Sex Education is back and I for one am here for the spice, the bizarre decor and of course, the all-too-familiar relationship chaos. I’ve loved every season of the show and the latest one has not disappointed. I mean, we’ve had corn-on-the-cob dildos, unbridled queer joy, spiritual apparitions and sound baths on the school curriculum – what’s not to love?
But for all its joyful moments, Season 4 has also been a very hard watch. I’ve cried my eyes out more than once watching my favourite characters navigate the painful experience of moving through the world as teenagers, coming to terms with their identities and sexualities in the crucible of a timeless provincial town. But in every season, including this one, I relate to one character more than any of the others, and that character is Aimee Gibbs.
I saw a tweet about Aimee yesterday, it said: “Aimee is the kind of girl who would carry tampons and liners around even if she wasn’t on her period, just to make sure everyone else was okay.” She’s a total sweetie, the kind of person who seems like she shouldn’t have a care in the world. She rocks exceptional outfits, opts to ride a bike to school because a family of squirrels have moved into her car and she bakes cupcakes that look like vulvas. At 17 years old, she’s a gas. Which is why it was so heartbreaking when Season 3 saw her paralysed by fear and anxiety after being sexually assaulted. The world would never be the same again for sweet Aimee.
This season begins on a joyful note for her, though – she’s on a healing journey. She’s using sex toys, making new friends, getting into photography and journalling. It’s a big “yas queen” from me: a person who has also done a *lot* of self love work after similar experiences. Sexual trauma can literally rock your sense of who you are. It can strip you down to your most vulnerable state and leave you cringing like an exposed nerve in an acid rain gale.
This is why I was livid to see Aimee, trying so hard to heal, being catcalled in one of the latest episodes – and why her reaction (totally unhinged and totally justified IMO) felt so viscerally familiar. It wasn’t a big scene in the episode, it didn’t take up much space at all and it was barely discussed after the fact. But it was the one scene in the new season that really floored me.
It starts like this: Aimee’s just been to a funeral, she’s struggling with best friend and ex-boyfriend politics, she’s trying to be the best person she can be despite the pressure of mock exams and the memory of her assault following her around like a hungry dog. She talks about how it can still feel like she's wearing the jeans from the day of the assault, even when she's doing something she loves, like eating ice cream. I felt the tears welling in my eyes when she delivered that line. And again, after the funeral when she stops to take photos of some garden gnomes (one of the gnomes looks just like her Nanna) and the immortal words, “Oi oi, give us a smile” carry across the pavement.
“Just let her photograph the bastard gnomes!” I am muttering through gritted teeth at the TV, already emotionally rocked after the funeral scene. I know what’s coming. But the men across the street continue to do their thing: “Cheer up darling, it ain’t so bad”. And that’s it. That’s the moment Aimee loses her temper. And I can't say I blame her for a single second. Street-based harassment is literally a crime, and the last time I was catcalled after having a bad day I chased down a car in stilettos, in the rain, baying like a wolf. I was so unbelievably angry at being told to smile while the interior pain of the day I’d had boiled inside me. FYI, I did not catch the car.
Aimee Gibbs stands in the middle of the street and lets rip. “I’m not smiling because I’ve just been to a fucking funeral. I’m also not smiling because you’re fucking talking to me. You fucking fucks!” This is such a familiar scene, and feeling vulnerable after an assault can make you so angry when men do this. For so many reasons – but primarily it’s because this is all just a big joke to them. We’re a joke, our interior lives don’t matter. We’re fair game, because we’re outside, just waiting to be perceived and messed with by anyone who feels like it.
Aimee snaps a photo of the men who’ve shouted at her after one tosses her a “sorry for your loss.” And I liked that. I liked the act of her turning the gaze back on the three grown men – remember Aimee is in college but hey, as we all know, catcalling begins well before that – requesting smiles from her as though they’re owed. But the act of taking the photo also seemed to say: capture this moment, women aren’t taken seriously, you will always need proof.
One could argue that this little scene was pretty reductive. You’ve got your builder types in hi-vis throwing incredibly cliched phrases at a teenage girl. But you might also argue that the scene is just a fair representation of something that happens to women every day. Because it literally is every day, sometimes multiple times. And it’s never a man catcalling on his own. Catcalling is a social currency and a group activity. More often than not, it’s for the benefit of a witness, to show off to each other. And that makes you think, why is shouting at a woman, ignoring how vulnerable she might be feeling and wilfully bothering her a form of social clout?
In some ways the scene didn’t need to be that long or nuanced. It was enough. Because we all know the scene, we’ve all lived it. Bouncing from scenario to scenario like a pinball on a course lined with the same tired comments. And we’ve all endured it in our lowest and our most fragile moments. It’s a mundane, everyday occurrence that can make us feel a centimetre tall and rattled for the rest of the day, the week, however long it takes to grow big again. We’re all Aimee Gibbs some days. It just makes me angry that we should have to be.
Words by: Emilie Lavinia
*This story originally appeared on Cosmopolitan.com.uk. Minor edits have been made by Cosmo.ph editors.
