In this op-ed, Darshita Goyal takes on the politically correct bully, a trend depicted in Sex Education season four.
The final season of Sex Education, Netflix's uber-popular teen comedy, opens in a state of utopia. The Moordale gang start sixth form (British for eleventh grade) at a shiny new school: Cavendish College. Imagine a hyper diverse Gen Z wellness space meets Goop-era luxury, but in a school. Let's paint a picture: A massive slide runs through the center of the open plan building that is home to a meditation room, silent discos, sound baths and free speech corners. The college is wholly student led – students who use reusable Cavendish totes and water bottles also clean, garden, and host fundraisers.
At Cavendish, the cool kids are queer and call themselves The Coven: a group of yoga-doing, glitter-makeup-wearing teens whose brand is kindness and compassion. In the glorious words of Eric Effiong (Ncuti Gatwa) and Otis Milburn (Asa Butterfield) their new school is "like Amsterdam…but in space." At first look, Cavendish seems like the kind of progressive space that so many of us want: where no one is left out, social justice matters, and kindness comes first. Alas, like most good things in life, this inclusive pipedream quickly crashes to a halt. As the series progresses, viewers learn that the fancy school's lift is almost always broken, leaving little space for accessibility, and no one practices sign language despite having students with hearing impairments.
These are only a few of many broken promises of the supposedly inclusive space. Turns out, this perfect-on-the-outside, messy-on-the-inside trend shapes the new characters as well. The Cavendish gang represent a fresh Gen Z trope that we see all around us but often struggle to make sense of: The politically aware bully.
Cavendish College, like many progressive spaces, is full of young people who are fluent in the language of therapy speak and prioritize awareness above all else, but who rarely follow through on their promises. Instead, they use their knowledge of words that sound progressive to establish hierarchy and control.
Let's look at Abbi (Anthony Lexa), the unsaid leader of The Coven who claims that Cavendish is a gossip-free zone. She carries a "no gossip" jar and makes people pay a fine every time they are caught saying something bad about someone behind their back. Perhaps in theory, this appears impressive. But in reality, Abbi uses this act to assert a holier-than-thou dominance over the people around her.
In one scene, Abbi expresses her distaste for Moordale's OG mean girl Ruby Matthews (Mimi Keene) and says, "That girl's energy is so draining." When Aisha (Alexandra James) places the no gossip jar before Abbi, she shrugs it off aggressively and argues that what she said was a "fact" and not “gossip.” Clearly, Abbi bends the rules to serve herself. In an earlier scene, The Coven calls Ruby out for sitting in Abbi's spot – classic cliquey mean girl behavior. When Ruby asks if she could join them at the table, Abbi ignores the question and instead asks if Ruby would swap out her car for a bike to be more environmentally friendly.
In saying this, Abbi subtly signals at the difference in their values and why Ruby isn't welcome at their table without using any harsh language. Although Abbi speaks with saccharine kindness, full of toothy smiles and welcoming hand gestures, the interaction is passive aggressive. It seems clear that Abbi looks down on Ruby for not performing the values Abbi deems appropriate, but she never explicitly says as much. In fact, as an observer, you may miss the micro aggression if you blink too soon. Of course, a world in which queer and trans students are the popular ones, and even in which they get to be the bullies, is some sort of an ideal future. It signals a time when being LGBTQ isn't a marginalizing factor. But, an even better future would be one in which we didn't bully each other for anything, instead opting to actually practice the acceptance we call for. This trend forms the framework of a covert bully — and it’s not reserved for the screen.
Akane Kanai, a lecturer at Monash University who co-authored an academic paper on wokeness in digital culture, defines a politically correct bully as, "someone who never questions their own right to enforce the politically correct rules." Like Abbi, this kind of bully is someone who uses what many can agree upon as important values (protecting the environment is crucial) to shame people for their everyday choices. Instead of trying to create meaningful change, people like Abbi might use their supposedly pristine ideals as a weapon to hold power over others who aren’t as green, who use the wrong word, who aren’t as educated, and so on.
deandre miles-hercules – a Ph.D student at the University of California, Santa Barbara, who researches how language use and identity – associates the rise of politically aware bullies to the increasing need to outwardly reflect your social values. This means that some people might say the “right” thing without having the right intent behind it, just to keep up appearances.
