The Unsettling Allure of True Crime: Why We Can’t Look Away From Lizzie Borden
Let’s be honest: there’s something deeply creepy about our collective obsession with serial killers. We binge-watch documentaries about their atrocities, dissect their childhood traumas on podcasts, and now—courtesy of Ryan Murphy—we’re turning accused axe-murderer Lizzie Borden into a prestige TV spectacle. The teaser for Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story dropped recently, and it’s everything you’d expect from Murphy’s factory of macabre nostalgia—blood-splattered visuals, a haunting nursery rhyme, and enough dramatic tension to keep Twitter theories churning. But beneath the glossy production lies a far more unsettling question: Why does society remain so fixated on stories like this? And what does it say about us?
Lizzie Borden: Not Just Another ‘Girlboss Gone Rogue’
First, let’s address the elephant in the room: Lizzie Borden wasn’t convicted of the crimes that made her infamous. This isn’t Dahmer or the Menendez brothers, where guilt was (relatively) cut-and-dry. She walked free after her 1893 trial, despite being the prime suspect in her father and stepmother’s hatchet murders. What fascinates me here isn’t the brutality—it’s the narrative contortions we’ve performed for over a century to make her either a villainess or a victim. The show’s teaser leans into the ‘female rage’ angle, a trope that’s become oddly fashionable in 2024. But let’s not kid ourselves: if Lizzie were a man, we wouldn’t be romanticizing her ‘repression.’ We’d just call her a psychopath and move on.
Why Female Killers Get a Special Kind of Attention
One thing that immediately stands out is how the media treats women who commit extreme violence. Male killers become cautionary tales; female perpetrators become enigmas. The Monster teaser hints at a romantic relationship with the family maid—a narrative choice that screams ‘queer tragedy chic.’ From my perspective, this isn’t just about historical accuracy; it’s about selling a palatable version of Lizzie that modern audiences can ‘understand.’ We’re more comfortable pathologizing her sexuality than confronting the possibility that she was simply a violent person who escaped justice. It’s the same reason we obsess over Myra Hindley’s ‘pretty photos’ or debate whether Aileen Wuornos ‘deserved’ her fate.
The Danger of Mythmaking in True Crime
Here’s what many people don’t realize: the Lizzie Borden myth is far bloodier than reality. Her father sustained 11 blows, not 40. The ax-wielding caricature is a product of playground rhymes and Hollywood sensationalism. Murphy’s series risks amplifying these distortions rather than unpacking them. When the teaser cuts to her pet pigeons being slaughtered, it’s not showing history—it’s weaponizing symbolism. Personally, I think this blurring of fact and fiction is deeply problematic. It turns real victims (including Abby Borden, whose gruesome death gets reduced to a plot device) into props for a broader ‘oppression narrative.’
What This Story Reveals About Our Cultural Priorities
If you take a step back and think about it, the timing of this series is no accident. In an era of #MeToo and rising anti-woman violence statistics, stories about female rage resonate differently now. But does dramatizing a 130-year-old unsolved case actually advance the conversation? Or are we just repackaging trauma for streaming metrics? The show’s promotional materials emphasize ‘mythic proportions,’ which feels like a cop-out. It’s easier to mythologize Lizzie than to ask uncomfortable questions about how women who defy societal norms get vilified—or acquitted, as the case may be.
Final Thoughts: Are We Just Voyeurs in a Never-Ending Horror Show?
I’ll admit it: I’ll probably watch Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story. We’re all complicit in this voyeuristic cycle. But let’s not pretend these narratives exist in a vacuum. Every true crime docuseries, every TikTok deep-dive into ‘cursed’ murders, shapes how we perceive justice, gender, and morality. By resurrecting Lizzie as a feminist antiheroine—or a repressed monster—the show reinforces a dangerous binary: women who kill are either victims of patriarchy or monstrous aberrations. What if the truth is simpler, and far scarier? What if some people are just capable of terrible things, regardless of gender? That’s a question no Netflix teaser will ever answer.
