The Final Gaslight: How You Exposed the Lies I Once Believed

“Maybe we have a problem as a society. Maybe we should fix what’s broken within us. Maybe the problem isn’t me. Maybe it’s you,” Joe says, looking straight into the camera.

That line. That last line from the final episode of YOU—it hit like a slap in the face. I paused. Rewound. Played it again. Did I hear that right? Was this show, which I once viewed as a subtle feminist critique, really turning the blame back on us—the audience? Was You saying that we were somehow complicit?

For five seasons, you might also watched Joe Goldberg a manipulative stalker and serial killer prey on women under the guise of love. His voiceovers romanticized his every move, turning obsession into devotion, violence into twisted justice. And we kept watching. Some of us even rooted for him. But then came that chilling moment, where Joe, in a final act of control, shifts the blame to society… to us.

Excuse me? Should we feel guilty for watching? For being drawn in by the thrill, the darkness, the slow unraveling of his victims' lives? For seeing the red flags and hoping—irrationally—that maybe this time he wouldn't kill her?

This, right here, is Joe’s most dangerous manipulation. His last gaslight. A mirror held up to women everywhere who’ve been blamed for the harm done to them. It's no different from asking a survivor, “But what were you wearing?”

And still… we did watch. We did thirst. We did ask for more.

But here’s what needs to be said: liking You doesn't mean we support what Joe did. We are not cheering for the real-life predators. We are not broken for finding complexity in fiction. What’s insulting is the suggestion that female audiences can’t differentiate between fantasy and reality—that we’re somehow responsible for the monster the show created.

Yet, Joe’s words opened a wound. A wound many of us have lived with quietly.

Because that final scene reminded me of every toxic man I waited on. Every time I gave someone “one more chance,” thinking love could fix the cracks. I remembered how I made excuses—he’s just emotionally unavailable, he’s had a rough past, he doesn’t know how to express love. I remembered how I romanticized red flags and mistook emotional chaos for passion.

You is not just about Joe. It’s about us. About what we tolerate, what we normalize, and the lies we tell ourselves in the name of love. It’s about how society teaches women to endure rather than escape. To explain rather than confront. To heal others at the cost of our own scars.

So no, Joe. The problem is you. But maybe you were right about one thing maybe we do have a problem as a society. And maybe, just maybe, the show you starred in forced us to finally look it in the eye.

But here’s the part I’m most proud to write:

I’ve passed that stage.

I’m grateful I learned.

I walked away from toxic men.

And I’ve found love,real love that feels safe, kind, and nourishing.

And that love? It doesn’t come with red flags. It comes with peace.