"Being up-to-date on politically correct language is really a young person’s game and, in some circles, there can be a positive correlation between how current one is with those linguistic developments and how cool they are seen as by others whose opinions they value highly," miles-hercules explains. Some might achieve this through using therapy speak — the use of vague psychological language in day to day conversations, often incorrectly (think: “I'm so triggered by that”) — while others might make snide remarks (a la Abbi's bike comment) or shame others who might not be totally “with it” politically.
Of course, being politically conscious is important, and part of that is speaking with care about certain issues and communities. And, calling on our friends to engage in our politics can be part of building community. There’s no issue with doing these things, having conversations about our values, and even using therapy speak in our daily conversations. The issue arises when we weaponize these values to make ourselves seem better, or more morally just, than another. And it compounds when these values become a hollow way to make ourselves seem like someone we may not be at all. miles-hercules provides a helpful way to think about the difference between wanting to sound politically conscious, and actually being politically conscious:
“When thinking about expressions of political correctness, it is important to actively derive import and intent. If someone is calling another person out for engaging in toxic or harmful behavior, ask yourself to what end might they be doing so,” miles-hercules says. “Is it merely posturing, also known as virtue signaling? Or, is the person doing the calling out actively engaging with the person to understand their perspective, explain how it could be harmful to others, and encourage better behavior in the future?”
We see this need to be accepted and celebrated for their compassion in another Cavendish character's persona as well. O (Thaddea Graham), the student sex therapist, is widely beloved for helping people work through the problems in their relationships. Only later is it revealed that O has a history of ghosting her partners and that she also bullied Ruby when they were younger. Surely, a teenager shouldn't be punished for a mistake they made as a child. But, O refuses to accept any wrongdoing, even gaslighting Ruby by implying that Ruby's aggression was motivated by latent feelings for Otis. When O's behavior is finally exposed publicly, she releases a seemingly earnest but blanket apology video, addressing her clients, friends, and "everyone that she hurt," without directly acknowledging Ruby or her feelings. In many ways, O uses her expertise in therapy speak to obfuscate further discussion and shift the blame.
Gabrielle Giachin, LMSW, a New York-based CBT therapist and social worker, explains why this is harmful: "If you’re using therapy speak, it should come from a place of empathy and a desire to understand, i.e. the way it was intended to be used. If you’re using it to speak down to others or make them feel less than, without the intention of teaching and including, you’re just using fancy language to say you’re better than someone else, and that’s the opposite of therapeutic."
As the season progresses, viewers learn that both Abbi and O's excessive reliance on therapy speak is influenced by their own fears of rejection. In fact, it is possible that their need to be consistently politically correct arises from feeling misunderstood by others in their individual gender and sexual identities. When Abbi said she was scared to be alone, or O revealed how insecure she is in her asexuality and accent, it's difficult not to empathize with them, despite their covert bullying. But the point isn't to vilify these characters.
In reality, a lot of us are likely guilty of using politically conscious language to assert dominance. Social media has made the use of these terms so commonplace that it's now a part of everyday vernacular (think of a time you said someone was gaslighting you). And very often, people succumb to weaponizing therapy speak without being fully aware of it. Identifying these characters as politically correct bullies isn’t just calling them out, it’s — to borrow a phrase — calling all of us in.
Being socially conscious is, ultimately, a good thing. We should be aware of the language we use, the actions we take, and how we impact those around us — particularly those who are marginalized. But social consciousness isn’t a weapon, and it doesn’t make some of us better than others. Being truly inclusive means leading with kindness and an open mind, not passing judgment on our differences. And, if you're trying to determine the difference between sounding right and acting right, miles-hercules has some wisdom:
“There is an African American proverb that highlights this distinction,” miles-hercules says. "It goes, ‘Don’t talk about it. Be about it.’”
