Boys Will Be Boys: How the Gender Dynamics of This Year's Love Island Reflect A Concerning Regression in Gender Equality
Issue 2
Boys Will Be Boys: How the Gender Dynamics of This Year's Love Island Reflect A Concerning Regression in Gender Equality
By: Issy Young
Love Island has become a staple in British culture, blending escapism, competition and sex appeal, and I don’t even have to tell you how well that sells. But beneath its chiselled exterior lies something more insidious. While the show has previously gestured towards progress, with iconic feminist moments from Maura Higgins and Amber Gill’s solo win, the latest series 12 has marked a troubling step backwards.
This year, Love Island didn’t just reflect the dire state of the current dating scene; it magnified its ugliest realities. In an era when gender inequality and violence against women are undeniably rising, the show’s platforming and protection of emotionally manipulative men, paired with the online vilification of its female contestants, exposes a deeper societal rot.
The Regression of Romance: When “Triangles” Become Traps
The so-called “love triangle” between Harrison (22), Lauren (26), and Toni (24) has been a major talking point, and in truth, the inspiration for this article.
Harrison, initially coupled up with Toni, recoupled with Lauren at Casa Amor. The pair slept together twice in the communal bedroom, only for him to beg Toni to take him back just one day later. Toni, unaware of the other two’s sexual encounters, accepted him. Lauren didn’t inform her, fairly reasoning, “It’s his responsibility to tell her.” But it’s telling that his sense of responsibility ended there, especially in the eyes of other Islanders.
When the truth came out, Toni expressed regret, admitting she felt embarrassed and “played.” Her emotions were dismissed. And critically, her consent, to share a bed with a man who had just slept with another woman, was never informed.
Soon after, Lauren was voted out while visibly distressed. Harrison “walked,” and ITV gave him a gentle hero edit: Coldplay soundtrack, soft lighting, and a romanticised farewell. It all felt rather convenient, coming just days after Women’s Aid issued a statement condemning the show for normalising coercive behaviour.
“Misogyny and sexism lay the foundation for the tolerance of abuse and violence – it reinforces a culture that excuses and trivialises violence against women and girls,” said Women’s Aid in July 2025, “More must be done to educate contestants on sexism and misogyny, and it is a great credit to viewers who take to social media, continuing to call out these behaviours as soon as they see them.”
They’re right. And the stats back them up. According to the Office for National Statistics, 1.4 million women in England and Wales experienced domestic abuse in the year ending March 2023. Meanwhile, the UK’s score in the European Institute for Gender Equality’s Index has declined since 2020, particularly in areas of safety and representation.
The Social Media Echo Chamber
What unfolded onscreen spilled viciously online. Lauren was mocked as “needy,” “slutty,” and “obsessed” for asking Harrison to leave with her after their nights together on national TV. I don’t know about you, but I’d consider that fairly reasonable.
Harrison, meanwhile, walked away with 100,000 new Instagram followers and the affectionate nickname: “The Young Bull.”
Even after the Women’s Aid statement and record-breaking Ofcom complaints, the public response reflected a familiar pattern: male emotional abuse is excused as “boys being boys” or “testosterone overload,” while victims like Lauren are ridiculed. This isn’t public opinion, it’s public punishment. Digital misogyny is the new battleground, where women’s pain becomes content, and men’s cruelty becomes charisma. Love Island isn’t just complicit, it’s one of the architects.
The Bigger Picture: A Season Built on Misogyny
Harrison's arc is just one part of a broader narrative. More than 9,000 Ofcom complaints have been made this season alone, citing bullying, misogyny and emotional abuse. Contestants Harry, Dejon and Blu were specifically singled out by viewers for manipulative or degrading behaviour towards women.
Much of this is systemic. The show’s very format breeds toxicity. Women are expected to remain desirable to stay relevant. Assertiveness is punished. Emotional honesty is mocked.
Take Casa Amor: in one villa, the “OG boys” are presented with a line-up of new women, encouraged to flirt and “test their connection.” Meanwhile, the “OG girls” are expected to stay loyal, “graft,” or risk looking like villains. Producers then spin whatever fallout occurs into “must-see TV”, rarely stepping in when lines are crossed.
This isn’t clever editing. It’s cultural conditioning. When contestants like Shakira Khan and Toni Laites are reduced to tabloid caricatures for speaking out, they’re punished for daring to express discomfort. The message is loud and clear: your worth lies in your looks, not your voice.
Where Do We Go From Here?
The #MeToo movement sparked a reckoning. But if shows like Love Island continue to package coercive control as “heartbreak” and reduce women’s emotional boundaries to overreactions, then nothing has really changed.
ITV has an opportunity here. Real-time intervention when abuse arises. Inclusion of gender dynamics experts in post-show discussions. Transparent policies around informed consent, not just sexual but emotional too.
Because if boys will be boys, as this season implies, women will continue to pay the price in heartbreak, humiliation and harm.
And maybe it’s time we stop calling that entertainment.
Works Cited:
Women’s Aid, July 2025
Office for National Statistics, November 2023
Ofcom Audience Complaints, July 2025