As the iconic, widely-loved Netflix original ends with a bang (pardon the pun), writer Hannah Bradfield chats to those working in the sex and sexual health spaces to discuss the real-world impact of Laurie Nunn’s small screen triumph.
I distinctly remember watching Sex Education for the first time. My university flat would often gather to watch something in the kitchen — taking it in turns to choose the evening viewings. Gingerly stepping over discarded bits of pasta and the odd baked bean, we would arrange the kitchen furniture around the table so we could all see the laptop screen precariously propped up with unopened textbooks and various kitchen utensils. One evening, as I looked up from the last-minute essay I was writing and saw a raunchy, full-frontal sex scene playing out at max volume, I wondered what on earth my flatmate had opted for. Everyone looked at each other, bemused and intrigued in equal measure. As it turns out, our flatmate had put on the first thing that appeared on Netflix’s top ten list of that day: Sex Education.
Since its rambunctious arrival to our screens in 2019, Sex Education has been received with both audience and critical acclaim. Season three (which took Best Comedy Series at the 2022 Emmy Awards) had 66.6M views in its first 91 days on Netflix. Aimee Lou Wood, who portrays fan favourite Aimee Gibbs on the show, won the BAFTA for Female Performance in a Comedy Programme in 2021, and was a nominee for the same award the following year. Emma Mackey, the force behind Maeve’s complex character, received the EE Rising Star award at this year’s BAFTAs. Wood was also nominated. From recipients of prestigious accolades to our next Doctor (Ncuti, we love you), the cast, many of whom were fresh drama school graduates, have all made a mark on the industry.
According to data from media analytics firm Ampere Analysis, on average, a Netflix Original gets just two seasons before being cancelled. So, how did Sex Education make it to a fourth?
“Everyone gets something from it. It’s not just a teen show.”
Hope Flynn is the head of sexual health content at the sexual wellness brand & medical startup iPlaySafe App and founder of Feed Me Female, an online community championing honest and unfiltered conversations surrounding the female experience. A big fan of the show and sexual health advocate, Flynn says how important it has been in creating a safe space to tackle topics that might be perceived as ‘taboo’. She says: “There are parents in the show, there are teachers, there’s adults, there’s kids, and I think even older people can watch and relate back to things that they have been through, or what they’ve experienced.
“It could be a parent watching the show who has a young child, and they relate to it because they are learning how to maybe address or deal with this kind of thing when their child is of a certain age, or the age they are at.”
Flynn adds: “It’s not just a teen show. I watched it with my mum, my mum loved it as well.”
I also watched a fair share of episodes with my mum and found that the upfront, yet sensitive (and often hilarious) ways the show approached topics eliminated most of the awkwardness.
Read more: In Defence of the Most Controversial Break-Up in ‘Sex Education’
Bayu Prihandito, a psychologist and life coach at Life Architekture, agrees that the show has a universal appeal beyond age. “It’s not just about some teenager fears or high school drama; it is about the complexities of relationships, self-acceptance, and the ongoing journey of learning about oneself and others.”
Yes, a lot of the show is about sex and all the physical things that come with it. (“She touched my eyebrows, and now I have an erection”). However, Prihandito also highlights how Sex Education, crucially, focuses on the emotional landscape that comes with sexual experiences.
“Let’s take Otis and Maeve, for example. They aren’t just navigating physical relationships; they are also struggling with emotional baggage, societal expectations, and personal insecurities. This emotional depth adds a layer of realism which is often missing in other portrayals of what is a teenager’s sexuality,” says Prihandito.
Realistic portrayals of sex
Flynn also praises Sex Education‘s inclusion of the moments leading up to and following sex. “There will be scenes around them using condoms. When you watch other shows and films, you see them get to the sex bit, but you don’t really ever see them discussing things like the condoms or putting on the condoms.” She adds: “I don’t think any show shows the vulnerability that Sex Education does.”
From a sexual health perspective, Flynn says Mooredale’s chlamydia outbreak was a storyline that stuck with her. “It managed to address the lack of education within the school system, and I think someone ended up taking the lead and trying to implement more education into the school. What was funny with that episode is it just showed how sometimes misinformation spreads quicker than STIs.” She adds: “It showed the main things: panic, misinformation, shaming. The anxiety that is associated with perhaps thinking you have an STI, and also the impact misinformation can have on people.”
