What began as a simple phrase—”fuck politeness”—has evolved into a movement that acknowledges women’s daily fears while providing concrete tools for resistance.
For generations, true crime media served as a tool for men’s control over women, using lurid stories of violence to encourage women’s fear and submission. From Victorian penny dreadfuls to mid-20th-century pulp magazines, these narratives reduced female victims to passive objects while often subtly suggesting they were somehow responsible for their victimization. Through sensationalized headlines and graphic details, these publications established troubling paradigms where female victims were portrayed either as helpless innocents whose deaths served as cautionary tales about the dangers of women occupying public spaces, or as morally corrupt casualties whose behavior supposedly invited violence. The message was clear: Women were meant to be frightened, not empowered by these stories.
Today, women are seizing control of these narratives and transforming them into powerful vehicles for resistance and collective action. Through podcasts, social media and community organizing, women reclaim the true crime genre that once sought to frighten them into submission, using it instead to build networks of solidarity and survival.
At the heart of this revolution is a deceptively simple phrase: “Fuck politeness.” This rallying cry has become “an integral part of the discursive politics” within the true-crime podcast community, especially My Favorite Murder (MFM), building on “women’s concerns about fear in their everyday lives” while encouraging listeners “to challenge the power of men directly.”
With approximately 19 million monthly listeners—80 percent of them women—MFM has transformed from a podcast into a movement fundamentally reshaping how women engage with true crime narratives.
The message was clear: women were meant to be frightened, not empowered by these stories.
The power of “fuck politeness” lies in how it “locates women’s daily fears and vulnerability to violence in the context of a feminist politics about deference and men’s status and power.”
Women are socialized from a young age to prioritize others’ comfort, even at the expense of their safety. This “deference behavior” is what feminist scholars identify as one way “women acknowledge and reinforce the higher social status of men.” However, through the MFM community, women find permission to reject these dangerous social expectations.
“Before I became a part of this community and was given permission to ‘fuck politeness,’ I would have uncomfortably chatted with this guy for fear of seeming rude. From a very young age, it’s ingrained in us to be polite and never offend anyone,” wrote one listener in Reddit.
As both a researcher and active member of these true crime communities, I have witnessed how this philosophy translates into practical action. Nearly half of female listeners actively engage with true crime content as educational tools, learning defense tactics and escape strategies, research shows. This isn’t just passive consumption—it’s part of a larger movement where women reclaim narratives that once sought to frighten them into submission.
This transformation is particularly evident in how podcasts handle survivor stories, as shown in their coverage of survivor stories like Mary Vincent. In 1978, 15-year-old Vincent survived a horrific attack where her assailant raped her, cut off both her arms, and left her in a ravine. While traditional media sensationalized the violence, MFM’s coverage centered on Vincent’s extraordinary resistance and survival strategies—using mud to stop the bleeding of her severed arms and climbing a 30-foot ravine.
They also highlighted her immediate tactical focus on preventing future victims. Despite massive blood loss and trauma, Vincent insisted on providing detailed descriptions to police before receiving medical care, ensuring her attacker’s swift capture. The episode then deliberately shifted focus to Vincent’s life of resistance: her fight for victims’ rights legislation, her artistic career creating “powerfully upbeat women,” and her role in changing California law through the “Singleton Bill,” which prevents early release for criminals who use torture.
Through podcasts, social media and community organizing, women reclaim the true crime genre that once sought to frighten them into submission, using it instead to build networks of solidarity and survival.
Vincent’s story exemplifies how MFM transforms true crime narratives from tales of victimization into blueprints for resistance.
This transformation continues through the podcast’s “minisodes,” where listeners share their experiences of recognizing and escaping dangerous situations. These crowdsourced stories create “underground archives of women’s tactical knowledge,” turning individual survival strategies into collective wisdom.
The impact extends far beyond digital spaces, demonstrating how “fuck politeness” transforms from a catchphrase into concrete action:
- In Portland, Ore., podcast listeners partner with domestic violence shelters to maintain safety mapping systems identifying secure routes and emergency contact points throughout the city.
- Seattle-based groups have developed comprehensive training programs with bar staff about recognizing drink tampering and predatory behavior.
The movement is also expanding beyond its predominantly white, middle-class origins. Emerging podcasts like Crime Noir and A Crime Most Queer explicitly center on the experiences of women of color and LGBTQ+ individuals, addressing how systemic racism, homophobia and other intersecting oppressions impact both the perpetration of violence and inadequate law enforcement responses. These shows provide culturally specific safety strategies and highlight community-based support networks outside traditional institutions.
This transformation of true crime from a source of fear into a tool for collective resistance represents a significant feminist victory. Women have fundamentally reshaped a genre that once sought to frighten them into submission, turning it into a powerful platform for education and collective action. Through these digital spaces, women have created networks that do more than just share stories—they develop practical survival strategies, build community support systems and challenge the institutions that have historically failed to protect them.
What began as a simple phrase—”fuck politeness”—has evolved into a movement that acknowledges women’s daily fears while providing concrete tools for resistance. In reimagining how stories of violence are told, women aren’t just changing narratives—they’re building pathways to power. The message emerging from these communities reflects a profound truth: while politeness has never protected women, solidarity and collective action can transform even our deepest fears into sources of strength.
