Netflix's "Sex Education" From Someone Who Does Sex Therapy
I know I am late to the game—Netflix’s Sex Education has been streaming for over a year and its second season came out Friday—BUT OH MY GOSH it is so good! I’ve binged the entirety of both seasons in a matter of days.
I’ll be honest, one of the reasons I put off watching the show for so long is I was afraid it would be disappointing. After seeing so many terrible portrayals of therapy/therapists on tv (You, anyone? Arrested Development? How To Get Away With Murder?), I was afraid this show would be more of the same. More counselors crossing boundaries, being unethical, sleeping with or smoking with clients. Terrible, untrue sex education. Inappropriate portrayals of sexuality. Ah! I was so nervous that a show with my actual career field at its core would be spreading misinformation and causing harm.
Instead what I found was a beautiful, real, tribute to normalizing sexual issues, a sweet portrayal of coming of age stories, friendships featuring complex characters, and yes, one therapist who means well but makes a lot of missteps and another who definitely sleeps with a client—we knew it would happen.
Still, I love the show. I think it is an incredibly valuable piece of art that everyone would benefit from watching. Here is why:
Real Sexual Issues
From about five seconds in to episode one, we start seeing a real, honest portrayal of the sex questions and difficulties we all deal with. Difficulty getting and maintaining an erection, difficulty reaching orgasm, the ways in which our own self-conscious, self-negative thoughts can really mess with our sex lives—our lives in general.
That normalization of sexual issues only continues. Being too nervous to have sex with the lights on or shoving a pillow in a partners eyes so they don’t see your “O” face (oh my gosh, I’m disgusting—I don’t want to be seen). Feeling inexperienced in a new sexual relationship. Having a gag-reflex that makes giving head hard. Feeling like we are the cause of our partner’s problems. Believing that problems with sex are just problems with sex—not the relationship, as they commonly are. Feeling uncomfortable with our own sexuality. Feeling dirty or bad about masturbation.
Its just so real. And the show does not approach these issues with shame, but with an attitude of “this is normal. There is help. Talk about it.” What a beautiful message!
What would it mean for all of us to hear that? How might that change our experience of our sexuality—or our experience of ourselves? I wonder, very seriously, if we all had been met with “this is normal, its okay, there is hope,” if we all wouldn’t feel a lot less shame about sex—about just being human. I have a hunch that we would have an easier time connecting with others. And man, wouldn’t that be cool?
Revenge Porn and Sexual Assault
Revenge porn is a real, hurtful, terrible thing. What I loved about the way this was handled was the way the whole cast of characters came together to stand up (and with) the victim.
Let me explain. When Ruby, a member of the show’s Mean Girls clique, is threatened with the release of a sexual photo she took, not only do characters encourage her “this can only shame you if you let it, we all have bodies—its okay”—they also come forward to protect her from the potential exposure. As the picture spreads, some students become cruel—mocking the individual who took the picture’s “big beef curtains.” In order to protect Ruby from humiliation, the students come together stating “it is my vagina” during a meeting of the student body. One after another, students stand and state “its my vagina” (to which the headmaster replies: it cannot be all your vaginas!)
They don’t allow shaming of the picture taker to take place. Not by saying “you shouldn’t mock” and not by blaming Ruby with comments like “you shouldn’t have taken the photo.” Instead, they all take ownership to protect her. Its silly and beautiful and I love it.
What is, perhaps, even more beautiful, is the portrayal of sexual assault in season two. The character Aimee is on the bus when she is sexually assaulted. A man behind her on the bus masturbates and cums on her jeans. At first, Aimee tries to brush off the event—tries to act like it is no big deal and like it does not affect her. Soon, though, we see the trauma taking its hold on her. She is no longer able to ride the bus. She is no longer able or willing to experience sexual touch. She has flashbacks and trauma responses that are very natural for a survivor.
When the other girls find out about Aimee’s experience, they share their own. One was catcalled and blamed for it (“don’t wear shorts that short!”). Another was groped by a stranger. Yet another was flashed. This sharing of experiences helps them all reject potential shame from these assaults; it brings them together and allows them to feel and heal as one.
And these are all just that: assaults. I think it is really common for us to think of “sexual assault” as a man jumping out of the bushes and violently attacking a woman. A man forcefully holding her down, hurting her, and shoving his penis inside of her. Of course, that is assault—but things don’t have to be so violent or extreme to still cause lasting trauma. I appreciate Sex Education recognizing that.
Note: Maeve, Aimee’s best friend, asks Aimee to report the sexual assault as a birthday gift. While, ultimately, this action seems to validate the sexual assault—I also want to just give a word of caution for other best friends who may be the first to hear of such a trauma. Yes, it is important to validate our friends’ experiences—but it is also important to give them back the power of choice. While we can offer, “I will go with you if you choose to report”, it really needs to be the survivor’s choice whether or not they do so. If they say no, or they aren’t ready, that needs to be okay. Sexual assault inherently takes away our ability to choose—it is so important for our healing as survivors to be given that ability back.
Celebration of the BLGTA+ community
Representation matters. Seeing yourself on tv matters. It not only affects the way others see minorities, it affects the way we see ourselves. In a world where bi-erasure is such a thing, or where being “gay” puts us in a box, it is amazing to see a show that embraces all of the diversity in the BLGTA+ community.
There are gay characters, lesbian characters, bi and pan characters—assexual characters! And not only are there characters with these sexualities—but!—these sexualities are not the “whole” of them. They each have other defining characteristics that help make them complex, three demential, and relatable. None of them feel like the “token” gay.
George Gerbner and Larry Gross stated “Representation in the fictional world signifies social existence; absence means symbolic annihilation.”
Having a show with this BLGTA diversity lets those of us with “different” sexualities feel like we exist, that we are normal, and that we can be accepted. That we can have varied relationships. That we can be worthy. How cool is that?
I could keep going with praise for this show. The most popular kid in school has anxiety issues and same sex parents. He self-harms to cope with too much pressure (and his friend tells his parents so he can find help, even at the risk of their relationship. Love!). Friendships are presented as hard. Communication seems insufficient and difficult. People deal with bullying and attempts to live up to strict ideals. Struggles of privilege and lack there-of are presented. Barriers to success, like finances or drug-addicted parents, are explored. A sex therapist is respected as the expert she is—people advocate for informed sex education! You want it, its there.
Sex Education is the perfect show for 2020. It gives us a version of the world that we can all see ourselves in. It tackles tough topics with finesse. It is just great.
If watching the show has inspired you to talk about real sex issues, I recommend finding a certified sex therapist to speak with. You can find a whole group of them here.
If you’d like to share your sexual journey with me, schedule today.