An antithesis of traditional sex education programmes
Prihandito stresses that Sex Education has gone beyond just entertainment and has addressed a gap presented by classrooms and traditional sex programs in its ability to be engaging and relatable. “The show’s brilliance lies in its ability to weave complex issues, like consent, LGBTQ+ relationships, female pleasure into storylines that resonate with many people.”
Not only does it recognise the flawed nature of formal sex education systems, but it also acts as a source of knowledge and advice in a relatable, inclusive way. In season three, for instance, we see the students split by gender to attend respective SRE classes. The classes are outdated, and both focus on deep-rooted, binary gender stereotypes of sex (women being scared of sex by graphic video of a woman giving birth because sex is just for procreation, blah blah). Cal and Layla, who are non-binary, also have their identities questioned by the antiquated class arrangement. Through their storylines and character development in this episode and beyond, the show crucially leaves time and space to portray the nuances of navigating gender identity.
Reflecting on her time at school (which really was not very long ago) Flynn says: “I remember my class was naughty during the science lesson, so as punishment, we weren’t allowed to have [our sex education lesson]. Even though there is hardly any, we missed one for being naughty. We weren’t allowed our sex education lesson.” Sex education as a luxury rather than a necessity is something we see reflected in the very premise of the show. Students are literally paying Otis to impart any wisdom he can. With no qualifications (bar his mum being a sex therapist), he is making bank from giving them advice from the safety of an asbestos-infested toilet cuticle.
The queen that is Jean Milburn
Talking of Otis’s mum (Gillian Anderson was made for this role), it is only right to at least touch on how brilliant her character is. Flynn says: “With the main character’s mum being a sex therapist — that opens and allows so much more room for discussion around sexual health, sexual wellbeing and the importance of it. So I think her being in the show is a real driver to open those kinds of conversations and discussions.”
Without giving any spoilers away, we get a lot more insight into Jean’s journey in the final season, and see her vulnerable in a way we haven’t yet seen before. It’s an important development because while she is this source of wisdom in the show, it does not mean she is immune to the feelings she often “therapises” on.
A lasting legacy?
One of the reasons I think Sex Education resonated with Flat D32 on that day back in 2019 was because of how refreshing it was to see people being emotionally vulnerable with each other—about sex, but also about the general wild ride that is growing up.
For how much sex was supposedly going on at university, there was little talk on the emotional and practical sides of things. ‘Body counts’ and lad culture permeated most conversations around sex. I remember in my freshers week, on Whiteboard Night (where everyone wore white t-shirts and was armed with Sharpies), we were duly instructed to put our “magic number” on the backs of our white tops. You were “behind” if you didn’t have or want to talk about sexual experiences—but in the same breath, if you kissed two people in the space of a week, you would be seen as promiscuous.
In Sex Education, however, audiences have seen real-world narratives like this be broken down bit by bit, with characters’ journeys confirming their own feelings as valid, rational, and valued. While other shows have touched on some of the topics the show has delved into, I would say there hasn’t been one quite yet which has done so with the skill, sensitivity, and inclusivity that Sex Education has. It has explored topics such as abortion, HIV, vaginismus, asexuality, consent, queer identity, religion and grief, in a way where nothing is glossed over nor sensationalised. It’s complex yet logical, nuanced yet simple, and hilarious yet raw.
Prihandito says: “Sex Education has shown how you can confront issues head-on but still with a high level of emotional intelligence, which is quite rare in today’s mainstream media. Future dramas could benefit from this balanced approach: be bold in addressing difficult subjects, but also be emotionally nuanced to ensure the message is not just heard but also deeply felt.”
So, while it is sad to say goodbye to so many iconic characters — with whom we have shared some very, er, intimate memories, it is fair to say the show has left a lasting legacy on how we see sex and all its intersections portrayed on our screens.
The cast and creators knew it was the end, which I think was important. Some viewers have expressed disappointment about the show compared to previous seasons, but I would argue that it fulfilled the job of saying goodbye to the characters. After all, they were different people to who they were when the show began. Endings are often very different to beginnings, and goodbyes are not always as easy.
We see unresolved feelings and storylines tied up in sensitive, satisfying, and non-sensationalising ways. The idiosyncratic Sex Education humour also remains throughout.
Get the popcorn out. It’s an emotional one.
Season four of Sex Education is now streaming on Netflix.
Words by Hannah Bradfield
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