‘Shrill’ Season 2 Brilliantly Skewers The Line Between Self-Care and Selfishness

Early in Shrill‘s second season Annie’s mom (Julia Sweeney) runs away to Montreal. She doesn’t warn her daughter (Aidy Bryant) or husband (Daniel Stern) before she goes; she just drives, causing their season-wide panic. Eventually Vera explains that fleeing to Canada was her way of putting herself first for once. But it’s the worry and anxiety leading up to this revelation that sets Shrill apart from the rest of television and, in many ways, life in 2020. During a time when Goop prevails and self-care is heralded as something between a toll-free right and a requirement, Shrill acknowledges its importance while also diving into its often unexplored costs.

This is hardly anything new in Lindy West’s Hulu original. Annie’s quest for confidence and her own voice has always been one side of a coin that also includes emotional labor from her friends and family. Season 1 perfectly summarized this dynamic in a loving diss from Lolly Adefope’s Fran: “Annie’s my family. And even though she’s going through a bit of a selfish phase right now, I’d do anything for her.” But Shrill‘s new season doubles down on this point: putting the self first, even therapeutically, always means putting others second.

Of course being self-centered is never a blanket statement “bad” thing. Much like in Season 1, Annie’s newfound and exacerbated self-interest continues to benefit her. Her growing honesty with her boss Gabe (John Cameron Mitchell) and Gabe’s boss Shelia (Illeana Douglas) only fuels her career. And dating Ryan (Luka Jones) the man-child does seem to bring her genuine joy.

Similarly it’s Fran this time who turns being self-centered into something therapeutic after she decides to stop dating anyone. This is the season’s most positive and explicit example of self-care. Fran feels down after a string of bad relationships, so how does she nurture herself? By removing herself from the stressors of the dating pool and ultimately emerging happier and more balanced.

But these wins always come at a cost to others. For Annie, that means her boyfriend becoming jealous as her work life becomes more important than him. It also means that her friends and family — especially the insanely hot Lamar (Akemnji Ndifornyen) — are stuck dealing with Ryan. For Fran that means a bunch of eye rolls from her best friend and some potential heartbreak from one character in the finale’s twist.

It isn’t until Episode 6, undoubtably the strongest of the bunch, that Shrill puts an actual monetary and societal cost on the concept of self-care. Annie is assigned to cover a women’s empowerment convention called WAHAM led by a fearless former CEO, Justine (Vanessa Bayer). But beneath WAHAM’s pastel pink minimalism there’s a dirty edge. Products like leg makeup and marble dildos are sold for shocking amounts of money, all under the guise of empowerment. As Annie quickly realizes WAHAM’s brand of self-care looks an awful lot like the typical constraints of a patriarchal society, right down to who is allowed to enter the hallowed halls of this “feminist” space. When Annie tries to find the one middle-to-lower class woman who was offered a WAHAM scholarship, she can’t. Turns out that woman had to work.

Instead Shrill‘s wellness industry takedown is packed with the very same kinds of white, rich women who are often criticized for monetizing feminism and prohibiting intersectionality. The episode makes its point clear. Real self-care cannot be monetized. Pretending otherwise is consciously ignoring what the term actually means, especially to a gender that has been historically undervalued and in need of more actionable care. The fact that the aesthetics of WAHAM perfectly mirror much-criticized female-centered organizations and events like Gwyneth Paltrow’s lifestyle brand Goop, the women-only coworking space The Wing, and Instagram influencer Caroline Calloway’s tumultuous Creative Workshops only further drives the point home.

In the world of Shrill, self-care isn’t a new lotion or face massager that promises to iron out invisible wrinkles. It’s getting an abortion, taking a chance on someone you and no one else loves, and forcing yourself to be celibate. It’s work and it has a cost to everyone around you. But it’s also necessary. As it so aptly argued about fatness in Season 1, Shrill argues there’s something profoundly fucked up about society’s current concept of self-care, and there’s a thin line between that, and selfishness.

Watch Shrill on Hulu