Evil Moms: From ‘East of Eden’ to ‘Carrie,’ TV’s Latest Trope Is Honoring Women Who Choose Themselves

Television has recently been preoccupied with evil moms, or at least that’s who they appear to be at first glance. In Zoe Kazan’s sweeping adaptation of John Steinbeck’s “East of Eden,” Lee (Hoon Lee), the Trask family’s domestic servant and surrogate father to the twin boys Aron (Joe Anders) and Cal (Joseph Zada), offers a poignant reflection. “There’s a beauty in the truth, even if it’s a dreadful beauty,” he says. Often, we evade or step around the facts. But dishonesty, no matter how innocent, is extremely harmful. The truth is that the world has rarely, if ever, been a safe space for women. To come of age in a patriarchal and violent society is a horrific thing. It corrodes the mind. It also forces girls and women to choose between two distinct paths. You either lean into male-centeredness or shun it entirely. Unfortunately, because patriarchy is a system that cannot be usurped, whether you lean toward it or try to burn it down, you will always be seen as monstrous by someone.

Television programming typically works in conversation with popular culture. Currently, there is a lot to be said about motherhood, women’s experiences across time and what it truly means to be evil. Netflix’s “Monster: The Lizzie Borden Story” and “East of Eden,” Peacock’s “Friday the 13th” prequel “Crystal Lake,” Prime Video’s “Carrie” and Hulu’s comedic thriller “Phony” are distinct entities that all speak to one another. These are narratives centered on women reclaiming their stories from men who have only been able to view them in limited ways. These shows are all about women who have done horrendous things. However, their actions, despite how they’re presented on the surface, have not been without reason.

In popular culture, men are depicted as barbarous, causing harm with impunity. Their behaviors are justified because, under patriarchy, men are poorly socialized and rely on women for empathy, care and comfort. As a result, when villainous men appear on screen in series like Ryan Murphy’s “Monster” franchise, Starz’s “Power” universe or HBO’s “Half Man,” they are senselessly volatile, nasty and murderous. This is not to suggest that women are immune to psychopathy. Yet their rates are far lower than men’s. Moreover, by living in a world not built for them, many women have learned to mask their most callous traits, making them unassuming and often, more lethal.

When a woman is outwardly sinister, it typically shocks those around her. As Cathy Ames (Florence Pugh) reflects in “East of Eden,” “Evil is not always apparent at first glance; it can come cloaked in beauty or goodness or love.” Furthermore, when people learn these depraved women are mothers, it completely upends how the matriarchal role is viewed, making them all the more compelling.

Perhaps it’s the nature of where we are in society, as female healthcare becomes increasingly sparse in certain parts of the country, as a rapist sits in the White House and as a generation of men seems intent on dragging women back in time to the 1950s. No matter the fixation, streamers, in particular, are turning their lens on several women determined to gain their agency by any means necessary.

In “Monster: Lizzie Borden,” set in the late 19th century, Lizzie (Ella Beatty) is terrorized by her conniving stepmother, Abby (Rebecca Hall), whom she calls Mrs. Borden. Because of the confining nature of her role as a bored, bitter housewife (despite her privilege), Mrs. Borden revels in wickedness. With no recourse against her aloof, philandering husband, Andrew (Charlie Hunnam), she lashes out at the only people she can control: her staff and her naive, flighty stepdaughter. Wielding her cruelty for sport, the first two episodes of “Lizzie Borden” show Mrs. Borden throwing hot soup in her maid’s face, beating Lizzie and speaking to her harshly. However, the final straw before Lizzie swings the ax, ending Mrs. Borden’s life, comes when the older woman shoots up the girl’s beloved dovecote in a flurry of bloody feathers. Mrs. Borden likely always had a tinge of nastiness to her spirit, but being trapped in a marriage with no recourse to freedom exacerbated it. It’s no surprise, then, that when a monster raises you, you often become larger and more vicious than ever dreamed.

Mrs. Borden’s villainy likely stems from boredom and resentment. But some women are forced to emerge from something much more depraved. When “East of Eden” opens, audiences meet a bloodied and battered Cathy. She is on the brink of death as she drags herself onto the porch of brothers Adam (Christopher Abbott) and Charlie’s (Mike Faist) modest Connecticut home. Though Adam is immediately mesmerized by Cathy, Charlie, barely able to contain his fury, senses the darkness within her.

Like Mrs. Borden, Cathy’s wickedness does not sprout from thin air. In Kazan’s narrative, she is sexually abused at age 5. This horrific incident forces Cathy to see the world in all of its depravity and the maddening horror of the people who let it fester in an effort to keep the peace. With absolute disdain for social norms and an understanding of the power and burden of her beauty, Cathy decides to carve her own path. She uses the men around her, including Adam, to obtain the one thing she’s striving for — financial independence. She does terrible things, but she is always honest about her intentions. She abandons her twin sons, telling Adam, “I don’t want them, I won’t change.” Later, when she sets her sights on Madame Faye (Martha Plimpton) to steal her brothel, she warns the older woman of her intentions before doing just that. Cathy is cold and calculated, but she is not overtly evil; she is unpunishable in a world intent on punishing women for much less.

A half-century later in Peacock’s “Crystal Lake,” Pam Voorhees (Linda Cardellini) is grieving her dead son. Previously immersed in the joys and trials of motherhood, she is adrift without Jason (Callum Vinson). Yet, the world wounded her long before her son drowned. Her humiliation begins a decade earlier when her husband moves her from New York City to Texas for what she believes is advanced prenatal treatment. Following Jason’s birth, she learns they’ve both been experimented on for the sake of her husband’s career. Though she escapes and tries to put the horrible endeavor behind her, after Jason dies and her husband hunts her down, Pam lashes out in gruesome ways. Her wrath, like Lizzie’s, is not self–made — it is born out of the lie of female hysteria which festers under the stifling cloak of misogyny.

Presently, America seems stuck in a state of appalling religious psychosis, a space Margaret White in “Carrie” knows all too well. Though she loves Carrie (Summer H. Howell), Margaret lets herself become a puppet of the patriarchy. Loyal to a male-centric theology, she terrorizes her only child, not even offering her the compassion of understanding her own body and menstrual cycle. What’s intriguing is that it’s clear Margaret feels trapped by her own religious beliefs, which is why, out of a desire to steer her own ship, she fashions herself an anti-bullying crusader while actively bullying and abusing Carrie. Instead of breaking the mold she’s been given, especially in the wake of her conspiracy theorist husband’s death, she chooses to work within it while manipulating and acting cruelly for her own gain.

Finally, there is Ellen Cooke from “Phony” (Connie Britton). Though the show is told mostly from the perspective of Ellen’s teenage son, Sonny (Sam Nivola), the series showcases how deeply present and active maternal figures affect their children’s well-being and what happens when those children sense something is amiss. Though Ellen isn’t as openly chaotic and sinister as Mrs. Borden, Cathy, Pam or Margaret, she acts in unnerving ways, shattering the connection Sonny has spent a lifetime building with her. The horror then becomes when women aren’t behaving as society or even their children expect them to.

Television is most interesting when characters are allowed to do outrageous things. When women operate outside of social norms, particularly mothers, it can be seen as horrific. The ladies depicted in these shows certainly have heinous moments. Yet, much of the terror we feel as viewers is because they choose themselves, even if it’s at the expense of their children. But perhaps what’s more evil is the fact that we live in a world where women haven’t been allowed to be self-serving. Should true freedom be widely granted to women, there would be little need for the nefarious deeds committed by the women in these shows.