How ‘My Mad Fat Diary’ Escaped the Tumblr Renaissance of Romanticised Mental Illness

The mid 90s teen drama that flipped the online script

TW: mentions of mental illness, suicide, and body image.

Before the flashy aesthetics of 'Euphoria' or the melodrama of '13 Reasons Why', Channel 4 presented British viewers an innovative look at teenage mental illness. And they did it to the tune of Britpop. Set in an unassuming Lincolnshire town in the middle of the 1990s, 'My Mad Fat Diary' tells the story of Rae Earl (Sharon Rooney), music-loving and precocious sixteen-year-old, who is attempting to re-enter the Stamford social scene after a recent suicide attempt. Rae quickly discovers her best friend Chloe (Jodie Comer), who believed Rae to have been living la vida loca in France for the past four months, has become prettier and more popular since she's been away. Getting in with Chloe's new, cool friends - a motley crew of '90s archetypes - proves difficult for Rae as she struggles to keep her worsening mental state under wraps. At the time 'My Mad Fat Diary' was released in 2013, people had finally begun to talk about mental health. Yet it remained a topic shrouded in taboo. How could writers make a successful TV show from a story with such bleak subject matter? Despite dealing with decidedly dark themes, the show had a trick up its sleeve in the form of bucket hats and Blur. Throughout its three seasons we see Rae navigate her return to the 'real' world against a soundtrack of bright and catchy British tunes. That Rae's struggle with mental illness is told to the theme song of The Charlatans' 'One to Another' is surprisingly relatable. 

But what was the approach to teenage mental illness in early-2010s media? The show's most well-known predecessor 'Skins', constantly cited in reviews for the show, inadvertently glamourised mental illness by revelling in the romance of being sad more than demonstrating the actual consequences of real depression. Unbeknownst to the show's writers, their show would go on to become a vanguard for an online, underground revolution of sorts. Characters like Effy Stonem and Cassie Ainsworth became the poster girls for Tumblr sub-communities, full of teenagers bonding over and even endorsing their own mental health conditions. Considering 'My Mad Fat Diary' came out during a time when young people were sharing aesthetically pleasing, black and white images of self-harm scars and videoing themselves pouring anti-depressant pills down the toilet to hundreds of followers, the show took a decidedly different route, remaining true to the less romanticised and often hilarious memoir of the real Rae Earl. 

But this does not mean the show was afraid to tackle the uglier side of mental illness. We see Rae struggle with her thoughts plenty of times throughout the show's run. By the end of the very first season she is hit by a car in another suicide attempt, right back to where she was at the beginning of the first episode. Writer Tom Bidwell does not deceit viewers into the idea that mental illness recovery is a linear process. He instead sees the value in Rae's many relapses and alerts viewers to her strength in consistently trying to push past them. More than this, Rae is a flawed protagonist. A less nuanced show would make Rae into an entirely sympathetic and meek character. Instead, we are able to see when she is being selfish, ignoring the needs of her best friends or sabotaging her mother's new relationship. The delicate, mild and perfectly depressed girls on your 2014 Tumblr dashboard are worlds away from the witty, feisty and imperfect Rae Earl. By giving us a protagonist whose mental illness admittedly got the better of her at times, 'My Mad Fat Diary' steered clear of deluding its young audience into thinking that mental illness is "cool" whilst simultaneously reassuring them that it is not something to be ashamed of either. 

As the title would suggest, the show also subverted the contemporarily romanticised notion of mental illness by casting a quote-on-quote "fat" actress as the lead. If you asked any teenage girl what she wanted most in 2015, nine times out of ten she would have said a thigh gap. Countless hours spent in front of the mirror pushing and pulling at your inner thighs to see what you would look like if they didn't touch was a common experience for many young women during this period. Of course, our favourite teenage icon Effy Stonem also happened to possess one. It is important to mention that Kaya Scoledario or the 'Skins' writers are in no way responsible for the 'thigh-gap' phenomenon. But it was refreshing to see Rae, a much bigger actress, take centre-stage. She didn't fit society's standards of beauty nor was her weight the butt of the joke, a huge departure from the '90s' reverence for "fat jokes" (need I mention Monica Geller?). Sharon Rooney's quietly confident portrayal of a character who had an extremely complex relationship with their body only added to the show's nuance. This sort of representation was arguably unprecedented, especially in teen media. 

Not only was Rae an alternative female protagonist. She also got the guy! Her almost enemies-to-lovers romance with Finn Nelson (Nico Mirallegro) was exciting to watch unfold and satisfying considering the previous romantic treatment, or lack thereof, of plus-size characters in modern media. Readers may scoff at the idea that the hunky, popular Finn ends up with the self-proclaimed 'Mad Fat' Rae. And the who does not simply ignore such doubts. Rae's body insecurities in fact become a major problem in their relationship despite Finn's constant reassurance of his feelings for her. In one particularly affective scene, the two finding themselves trapped in a disabled toilet, Rae lets her self-doubt take over as she proclaims that everyone must think Finn, would be "crazy" to date her. Rather than walk away or buy into Rae's insecure rant, Finn asserts the nonsensical nature of his feelings, claiming that he doesn't know why he likes Rae but he does and that no one, not ever her, can tell him who he can and cannot love. Once again, instead of creating an unrealistic fairytale, the show explores the actualities one has navigating a relationship with body-image issues. Departing from the online dogma of thin-equals-beautiful, 'My Mad Fat Diary' reminded young viewers that they did not need to change themselves in order to give or receive love. 

A lot has changed in the discourse of mental illness since 'My Mad Fat Diary' ended in 2015. The dialogue has shifted from one of romanticism to one of normalisation. Nowadays, teenagers are less inclined to revel in self-pity than they are to be concerned with the state of the world around them. Or at least that's what the constant sharing of educational instagram threads on various global conflicts would suggest. But there still remains a fear that young people will slip back into a romantic notion of mental health issues. The World Health Organization stated that stated last year that suicide was the fourth leading cause of death in 15-19-year-olds. Despite the barrage of criticism being retrospectively levied at characters such as Effy, there remains an idea that mental illness makes one interesting or even funnier or smarter than their peers. Many blogs from the Tumblr renaissance remain active and popular, suggesting that there remains an audience for the notion of mental illness as a form of identity. 'My Mad Fat Diary', now experiencing its own mini renaissance since its 2019 release on Hulu, remains an important depiction of teenage mental illness because it refuses to make it glamorous. It may not be perfect, sometimes sensationalising therapy for entertainment value or missing the mark with its exploration of sexuality (Archie wasn't given enough screen time). Yet the show remains a trailblazer in its honest and sensitive portrayal of teenage mental illness, released at a time when young people were practically crying out for help.