Is Love Blind? How Reality TV Helped Normalise Parental Estrangement
Words by: Em Bayley-Melendez
I haven’t spoken to my dad in 13 years. That’s not the kind of confession you expect to make in an article about Love is Blind but it’s the reason I couldn’t stop thinking about UK contestant Megan Jupp this season. When Megan opened up about her dad in the pods, it was oddly validating - an acknowledgment that estrangement exists and that it’s okay to talk about it. Love is Blind is not just reality TV designed for drama, it’s also a powerful tool for awareness, holding a mirror up to the diversity of family structures and the influence they have on our personal and romantic lives.
Growing up, estrangement felt shameful. As a child I would tell people I didn’t speak to my dad and be met with awkward stares or a pitying “I’m sorry”. I don’t blame them, estrangement challenges assumptions about what “family” should look like but the silence around it felt isolating. That’s why it matters when shows like Love is Blind make space for these conversations. In a genre known for spectacle, this coverage wasn’t gossip but representation around parental estrangement.
Stand Alone found that one in five families in the UK will experience estrangement with the length varying from months to decades. It’s not an uncommon experience even if there’s a lack of public acknowledgement. Online, however, more communities exist. On Reddit, for example, r/EstrangedAdultChild has over 50,000 members. These numbers and stories show how widespread estrangement is which makes the visibility on Love Is Blind even more significant. A study by the University of Cambridge (Centre for Family Research) found that nearly two-thirds of estranged people felt there was stigma around the topic, often because they believed their situation contradicted societal expectations of family. Media scholars Laurie Ouellette and James Hay note that reality TV frames contestants as “enterprising in the pursuit of their own empowerment and well-being.”A missing parent is a dramatic reveal in the romance rather than a real reflection of what estrangement does to someone’s life. Love is Blind including this narrative disrupts stigma especially when this isn’t always the norm.
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Unlike most reality TV, Love Is Blind is built for vulnerability. By removing the usual barriers, the pods push contestants to confront their feelings, encouraging an emotional intimacy that might take months to build otherwise. Even with that premise, the show isn’t immune to the usual clichés common in this genre. Love is Blind USA contestant Kelly Chase reflected on how producers “cut and condensed many of the true storylines to create a more dramatic narrative for the viewers” and how the editing process still shaped how stories were told.
That’s why Megan’s candid conversation stood out. While dating Kieran in the pods, she opened up about her dad, sharing the challenges her mum had faced in her own relationships. “My mum and him broke up when I was born,” she said. “I would see him once a week and then when I was about five or six I had zero contact with him whatsoever.” The worst part about estrangement is when it confronts you out of context - an unexpected call, Facebook message or a chance encounter and suddenly the repressed trauma resurfaces. Megan shared that at 17 she had encountered her dad during a pub shift, recounting her dad’s lack of acknowledgement.
“Seeing Megan normalise estrangement created an unspoken solidarity, a reminder that we are not alone.”
The parallels between Megan’s experiences and my own made me freeze, before frantically opening my notes app to capture the idea for this piece. My mum was driving me back to university for my second year when I was met with the equally uncomfortable reality of facing my dad after years of no contact. We pulled into a service station in Gloucester, the fancy one with a farm shop and sit-down restaurant, the kind where even the fish and chips comes with a lemon wedge. As we walked to order food, I noticed a tall man turn to face me.
‘Hello Emma,’ he said.
‘Hi Dad,’ I replied.
It was like a scene from a soap opera. Beyond the shock, what unsettled me was how little we had to say and how much had changed. Only through this chance meeting did I learn he, his wife and my half-brothers had moved house. The meeting left a bitter taste, my mum and I ate quickly before heading back onto the motorway.
Love Is Blind’s pods strip out much of the performative theatre of attraction. So when Megan spoke about her mum’s struggles, about growing up no contact with her dad and the influence this had on her - I saw myself in her story. Being estranged from my dad has been one of the hardest experiences of my life. What began as an argument on my 14th birthday slowly led to reduced communication, until the calls and visits stopped completely. My parents had divorced when I was born, so like Megan, I grew up measuring out a relationship in rationed hours. Visits once a month, awkward dinners, trying to cram a connection into a few weekends a year. We didn’t have the normal dad-daughter moments. I mourned that loss most at other people’s dinner tables, watching friends chat effortlessly with their dads while I sat shyly, unsure how to join in.
Unlike Megan’s story, mine remained private, confined to friends and family. I struggled with the lack of wider support. That’s why it felt so significant to watch Love Is Blind make space for something that resonated beyond dating drama. The pods allowed for honesty that offered viewers like me a sense of recognition. Seeing Megan normalise estrangement created an unspoken solidarity, a reminder that we are not alone. If reality TV can make space for estrangement, then our wider culture can learn to recognise and honour the diverse experiences it reflects. Love Is Blind’s appeal isn’t just spectacle, it lies in these glimpses of real social issues, giving a rare platform to conversations millions live with in silence.
