Sex Education has come to an end with season 4, but its legacy of demystifying sex one storyline at a time lives on.
When Sex Education first burst onto our screens in 2019, it created conversations that explored sex in a way that was at once clinical, but also heavily contextual for each individual, further highlighting how necessary it is for young people to have access to good quality sex education. The series, which dropped its final season on Netflix today, stars Asa Butterfield as Otis Milburn, the proclaimed “sex king” who gives students sex advice, and Gillian Anderson as his mother, Jean Milburn, a renowned sex therapist. The show has drawn vivid characters and relationships that sit at the very heart of the show. To this day, there is nothing quite like seeing Otis and Eric (Ncuti Gatwa) embrace, and enjoy their love for each other as friends, or Jean and Otis fight but ultimately come together again.
A news article in season 3 quotes Jean as saying, “After spending a length of time on the Moordale campus, I realized there is a battle happening for the emotional and sexual health of our teenagers.” She’s right, of course. In the U.S., health care is perpetually at risk, with the overturning of Roe v. Wade; Florida’s Don’t Say Gay bill; the targeting of gender-affirming care — and that’s even before piss-poor standards of sex education come into play.
With this in mind, it’s a big deal that throughout its four seasons, Sex Education has opened the scope of television to encompass (or at least try to) the kaleidoscope of experiences in the world. Where else could we hope to find Gillian Anderson waxing lyrical about creating a safe space, or Ncuti Gatwa’s Eric Effiong throat a banana at a party and turn the phrase “you detty pig” into a meme? Where else would we watch as Otis jabs his fingers into an orange in front of a horrified lesbian? Remember, “every orange is different.” It’s inspired discussions about sexuality, gender identity, disability, addiction, and more.
Below, as we say farewell to Moordale and its pre-title sequences that, um, thrust us right into the action, find a list of memorable moments and lessons learned from Sex Education. Warning: Season 4 spoilers ahead.
Maeve’s abortion (Season 1)
Revisiting this moment for the purpose of compiling this list could never not be deeply underscored by the post-Roe landscape, in which U.S. teens might have to travel out of state in order to receive this critical healthcare. This U.K. show’s approach to abortion care with a pragmatist like Maeve was fascinating; it’s not heavily dramatized, and it’s not this hugely integral part of her existence, she just gets on with it.
Emma Mackey, who plays Maeve, told Teen Vogue in 2019 that “…it’s educational at the end of the day, and it demystifies it. It makes it not taboo. You go through the process with Maeve. You see what she does, the appointment she has to have, what she has to go through.” The stuff with Sarah, another patient at the clinic, is a wonderful connection, too.
“It’s my vagina” (Season 1)
We can’t forget this iconic scene in the school hall. When a picture of her vulva is spread among the students, Ruby (Mimi Keene) enlists Otis and Maeve to figure out who’s holding her to ransom. Spoiler alert, it was Olivia (Simone Ashley). At the assembly, Headmaster Groff warns the school that disseminating such content could result in legal action. Olivia stands up and takes the fall, claiming that it’s her vagina in the photo, setting off a domino effect of claims; Maeve, then Aimee (Groff: “It cannot be all your vaginas”), even Jackson (Groff: “You do not have a vagina in the same way that I do not have a vagina.”). And then right at the very end, Ruby is on her feet, powerful, claiming that “It’s my vagina,” because all bodies are different, which means not all vulvas are the same, and she has nothing to be ashamed about.
Eric and his dad (Season 1)
Here, as Eric attends the school dance, we learn that when his father first came to the U.K., he did everything in his power to fit in, and he never wanted that life for Eric. This is a father feeling the fear of having a son who is different (and look how fabulous Eric is styled in this moment, he’s the word “different” but in italics), and doing the right thing anyway. Because Eric is right. His dad’s fear does nothing for Eric, and in this unjust world, Eric’s difference will make him a targeted outlier. “Maybe I am learning from my brave son,” his father says. And if there’s anything Eric knows to be true, he can’t hide his light under a bushel.
