Turn on the TV. Pick a streaming service. There she is. She’s usually white, young, and very, very still. Her body is draped artistically across a riverbank or tucked neatly into a basement corner. You’ve seen her in Twin Peaks, True Detective, and The Lovely Bones. This isn't just a trope; it’s an obsession that Alice Bolin dissected in her 2018 essay collection, Dead Girls: Essays on Resurrecting a Cultural Obsession.
Bolin basically called us all out. She looked at how the Dead Girls series of tropes—where a beautiful woman’s murder serves as the catalyst for a man’s self-discovery—has become the backbone of American prestige television. It’s everywhere. Honestly, once you see the pattern, you can’t unsee it. The "Dead Girl" isn't a character. She’s a MacGuffin. She is the empty vessel into which the male protagonist pours his grief, his genius, and his ultimate redemption.
The Anatomy of a Dead Girls Series
What makes something a "Dead Girls" story? It isn’t just a mystery. It’s a specific vibe. Think of Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks. She’s the blueprint. We don’t really know Laura while she’s alive; we only know her through the secret diary, the cassette tapes, and the memories of the people who loved (or used) her.
The story is rarely about her life. It’s about the "whodunnit" and the detective's internal struggle. Bolin points out that these stories often rely on the girl being "perfect" yet "troubled." She has to be innocent enough to deserve justice but "bad" enough to justify the gritty, noir exploration of her secrets. It’s a weird, contradictory pedestal.
Why do we watch this?
Let’s be real: these shows are addictive. There’s a certain comfort in the formula. The rainy Pacific Northwest, the brooding detective with a drinking problem, the small town with a dark secret. The Killing did it. Sharp Objects did it (though with a much-needed female-centric twist).
We consume these narratives because they provide a safe way to process the very real, very terrifying reality of violence against women. But Bolin argues that by constantly centering the male gaze on the female corpse, we’re reinforcing a narrative where a woman’s most interesting act is dying.
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Beyond the Body on the Beach
If you look at the Dead Girls series of tropes across different media, you notice a shift happening. We’re starting to see "The Rebuttal."
Shows like Big Little Lies or Mare of Easttown still deal with death, but they shift the focus. In Mare of Easttown, the "Dead Girl" (Erin McMenamin) feels like a person. We see her struggles with teen motherhood and her desperate need for money before she becomes a forensic file. It’s a subtle difference, but it matters. It moves away from the "disposable girl" narrative that Bolin critiqued so heavily.
The True Crime Connection
You can't talk about the Dead Girls series without talking about the true crime boom. Podcasts like Serial or My Favorite Murder often fall into the same traps Bolin describes. There’s a fine line between seeking justice and "tragedy porn."
Research from the University of Oregon has shown that women are the primary consumers of true crime. Why? Some psychologists suggest it’s a form of "survival rehearsal." We watch to see what went wrong so we can avoid the same fate. But when the media we consume treats the victim as a puzzle piece rather than a human, we lose the plot.
The Western Mythos and the "Dead Girl"
Bolin spends a significant amount of time linking the Dead Girls series to the American West. There’s this idea of the "frontier"—a place that is beautiful but inherently violent.
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In True Detective (Season 1), the landscape of Louisiana is as much a character as Rust Cohle. The dead women are part of the scenery. They are litter on the landscape of a broken world. Bolin notes that this connects back to classic literature and the idea that for a man to "conquer" the wilderness, or his own demons, something feminine usually has to be sacrificed. It’s a heavy thought for a Tuesday night binge-watch.
Is the Trope Finally Dying?
Sort of. Maybe.
We’re seeing more "Post-Dead Girl" stories. Look at Promising Young Woman. It takes the trope and turns it into a revenge thriller where the "dead girl" (who isn't even the protagonist) is the driving force of a systemic critique rather than just a detective’s motivation.
- Critique of the "Cool Girl": These stories are starting to deconstruct the idea that women have to be "manageable" even in death.
- Female Creators: When women write these mysteries (like Gillian Flynn), the internal life of the victim usually takes center stage.
- Diversity in Victims: For a long time, the "Dead Girl" was almost exclusively white. Modern series are finally—belatedly—acknowledging that the epidemic of missing and murdered Indigenous women (MMIW) and Black women deserves the same "prestige" investigative focus, though the industry still has a long way to go.
What Most People Get Wrong About Bolin’s Work
A lot of people think Dead Girls is just a "man-hating" rant against crime shows. It’s not. Bolin admits she loves these shows. She’s a fan. That’s why her critique is so sharp—it comes from a place of deep familiarity.
The point isn't to stop making or watching mysteries. The point is to ask why the mystery so often requires a female corpse to get started. Can we have a gripping, dark, atmospheric thriller where the woman is allowed to be the protagonist of her own life, even if that life is in danger?
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Actionable Ways to Change the Narrative
If you’re a fan of the genre but want to be a more conscious consumer, there are a few things you can do. It’s about being "active" rather than "passive" in front of the screen.
First, pay attention to the screen time. Does the victim have scenes alive that aren't just flashbacks of her being "mysterious" or "sexy"? If she only exists as a body or a memory, that’s a red flag for the "Dead Girl" trope.
Second, check who wrote it. Supporting female directors and writers in the mystery genre—like Jane Campion (Top of the Lake)—usually leads to more nuanced portrayals of female victims.
Third, read the book. Bolin’s Dead Girls is a great starting point, but also look into The Red Parts by Maggie Nelson. Nelson writes about the trial of her aunt’s murderer, and it’s a gut-wrenching look at what happens when a "Dead Girl" story is actually your family’s reality.
Finally, pivot your true crime consumption toward "victim-centric" media. Podcasts like Your Own Backyard (which helped solve the Kristin Smart case) focus on the person who was lost and the impact on the community, rather than the "genius" of the killer or the "grittiness" of the detective.
Moving away from the Dead Girls series mindset doesn't mean giving up your favorite genre. It means demanding that the stories we tell have more respect for the lives they're depicting. The "Dead Girl" was never just a body. She was a person. It’s time the scripts reflected that.
Next Steps for Readers
- Audit your watchlist: The next time you start a crime series, count how many minutes are spent on the victim’s actual life versus the detective’s personal problems.
- Read Alice Bolin’s collection: Specifically, the essay "The Veritable Abyss" for a deep look at Twin Peaks.
- Support MMIW initiatives: Since the "Dead Girl" trope often ignores non-white victims, look into organizations like the Sovereign Bodies Institute to understand the real-world implications of these narratives.
- Explore "Anti-Dead Girl" media: Watch I May Destroy You or read The Fact of a Body by Alexandria Marzano-Lesnevich for a more complex take on trauma and justice.