer for MS NOW's "Velshi" and editor for the "Velshi Banned Book Club." She writes for MS NOW.