“Thank God We’re Not the Boys on the Bus Because They Sound Boring as F—!”
The audacity of hope on political journalism show The Girls on the Bus.
The following contains light spoilers for The Girls on the Bus.
In 2016, I wrote about the presidential election. I was in the U.S. at the time, a trip timed to coincide with the election and what I, and many others, assumed would be the inauguration of Hillary Clinton. Hell, I even volunteered for her campaign, despite not being an American citizen and thus not able to vote for her, but it was indicative of my and, again, many others’ investment in her as a candidate running in opposition to the joke nomination of Donald Trump. Needless to say, I was devastated by the results. When the 2020 election rolled around and the stakes were seemingly even higher, I had to distance myself from it. Never again would I get so emotionally invested in a political campaign for a country I don’t even live in.
That’s kind of where we meet idealistic political journalist Sadie McCarthy (Melissa Benoist) in the Max series Girls on the Bus, loosely based on Amy Chozick’s memoir about her time covering Clinton’s two campaigns, Chasing Hillary. Girls on the Bus smartly modernises and fictionalises the storyline to a present day presidential primary race with no mention of Trump. The stand-in for Clinton, though, is Felicity Parker (Hettienne Park), a two-time presidential loser whom Sadie becomes unprofessionally attached to after covering her first bid for president three years earlier and being mocked for showing her feelings publicly instead of remaining unbiased. Same girl.
But while the political landscape of Girls on the Bus may be storified, its media landscape reflects that of today. Sadie’s editor Bruce (Griffin Dunne) once chided her for being emotional in her writing, but now he ponders whether “objectivity isn’t as important as authenticity… We’ve been objective for hundreds of years and our readers trust us less than ever.” At one point Cynical veteran reporter Grace (Carla Gugino) tells Sadie that if she dons a pink pussy hat she’s getting kicked off the bus.
One of the titular Girls on the Bus, Lola (Natasha Behnam) is a school shooting surviver-cum-TikTok influencer whose seat on the press bus is sponsored by Substack. Grace is skeptical of Lola’s ability to remain impartial in her opinions when she’s being sponsored by brands for them (Girls on the Bus doesn’t delve into how Sadie and Grace’s newspapers and Black TV journalist Kimberlyn’s [Christina Elmore] conservative station do so with their own advertisers). Her freedom from traditional news media means she’s able to pursue leads without that oversight, which could be risky (“That’s what editors are for—to check your blindspots,” Grace admonishes Lola after an unfortunate captioning incident), but ultimately it helps her break the story they’ve all been chasing. And her brand-building inspires Kimberlyn to break out of the “token Black woman” mould at her network and start her own media empire.
Ultimately, Girls on the Bus is a ra-ra feminist take on political journalism, replete with abortion and a powerful rant from Grace about how she doesn’t want to be defined by motherhood. We come to know each character not just through their personal politics but the lenses through which they see the world—hope, cynicism, youth and ambition.