The Butterfly Effect | Issue 19
Cancel Culture
It’s been a week, and I can’t help but reflect on one of the more pervasive cultural stories dominating the internet—most notably The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives.
I’ll admit—I’m hooked, too. I came in late, binging season one just before the second aired, but caught up quickly.
The premise isn’t complicated: a group of attractive women—Mormons of varying degrees—filming a reality show built on drama. Swinging, drinking, toxic relationships—this was the foundation from episode one.
Fast forward three years, and the public is suddenly outraged.
But what did we expect?
The show was built on the very chaos now being condemned across podcasts, media, and social platforms. The incident currently dominating headlines is not new. Taylor Frankie Paul was arrested, entered a plea, and returned to filming years ago.
The difference now is visibility.
And with it, discomfort. Not because the behavior is new—but because the optics are.
A video has surfaced showing Taylor, in a fit of rage, throwing bar stools at Dakota Mortensen, the father of her youngest child.
In the room—her daughter from a previous marriage, audibly distressed. Whether or not the stool struck her remains unclear—accounts vary.
Is there any excuse for this behavior? Of course not.
Should Taylor have spiraled to this degree—particularly with her child present? Unequivocally not.
But it begs the question: what happened before Dakota turned the camera on?
And if he was composed enough to record, why wasn’t his first instinct to remove the child from the situation?
Then there’s timing.
The video surfaced just days before Taylor’s anticipated debut as The Bachelorette on ABC—a season now reportedly sidelined in light of its release.
There’s more to the story than we know—there always is. Neither Taylor nor Dakota are innocent victims, but Taylor has never tried to make herself out to be innocent. After the incident, she took responsibility for her actions and sought therapy.
Has her rehabilitation been perfect? Likely not. And anyone who has watched season 4 can see her once again spiraling—though verbally, not physically.
Dakota, on the other hand, appears intent on positioning himself as a victim—all while filming, accusing, filing restraining orders, and, quite possibly, distributing footage. It’s been a busy week.
We live in a culture of cancellation, and everyone is quick to jump on the bandwagon—influencers taking to TikTok to condemn Frankie Paul, cast mates speaking against her and refusing to film.
But while everyone is quick to point fingers and take sides, who among us is really looking in the mirror?
Should producers have aired a show that built its roots in the polluted soil of domestic violence? Perhaps not. But are any of us really surprised that what was planted in polluted soil is now rotting on the vine?
And what responsibility do we, the viewers, have for drinking the water for three years and now complaining that it’s toxic? We knew that from the get-go. If we had changed the channel, Hulu would have heard us years ago.
And those clutching their pearls now—three years too late—are likely to be the same ones who tune in to watch season 5 of Mormon Wives and The Bachlorette, should they see the light of day.
Maybe instead of pointing fingers, it’s time we looked more closely in the mirror.