Taylor Frankie Paul, the canceled lead of ABC’s “The Bachelorette,” built her 7.2 million social media followers not by capitalizing on her Mormon faith, or as a mother of three, but on scandal. 

Paul rose to fame as the ringleader of “MomTok,” a group of seven Mormon mothers who became a TikTok sensation beginning in 2020. In 2022, Paul went on TikTok Live to confess the group had engaged in “soft-swinging,” which is a non-monogamous arrangement among married couples. The confession ended her marriage, fractured her friendships, and earned her praise from fans for being “authentic.”

The scandal launched “The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives,” which premiered on Hulu in 2024 and became the platform’s most-watched reality debut of the year. Its popularity caused The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints to distance itself from the show’s portrayal of its faith.

Paul, over the course of four seasons, has had a third child out of wedlock with a partner who has cheated on her repeatedly — all documented on camera throughout the show.

This is the woman ABC mistakenly chose to headline its flagship romance franchise, before canceling the season when Paul’s 2023 domestic abuse charges resurfaced three days before “The Bachelorette” aired. The choice was deplorable to begin with.

Paul’s fame did not come through happenstance. It was built through an audience that praises, follows, and makes excuses for her. The most recent scandal, in which Paul is filmed throwing a metal chair at her third child’s father, shows one of her other children crying in the background, but the excuses from fans have continued flowing. Her audience reflects the way culture rewards women: instability for entertainment.

The common theme of Paul’s public story is not authentic resilience or redemption. It is a monetization of instability. Her failed relationships, her arrests and courtroom appearances, and every tearful confession have become her top-selling content, packaged as vulnerability and marketed to fans as relatability. The message beneath the layers of instability in Paul’s online presence is that there are no consequences to deplorable actions — it is the opposite, she is excused by her entire fanbase. These actions became the reason she was named the 2026 bachelorette. 

As the culture gets caught up in the drama of reality TV, we forget one serious thing: Paul is a person, with three children, and needs help. Her self-destruction is marketed as self-expression. The culture praising Paul for a performance in honesty falsely attributes virtue to authenticity, rather than demanding accountability. 

“The Bachelorette” fed the beast of this culture of womanhood. It chose her because people find her storyline entertaining when it should be concerning. Paul’s dissolution of marriage and family is not liberation. It is a tragedy. While Paul suffers on-screen, and most definitely off-screen, she is not the only one suffering. Her children are being traumatized, and now their horror stories are displayed to the world in video footage. 

Culture might elevate instability for entertainment, make infidelity content, use multiple baby daddies for dramatic flare, and even excuse domestic violence. But this is not empowerment. Paul is popular for every wrong reason.