“It’s just a stupid bus” (Season 2)
In a staunch show of female solidarity, the girls take the bus with Aimee (Aimee Lou Wood) following her sexual assault so she doesn’t have to take that first step alone. While the moment itself actually takes up such a small amount of screen time, it’s a culmination of everything that came before. Earlier, the girls recount the times they’ve been assaulted by men or felt unsafe — stalking, slut-shaming, groping — and later, they express their rage by sledgehammering the hell out of the junkyard. But what this moment of unity on the bus gives is something remarkable, even if a bit wishful amongst the bleak reality — a tinge of hope, and a f*ck you to anyone who dares to rob them of feeling safe.
Florence learns about asexuality (Season 2)
When Florence is cast opposite Jackson in Lily’s Glenoxi-aesthetic sex revamp of Romeo and Juliet, she has a session with Jean to address the fact that she doesn’t want to have sex. “I think I might be broken,” she says, that it feels like she’s “surrounded by a huge feast with everything I could want to eat, but I’m not hungry.” The true joy is in Florence learning about asexuality. Seeing that register, to know that what you’re feeling is valid, normal. And Jean comes in with a banger of a line: “Sex doesn’t make us whole,” she says. “And so how could you ever be broken?”
Jackson comes clean to Viv (Season 2)
Fighting off a panic attack at Otis’s house party, Jackson tries to hurt himself again when Viv walks in. He admits to her that he injured his hand in the gym on purpose, knowing it would take him out of swimming for a while. He’s been on anxiety medication since he was young, and he just needed the pressure to stop. But then Viv stands behind him, leans on his back, and gently tells him that he can’t keep hurting himself. Despite the fact that Jackson calls her a robot just seconds later, it’s one of the most precious scenes of friendship in the show.
Isaac and Maeve's intimate scene (Season 3)
As Isaac and Maeve grow closer, they share a moment of intimacy. Isaac, a physically disabled young man, guides Maeve across his chest until he can feel her touch, before moving into kissing. Maeve asks permission to take off Isaac’s shirt, and he asks where she likes to be touched.
There’s a really healthy negotiation of their interaction throughout the scene. The writer duo known as The Triple Cripples wrote about it in gal-dem: “This scene does away with the societal expectation of disabled people constantly contorting themselves to fit non-disabled people’s rigid and unforgiving rules of engagement.” It’s one of the show’s standout moments of intimacy, and it’s one of the few examples on TV of disabled people expressing their sexuality. Read more from In Session: The Teen Vogue Lesson Plan, here.
Maeve and Otis at the gas station (Season 3)
The love story that’s been brewing since the very first season took another turn in season 3, when the school bus left Maeve and Otis behind at a gas station. Here, the two characters that the narrative kept apart for over a season finally met in the middle. And what’s better than a love confession over voicemail? Getting that love declaration in person. And that kiss …
Eric in Lagos, Nigeria (S3)
Eric mutes himself upon his family trip to a wedding in Nigeria, where it’s illegal to be gay. When he follows Oba, Eric doesn’t immediately catch on to the subtle homophobia of the taxi driver, who clocks them and their destination. But then he finds the underground Nigerian queer scene, where the gays are vibrant and thriving. Nigeria-based writer Vincent Desmond wrote about this storyline in British GQ, including the treatment of what it means to be LGBTQIA+ in Nigeria. There’s something profoundly liberating in being your full, queer self within the bounds of your culture, especially as a diaspora kid, or even someone not fully immersed in that world. The intersections are beautiful.
Michael stands up to his brother (S3)
Witnessing Michael Groff’s journey from uptight headmaster to finally opening up to the spice of life is one of the highlights of this series, and one thing Sex Education has done particularly well is fleshing out the world of its grownup characters. When Michael prepares a salad with all the right flavor profiles for a dinner party, his brother Peter can’t resist punching down. We can track the cycle of toxic masculinity from their father’s poor modeling of what a man should be, and follow it right through to Michael raising Adam. But Michael’s had enough. He won’t let Peter bully him anymore.
“F*ck the Pain Away” (S3)
This Moordale choir performance of Peaches’s “F*ck the Pain Away” lives in my mind rent free. New headteacher Hope took an insidious approach to changing the school’s reputation as Sex School, and as expected, it all came crashing down. Nothing unites a group of cliquey teens like a teacher that’s branded themselves an enemy; Ruby wasted her good perfume spraying Hope in the face and Cal flipped her off with both hands. Seriously, rewatch the performance. It slaps.
