Women and True Crime Media

There’s nothing more enticing than a mystery. The prospect of a sudden and intentional death is terrifying, yet incredibly intriguing, stimulating the creation of media such as literature. From Agatha Christie’s murder mystery novels in the 1900s to Netflix’s “Making a Murderer,” stories of murders and restoring justice have captivated a wide audience. As true crime media continues to develop, our relationship with narratives of crime has grown and changed in tandem.

Crime tends to be male-dominated genre in fiction media. For example, “Law and Order” and “Criminal Minds,” two wildly popular television shows, were both created by men. However, crime podcasts are often created by women and focus on true crime, a genre that covers horrifying instances of violence. The podcast “My Favorite Murder” was created by Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark in 2016, and it has reached overwhelming popularity. The two are prolific, releasing at least an hour’s worth of footage per week. Instead of narrating the crime, they often give a summary of the crime from that episode and then informally discuss it, intimately connecting with the audience. Over the years, the podcast has developed a niche culture rife with inside jokes that may seem out-of-place, given the gory subject matter. As women, they know that they don’t need to make up stories about crime to be terrifying—the real world is scary enough.

The fans of “My Favorite Murder” are mostly women, which is hardly a coincidence. Kilgariff and Hardstark’s understanding that young women are afraid wherever they go is nuanced and received little attention prior to the rise of podcasts. In this sense, they are creating a new type of true crime: a casual by-women-for-women conversation, as opposed to Netflix’s formulaic documentaries. Though there’s a certain value to the camraderie that podcasts like “My Favorite Murder” breed, it can also beget a harmful culture of victimization.

Women grow up in a world that teaches them to be scared. True crime media serves as a constant reminder that murderers, rapists, and serial killers are everywhere, and young women are a frequent target. It’s no surprise that young women are the most voracious consumers of these podcasts when they open up conversations about this fear that is both highly irrational but intrinsic to survival, two contradicting points. Though the statistical chances of being a victim of a gruesome crime are low, an awareness of this violence keeps women vigilant.

And though the podcasts stimulate these important conversations, they also counterproductively perpetuate fear by releasing episodes every week. When they continue to discuss gruesome crimes with an audience while throwing in jokes about how to avoid being murdered, they ensure that listeners return next week. The narratives of “My Favorite Murder” serve as a constant reminder of how dangerous the world can be, and its message prolongs unnecessary fear.

“Serial,” however, is an exception to the rule; though it’s a true crime podcast, the creator Sarah Koenig is more focused on presenting objective information. The first season focuses on the murder of a teenage girl in Baltimore, a common scenario for a true crime story. Instead of discussing the victim like Kilgariff and Hardstark do, Koenig treats her podcast like an investigation by looking for evidence, witnesses, and experts to paint a more cohesive picture. Though this fascinating podcast touches on the gender dynamics present in true crime media, it’s journalistic and clinical. The compelling narrative Koenig weaves outweighs the charm of her personal anecdotes, and her fanbase focuses more on the drama of her investigations rather than Koenig herself. Her talent lies not in how she connects with her audience, but rather her skillful storytelling.

Koenig’s success demonstrates how we can dissect this universal female fear of crime without turning it into a commodity, but podcasts in general have done little to transform this fear from a hindrance into an asset. In this regard, poetry is a more powerful medium in effecting change. Olivia Gatwood, a poet who grew her fan base from YouTube videos of her slam poetry, recently released “Life of the Party,” a collection of poetry about women and true crime, in August 2019. Her poems pull from her own life, such as a field trip she took in first grade, but they also speak to this universal fear of crime. Her skillful language creates the same emotional connection as in “My Favorite Murder,” though her poems are less consumer-driven. More importantly, she proposes a future where this fear is obsolete and empowers her readers to create this world. Gatwood teaches us how to transform fear into a productive motivation. In a few of her poems, she references being sexually harassed by her boss while working at a bakery at age 15. She and other workers reported the case to the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission and eventually reached a settlement with the bakery. Though litigation is not always the practical alternative, Gatwood’s actions serve as an example of how to wield power in a world that often renders women powerless.

Poetry is less popular and lucrative than podcasts, but it conveys a powerful emotional message. Kilgariff and Hardstark make a huge profit from their podcast—they’ve recently released a book, and they also make a good deal of income through their streams. Gatwood’s poetry, on the other hand, is only accessible through YouTube, and her book is not well-known. Gatwood’s poetry doesn’t cater to the mass appeal, and her writing is more heartfelt and honest. Additionally, while podcasts are more casual and factual, poetry utilizes figurative language to invoke an emotional response, rarely relying on facts to give it appeal. Indeed, Gatwood’s poems that take quotes from newspapers regarding true crime in her area are far less effective than her ruminations on her childhood and how her body image is shaped by both her gender and her fear of men. But true crime narratives don’t need to rely on journalism to get their point across. The universal female fear is not driven by the gruesome details of each serial killer’s elaborate schemes, but rather by the mere presence of these stories and knowing that women can be killed anywhere compounds this fear.

The engrossing narratives of true crime examine gender roles through a variety of media. While podcasts have played an important role in opening up the conversation about how women interact with true crime, poetry seems to be a more productive medium for creating any sort of change. This exploration of the perpetual fear that women are taught to have raises difficult questions, and neither podcasts nor poems have fully answered them. To this end, women can only continue to weaponize their fear.