Bonded by trauma: A special episode of Sex Education

In the seventh episode of Sex Education season 2, Aimee, Maeve, and many of the characters come together over shared trauma.

Netflix’s Sex Education has been a raging hit across all demographics. The second season, which dropped on Jan. 17, 2020, more than upheld the promise of the first season.

Shows about teenagers are resplendent with glitz and glamour, with their perfect coifs and runway model outfits, not a zit in sight, and they have crazy lives and wild sex. Sex Education separates itself by taking the glamour out of the equation, for the most part. Instead, the teens are as gangly and awkward as all of us remember being as real teenagers are.

It’s difficult enough to maneuver the intricacies of romance and heartbreak, without awkward and embarrassing moments, the discovery of identity and sexuality, and the myriad insecurities that are teenage.

The seventh episode of Sex Education season 2 transcends in a season of eloquent, seamless stories and fulfilling arcs. Nuanced handling of a heavy subject like sexual assault and trauma is empathetic without being preachy, playful without being flippant.

While the other main characters have adventures of their own, the girls land in detention. Scrawled on the bathroom mirror in lipstick, is Miss Sands’ name and derogatory comments, which is a perfect set-up for a lecture on the importance of female solidarity. You never bring down one of your own.

She challenges them all, a’la The Breakfast Club. This hand-picked group is a representation of every highschool clique stereotype; the nerd, the cheerleader, the weird one, the outcast, different skin tones, different body types. What is it that ties them all together? That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? The “get out of jail free card,” so to speak.

The usual clichés are discussed and discarded, including makeup, shopping, and boys. They have to delve deeper because there is always the one outlier, the one who won’t conform.

Maeve and Ola hash it out over Otis, and they make snide remarks. The jealousy is a mix of feelings for Otis and rivalry. They eventually acknowledge this and apologize to each other. We should all be so gracious in our resentment and envy.

As the tension and bickering reach a crescendo, Aimee bursts out: “I can’t get on the bus!”

An episode or two ago, Aimee had a traumatic encounter on the bus. It’s Maeve’s birthday, and being the generous friend that she is, she decides to bake her a cake. Loaded with her iced-good intentions, she boards the bus, hoping to surprise Maeve. A random stranger standing behind her assaults her. She tells Maeve the story in passing, who immediately realizes the gravity of the situation and takes her to the police station to report the incident.

Aimee tries to brush it off like it’s not a big deal, but in the days that follow, she experiences anxiety. Too scared to get on the bus, she opts to walk all the way to school. She starts to detest physical contact with her boyfriend, Steve, wonderful Steve. She sees her perpetrator’s face everywhere, and it makes her go rigid with panic.

The episode was chockfull of crucial takeaways regarding sexual assault and trauma and how to deal. No trauma is too small. Any violation of your personal space, your body or your consent is traumatic. It might not register as such right away, and Aimee tried to suppress her revulsion, but on a subconscious level, it affected her deeply, even if it took a while to manifest. The after-effects of trauma can be latent. The conscious mind can suppress memories for months or even years.

Your trauma may render you unable to perform certain tasks. The course of action for loved ones should always be gentle empathy. Rather than ridiculing someone for their inability to do something rudimentary, a “Let’s do it together” would be a more empathetic and effective approach.

Punishing a victim for a crime committed against their person is a double violation. Victim blaming by criticizing their choice of clothing, the choice to be in a certain area at a certain time of day, or the choice to drink, puts the burden on the victim who has already gone through a terrible experience.

Viv’s mother forbade her from going swimming to the local pool because as a child, a grown man had flashed her. This sort of knee-jerk reaction makes sexual abuse victims, especially children, wary of openly discussing abuse instances with their parents.

“It’s sad because the pool was my favorite place to go” is a heartbreaking reminder of how, as a protective and preventive tactic, parents often end up punishing their own kids.

As Aimee’s story unfolds further, she reveals that the trigger for her panic was his ordinariness. There wasn’t anything inherently evil-looking about him, no devil horns, no scowl. His ability to blend into the crowd meant that any man in any crowd could be a molester. There’s no getting away, nowhere you can feel completely safe.

Ola’s harrowing tale is about being followed home by a man one day. He matched her pace for pace, would speed up when she sped up, slow down when she did. Until she reached her house and her dad came out. Seeing another man, the guy ran away. It’s a frustrating realization that the only way for a woman to feel safe is through the protection of another man.

A woman will have to mention a boyfriend or husband, give proof of being ‘taken’, for sleazy men to stop hitting on her. A simple ‘no’ isn’t good enough. The only thing that registers is the threat of a male, a father, brother, husband, lover or friend.

The girls take a detour on their way home, and it was cathartic to watch the ladies just go for it, as they smashed the car, various bottles,  and ceramic vases to smithereens with their baseball bats. Girls aren’t fragile, porcelain dolls that need to be handled with care. Sometimes the only way for the rage to dissipate is to smash everything in sight and let out a primal scream.

They deliberate on the cause of men’s desire to make women uncomfortable, violating both personal space and consent.“I think it’s about power” is the takeaway.

It’s almost always linked to power dynamics and malicious enjoyment of the fear, panic, and disgust their actions incite.

Almost every woman has gone through harassment in some form or the other. It’s never invited, yet it invariably happens. In public spaces, in private, online and offline. Women need to join together in solidarity.

The episode ends with the girls awaiting Aimee at the bus stop, and they board the bus together, in one of the most wholesome depictions of female friendship and empowerment I’ve ever seen. Not ineffective lip service, but a literal depiction of “stronger together,” what uplifting each other really means. Sometimes it’s our shared trauma that brings us together.

There have been talks for a possible third season of the show, which is good news for all of us. In the meantime, we can binge-watch the first two seasons again while we practice social distancing.