(This review contains spoilers)

The charm of Sex Education (2019) lies within each drastically unique character within it. 

It’s a feel-good show about the sex lives or, lack thereof, of British sixth formers. The series raises the question of what is considered taboo — the balance between matters that should be kept private and ones that should be spoken loudly. Whilst the show, at times, vastly exaggerated sexual activity in secondary schools, each episode holds a didactic tone that leads towards destigmatising speaking up on matters of the heart and body. 

As well as the show’s comedic and satirical elements and heartwarming messages, I most value the perception of womanhood and inclusivity the show evokes. Development lies at the heart of every character. When I think about my favourite female character on television, I think of Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey). Not only does she harbour a love for feminist literature as I do, but she sees the world vividly. She sees its bounds, its confinements behind windows. There are barriers that she tries to break but there’s so much beneath the surface. Maeve’s journey to success as a writer, despite family struggles working against her, serves as an inspiration, a role model to younger viewers. To say that Maeve Wiley is a complex character is palpable; combatting problems with trust and abandonment to achieve her goals whilst simultaneously letting new people in shows a strength of character — a depth I am not often attuned to. 

Many contemporary romances in popular culture aren’t inherently misogynistic, but don’t have female focused storylines. Female characters in romances don’t often go through the same elements of personal change that male characters might. Several tropes involve a man changing aspects of his life to fit a woman, but in Sex Education, meeting Aimee Gibbs (Aimee Lou Wood) was an influential milestone in Maeve’s relationship with herself. Aimee’s first impression was a typical popular girl you might find in school, playing the dumb blonde stereotype before challenging it. Aimee breaks away from this and befriends Maeve, opting for a friendship that is personal and kind, replacing the kind of superficiality Ruby, Olivia and Anwar offered her. After feeling discouraged by their maternal figures, Maeve and Aimee adopt motherly roles for one another, giving necessary advice to navigate their lives. A big part of Aimee’s storyline is her sexual assault which could, undeniably, mimic many women’s experiences. Victims might think to report it would be silly or dramatic. Or they might start to question, the way Aimee did, whether it was their fault. Aimee worries about her smile and outward kindness, questioning if she didn’t smile at him, would the stranger have treated her the way he had? Sex Education treads carefully with Aimee’s story, with Aimee Lou Wood winning ‘Best Female Actress in a Comedy Programme,’ delicately portraying all the potential setbacks that might emerge from nonconsensual acts, such as being unable to ride public transportation. Aimee goes on to experience trouble in her relationship with Steve and her own body. She turns from confidence to fear. Taking Aimee to the police station, Maeve sets an example for younger viewers. Nothing is too small to report. 

Season 2 Episode 7 ends with one of my favourite portrayals of female solidarity. Several of the female characters sit beside Aimee on the bus, and despite their differences and lack of common interest, they come together to help Aimee challenge her fears. Their support helps Aimee feel safe enough to revisit the site of her assault. 

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