Is it okay for women to love true crime?

We make up 70% of victims. But does that make us justified?

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I have a close relationship with fear. While it might seem like human nature to distance ourselves from what scares us, I’ve always fought with a desire to lean in. I have pretty severe arachnophobia, for example, but if I get the chance to ogle a dirty great spider from a safe distance, I’ll do it. Some of my favourite films are The Exorcist and Silence of the Lambs, and I can quite comfortably fall asleep to audiobooks about the lives and minds of serial killers. 

To be obsessed with horror and true crime often paints a picture of emotional removal—as though ingesting the content is only a stone’s throw away from doing it. But I don’t feel cold or inhumane as a person. In fact, I feel quite the opposite. I’m frequently left reeling by the strength of my love for others, and my desire to keep vulnerable people safe.   

Perhaps because of this, my relationship with true crime is rocky. I’m enthralled by it, but I also feel guilty about that fact. There’s a part of me that would like to be better than the genre, and another part that feels justified in my obsession. My boyfriend thinks it’s weird. My parents are bemused—“So, who’s getting murdered today?” my father will say, rolling his eyes as he walks past the television. 

But how weird is my obsession with true crime, really? And, as women, how guilty should we feel about an interest that many of us can’t seem to shake?      

The figures tell their own scary story

At the very least, it’s emboldening to know that I’m not alone. Women make up around 80% of the overall true crime audience—and they also make up 70% of serial killer victims. The World Health Organization also estimates that around one in three women have experienced physical and/or sexual intimate partner violence, or non-partner sexual violence in their lifetime. And in 2022, 97% of women had been sexually harassed in the UK.  

Interestingly, women’s interest in true crime also rose significantly with the invention of dating apps. The re-normalisation of meeting up with strange, unverified men does parallel the hitch-hiking days of the sixties and seventies when serial killers were at their most prolific.         

A world of True Crime podcasts at our fingertips

An obsession, or a survival instinct? 

If we focus on these figures, the answer to why women love true crime seems obvious: it’s educational. The more we listen, the more we learn. And I do believe that years of listening to detailed retellings of attacks and survival stories has made me better prepared for such an incident. I know about recurring red flags, everyday objects you can use in self-defence, how to control a bleeding wound, and all the secret emergency settings my phone has.  

But it’s not just about learning how to avoid being the next victim, there’s also an emotional reason we feel attached and attracted to these kinds of stories. In an article for The Guardian, Nancy Jo Sales writes: “Through consuming true crime content…women experience catharsis; they work out their fears about their own vulnerability and perhaps their rage about what has happened to other women as well.” 

It’s well documented that, for women who have experienced violence, abuse or sexual trauma, recreating the situation in safe environments can be healing. As Dalia Spektor, PhD, a licensed clinical psychologist, says: “[You] allow yourself to enter the process of reliving it and actually work through all of those feelings. You’re reestablishing a sense of control and mastery over the trauma.”   

If I were to look at my own consumption of true crime like a study, my interest has definitely increased in line with my exposure to trauma. When a close friend died by suicide a decade ago, and my father was diagnosed with incurable cancer a few years later, my interest in true crime became more pronounced. It’s almost like I needed perspective. I needed to know that there were people out there who had gone through terrible things, too. I needed to know there were ways to get through the very worst. 

So, is our obsession with true crime justified?

The problem with true crime as content is that it frequently lacks ethical and emotional care. Podcasts like My Favorite Murder and the countless documentaries churned out by Netflix can try their best to keep the victims and their families in mind, but the real driving force is always profit. This article by Mollie Goodfellow talks about the disgust she felt hearing a podcast plugging their own “fan merch” between brutal stories about femicide. The profiteering off the lived horrors of others hadn’t been remotely disguised—it was brazen, unapologetic.     

I similarly shifted uncomfortably through Penance, the explosive novel by Eliza Clark that lifts the lid on how true crime can influence both our empathy and the way society views us. It poses a difficult question for any compassionate true crime fan: is our fascination with hearing about murder increasing the likelihood of it taking place?  

“Dahmer” (Netflix 2022) failed to tell the real-life families of the victims that yet another series was being made about the murders of their loved ones.

Can we make our true crime consumption more ethical?

For those of us who feel like we rely on true crime to overcome trauma, ease anxiety, or learn how to avoid becoming a victim, perhaps the only way to continue to consume true crime is by following stricter ethical rules than the ones that are readily available to us. 

Instead of watching a sensationalised Netflix series on Jeffrey Dahmer that failed to warn the already-traumatised victim’s families beforehand (or pay them any royalties, for that matter), perhaps read the works of Michelle McNamara who tirelessly fought to bring the Golden State Killer to justice. Instead of purchasing a t-shirt that tells the world how much you love a good murderer, perhaps use that money to fund one of the countless charities that support survivors or the families and friends of victims. 

And lastly, take stock of how the content you consume speaks about victims versus perpetrators. Are they sensationalising, rationalising, or even celebrating these famed serial killers? Because if they are, it might be time to get introspective. As women, we are the most likely to end up as the victim of the next terrible crime. If such a thing were to happen, would we be happy for our story to be told by the people we so frequently listen to? Would they do us justice? Or would we be just another photo, a brief name check…a quip before the ad break? 

For more writing, poetry and pics, follow me on Instagram @alannaduffield