Sex Education (2019–2023) is a British teen comedy that follows Otis Milburn (played by Asa Butterfield), a socially awkward high school student who, despite his own lack of sexual experience, begins offering sex advice to his classmates at Mooredale Academy. He opens a sex clinic at the school, gathering most of his knowledge from his mother, professional sex therapist Jean Milburn (Gillian Anderson).
With the help of the school outcast Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey) and his upbeat, quirky friend Eric Effiong (Ncuti Gatwa), Otis navigates the ups and downs of teenage life, social circles, and relationships. Packed with humor, relatable moments, and important lessons, Sex Education makes for a great watch, particularly for older teens and young adults.
SPOILER warning! We’re about to get into key plot points. If you’re new to the Unicorn Scale, take a look at our guide to see how it works. You’ll also find this series in our Bi Media section.
Sex Education features a lot of LGBT representation, including three bi characters: Ola Nyman (Patricia Allison), Adam Groff (Connor Swindells), and Lily Iglehart (Tanya Reynolds), each of whom has a unique pathway to discovering their bisexuality. Adam’s struggle with internalized homophobia is raw, intense, and familiar to many gay and bi viewers. Throughout four seasons, his process of self-acceptance is a wonderful arc to watch unfold. Ola’s bisexuality, by contrast, is portrayed as less of a struggle and more of an innate characteristic — and one that she readily accepts. Meanwhile, Lily’s initial confusion and subsequent embrace of her bisexuality demonstrate an experience between Adam’s and Ola’s, which comes off as both relatable and sincere. It’s refreshing and rare to see multiple bi characters, each with their own separate bi storylines.
What I liked:
For starters, Sex Education is very diverse, not only in terms of race, ethnicity, size, sexuality, etc., but also with fascinating and detailed character backstories that often cause the viewer to question their own preconceived notions — from the puritanical and studious Vivienne ‘Viv’ Odusanya (Chinenye Ezeudu) to the pot-smoking dad with multiple sclerosis, Roland Matthews (David Layde). The show also immerses the viewer in a variety of cultures. Just to name a couple, Olivia’s (Simone Ashley) showcasing of traditional Indian dancing and Eric’s visit to Nigeria, where homosexuality is illegal, offer glimpses into walks of life most Western television never touches.
Of course, one of the standout facets of Sex Education is its remarkable bi representation. The show thoughtfully includes both male and female bi characters, portraying them with developed histories and believable yet unexpected story arcs that are often lacking in mainstream media. This representation is crucial, as bisexuality is frequently misunderstood or misrepresented.
Ola is a cool, modern character with a sarcastic tone and witty retorts. She discovers her bisexuality by taking an online quiz. As she’s taking it, she says, “Do you notice guys or girls? Both, I thought everyone did.” She knew she was bi, but didn’t have the right language for it until that moment, something I think many of us can relate to. I also appreciate that Ola’s bisexuality doesn’t become her whole life-defining identity after that moment, but rather just a part of her multi-dimensional character.
Adam offers a different male bi perspective. Though his initial story arc is a bit played out at first, it’s cathartic to watch his evolution into a confident young bi man. In the first season, Adam is a bully who targets Eric, an openly gay character. Throughout the series, Adam slowly comes full circle to both grow as a person and accept his bisexuality. In Season 2, he publicly declares his love for Eric, and they begin dating, but in Season 3, he reacts with aggressive anger toward anyone who teases him about his sexual orientation. This, and Adam’s reticence to open up to his parents, creates tensions between Adam and Eric, ultimately leading to their breakup. In Season 4, Adam comes out to his father, saying, “Also, I’m not gay, I’m bisexual.” His father, who underwent his own transformation from rigid to remorseful, responds encouragingly, saying, “They say Alexander the Great may have been bisexual.” The scene was not only poignant but therapeutic for those of us who may not have accepting parents.
Finally, Lily is an eccentric and imaginative girl with a passion for writing and illustrating erotic alien fiction. I identified with Lily the most because of her imaginative nature and interesting niche hobbies. When she discovers that she may be bi, she’s a bit confused, but then accepts and fully embraces it, which, again, mirrors my own bi experience.
By including this three-pronged, true-to-life view of bisexuality, Sex Education breaks away from the stereotypes and clichés that often plague bi representation in pop culture. The show portrays bisexuality with the respect and complexity it deserves.
What I didn’t like:
In Season 1 of Sex Education, I was concerned about the portrayal of Eric and Adam. Eric came across as the stereotypical overly feminine campy gay character, and Adam seemed like the cliché bully whose aggression was tied to his own insecurity and repressed same-sex attractions. It felt totally predictable and without depth — the same kind of stuff we’ve all seen a thousand times. If I’d stopped watching after the first season, I’d have been left feeling dissatisfied with the show. I’m glad I stuck with it.
As the series progressed into Seasons 2 and 3, both characters underwent significant development. Adam evolved from a one-dimensional bully into a more nuanced, likeable, and complex character. Eric didn’t remain a chipper, overly feminine caricature and had interesting ups and downs of his own. He even punched another character at one point, showing a different side of himself.
Season 4 was a mixed bag for me. Mooredale Academy shuts down, and the cast moves to Cavendish Sixth Form College, a modern school with chic décor and new technologies. I couldn’t tell if the fourth season was criticizing certain progressive dogmas or exalting them. It felt occasionally “woke”, and my feelings about the season are still somewhat ambivalent. However, any media can evoke feelings of duality, and often, good media does. It doesn’t change my appreciation for the show.
The Rating:
As far as bi representation goes, I give Sex Education the maximum possible score: four unicorns.