Layla’s binder (Season 3)
Nonbinary student Layla starts out wrapping bandages around their chest with a safety pin, tight. Their skin is already scratched up, but the binding isn’t good enough. It needs to be tighter, they say. Cal later recounts how they used to use ACE bandages to bind their own chest, which can cause broken ribs and restricts breathing. But now, Layla’s wearing a proper binder, designed for safe chest compression. And the look on Layla’s face when they see themselves in the mirror is something that money can’t buy. Euphoria.
Warning: Season 4 spoilers ahead.
Erin’s funeral (Season 4)
We’ll never forget the absolute chaos that was the funeral for Maeve’s mum, Erin. The rendition of U2’s “With or Without You” will never not bring tears. At the heart of it though, beyond Sean’s contempt for their mum, is Maeve’s eulogy. She hates her mother for what she put them through, but she misses her, too. Because having a mum that’s an addict means you still have a mum. As an audience, we’ve seen some of Erin’s struggles. That push and pull, in and out of recovery. In some ways, we feel Maeve’s loss as our own, because we’ve known how hard Erin loved, and how hard she could fall.
An accessibility protest (Season 4)
The students at Cavendish rally around Isaac and Aisha, who protest the school’s lack of accessibility planning by camping out in the middle of campus. As Isaac rightly points out, for a school that can afford all manner of fancy additions, there’s a disturbing lack of resourcing for wheelchair-friendly spaces (namely a functioning elevator, which is literally crucial for Isaac to attend classes) and the fact that Aisha, who is deaf, was left behind when the fire alarm sounded. It was a no-brainer then, for the able-bodied students to use people power to make the powers-that-be pay attention.
Adam and Michael's moving hug (Season 4)
The Groff men, father and son who have been at odds since the very beginning, took the first steps toward reconciliation. With their respective growth — Michael relinquishing his rigid ways, Adam gaining more worldly experience — they can see each other plain. Michael admits that he loves Adam, but he’s never liked himself. The pair share a hug; Michael’s hand cups the back of Adam’s head, holding him close, like parents do. It’s immensely satisfying to see this resolution for them. Plus, watching Michael ride a horse was an unexpected delight.
“My name is Eric Effiong…” (Season 4)
“...And I’m a Christian, and a proud gay man.” Running through Eric’s complete series arc like a backbone is this contention between his two worlds — who he is at church, and who he is everywhere else. It starts in the clothing, the conservative style versus the shimmer and sparkle. But then it infiltrates the ways you act, how you tone yourself down, dim your light — but as we know, that’s not Eric’s thing. Though the church denies him, Eric later meets God, who inspires within him a new mission. “You will change hearts and minds, and let everyone know that I love them for who they are,” God tells him. “I made you this bright so that others would see in the darkness.”
Jean and her sister on a podcast (Season 4)
Jean’s sister Joanna calls her podcast and opens up about the abuse she survived as a 12-year-old by one of their mother’s friends. Joanna testifies to just how much that affects a person and their behavior, all these years later. For a show that’s explored the delights of consensual sex and the impacts of sexual assault, this acknowledgement of childhood abuse was truly sobering to watch. And then you add on Jean’s admission that she’s been diagnosed with postnatal depression, imparting some of her most potent advice: “Just saying it out loud is really the first step to getting help.”
Aimee burns the jeans (Season 4)
What a joy it’s been to watch Aimee grow over the course of this show. She has such a unique way of seeing the world and interacting with it. We felt a surge of pride when she realized what she wants her photographs to say, and especially her photoset at the bus stop; the burning of the jeans that held her like shackles, reclaiming her power.
Otis reads Maeve’s letter (Season 4)
At the very end of the series, Otis reads the letter from Maeve, and it takes us back to the very first episode. How they set up the clinic, a true partnership, and everything that followed. The girl who found it difficult to open up, and the boy who made her want to. “Meeting you cracked my heart open, and now it’s forever changed,” she says. Maeve once wrote that she wanted to live in a house with big windows. Now studying abroad, with the world at her fingertips, we see her staring out at the night sky, from her room with big windows. Maeve has done what she always wanted to do. She got out.
