MTV, Effective Birth Control?

The Article: So MTV reduces teen pregnancy. Why are we surprised? by Kat Keene Hogue in The Guardian.

The Text: In our polarized age, reality television may be the only thing all of America agrees on: it’s disgusting, fake, bottom-dwelling, voyeuristic trash that rots our minds and brainwashes our kids.

But, despite the hypocrisy, most of America tunes in. For a tenth of the cost of a network drama, reality TV’s repetitive formulas serve horror, humor, and overwrought emotion to tens of millions.

Well, exciting news: we can all feel a little less remorseful about our guilty pleasure. It turns out reality TV can accelerate cultural progress – not just cultural decay.

A new study from the National Bureau of Economic Research concludes that MTV’s controversial hit series 16 and Pregnant, Teen Mom, and Teen Mom 2 are responsible for a 5.7% drop in the teen birth rate in the 18 months following their debut. This amounts to a full third of the overall decline in teenage births in this period.

Teen birth rates have been falling in the US since 1991, but the decline accelerated dramatically around the time 16 & Pregnant premiered in 2009. The researchers took a novel approach, analyzing Nielsen ratings, Google search data, and Twitter trends. They found spikes in internet searches for how to get birth control each time a new hour-long episode introduced a new pregnant teen, with more searches taking place in the geographic areas where more teens were watching. The only factor they estimate contributed more to the decline in teenage births in the study period was the Great Recession, contributing half.

That 5.7% may not sound earth-shattering, but it means thousands of fewer teen births per year. By any public policy measure, that’s a result – thanks to reality TV.

Having worked on 16 and Pregnant and the various spin-offs as a producer and camera operator, I am not at all surprised. My adventures in teenage child-rearing started in the summer 2009. I had just arrived in New York City, and I was armed with the delusional optimism required of a 21-year-old who relocates to the most expensive city in the world to make documentary films. I caught a lucky break.

An executive producer asked,

Can you deal with blood? Lots of blood? You won’t faint or anything?

“Oh, I actually watched my little brother being born,” I said.

I neglected to elaborate that I was two years old and crying in the closet at the time. But I found myself on a plane to rural Tennessee 12 hours later. Texas, Alabama, Arizona. Florida, Pennsylvania, back to Tennessee – round and round in circles I went. And for much of the next few years, my life revolved around the narrative emergencies of MTV. “I know it’s midnight, but her water broke. Can you get on a plane?”

I racked up endless frequent flier miles, and I could fill a travel guide with my extended stay experiences in America’s teen pregnancy hubs. It was fun. I had a great rapport with the girls, and infants are adorable. One baby-daddy allegedly professed his love for me; another’s friend shot me in the leg with a bottle rocket. (Don’t be alarmed – he was “just trying to scare me”.)

I frequently meet self-qualified experts who claim that everything on television now is fake. (Adding, often, that they “don’t even own a TV”.) But the content I contributed in the early years of Teen Mom and 16 & Pregnant is some of the most honest and accurate material I’ve ever produced. It was also emotionally wrenching.

I took breaks from shooting to squeeze the hands of terrified teenage girls as they struggled to find the mental tenacity required to push out a human head. I spent nights at the foot of young couples’ beds waiting to film 3am feedings. I watched babies have babies, and then learn to be parents. And, ultimately, I watched care-free young love combust when faced with the realities of adult life.

I believed strongly that de-stigmatizing teen motherhood was essential to preventing it. I was proud to be capturing authentic stories about the struggles of growing up; the pain of losing the innocence of youth too soon. Seeing my work premiere on television to millions of viewers was exhilarating. I felt it would have a positive impact.

And then came the vitriolic backlash. The tabloids discovered that covers of Teen Mom cast members delivered record sales, and suddenly their faces were ubiquitous. The small town girls I’d filmed were turned into reality superstars overnight. People rifled through their newly purchased gossip rags for ammunition, then proceeded to be outraged.

Conservatives claimed MTV was promoting underage sex; liberals claimed the shows had pro-life undertones. “Is MTV glamorizing teen pregnancy?” headlines read. People who had never seen the shows designated them “Trash TV”, and the right and left were once again united by their self-superiority. Kim Kardashian is perhaps best equipped to demonstrate the irony: “Girls, these are not people you should idolize!” blogged the reality queen bee.

The aggressiveness with which educated adults attacked the unlikely adolescent stars was unsettling. I found myself incredibly defensive of the shows and the underaged girls who’d made their private lives public by participating in them.

The fact is, while discussed ad nauseam in the national media, sex remains a conversational taboo in much of America. Even I, while working on 16 and Pregnant and having regular conversations about sex, birth control, and STDs with dozens of teenagers, still found broaching these subjects with my high school-aged sister difficult. Add to this that our sex ed programs are miserably inadequate, and it’s no surprise that the US still has one of the highest teen pregnancy rates in the developed world. It’s time we took responsibility to change our behavior and our educational systems instead of stigmatizing the young people they effect – whether they’re on TV or not.

As a television producer, it’s your job is to get your subject to trust you – to quickly and efficiently become their best friend, so that they’ll be vulnerable and open and honest on camera. When you achieve that trust, your footage sings, and it’s a great feeling. But it’s the worst feeling in the world when your subject’s trust in you results in them being viciously disparaged in the media, and you realize you can’t protect them.

You realize, in fact, that it was foolish of them to trust you in the first place. You weren’t the gifted idealist who would enlighten the masses. You were just one more cog in the entertainment machine.

When people find out I worked on 16 & Pregnant and Teen Mom, they often recoil. “God, I’m sorry, that must have been depressing,” they say. Once I successfully swallow my immediate reaction (“God, I’m sorry you were raised to be so rude”), I take a moment to defend the wide-eyed and giggly girls I spent much of my early 20s with, the teens whose dramatic coming-of-age narratives were aired out on national television. I say:

They’re just regular girls. They weren’t looking for fame, they aren’t idiots, they’re trying to be good parents, they’re up against a lot. This one is hilarious; that one is whip-smart. They are not the right target for your contempt.

Now, thanks to the National Bureau of Economic Research, I’ll be delighted to add, “And they’re also the reason why your daughter’s not pregnant.”