In the third episode of Netflix’s No. 1 hit series, “Adolescence,” 13-year-old Jamie, the boy arrested on suspicion of murdering his classmate Katie with a kitchen knife, speaks with a clinical psychologist. The psychologist is pretty, dressed in a flattering blue chiffon blouse, and exudes a kind of feminine strength. Her appearance matters to Jamie. The episode underscores Jamie’s feelings of inadequacy, his desire for acceptance, his anger and, crucially, the way he views women in relation to himself.
Filmed, like each installment in the series, in one linear shot, the episode is a claustrophobic and gutting watch. In fact the entire four-part series, following Jamie, his family and the police as they attempt to understand what drove this child to violence, is a gripping, necessary lesson in modern day masculinity and the chilling realities young men today face.
Since “Adolescence” premiered on Netflix about three weeks ago, 96.7 million people around the world have streamed it.
Since “Adolescence” premiered on Netflix about three weeks ago, 96.7 million people around the world have streamed it. That number’s likely higher by now. “Adolescence” is the ninth most watched series of all time on Netflix, beating out the third season of the mega-popular “Stranger Things.” I watched it for the first time just a few days ago. I waited because, honestly, it just felt too heavy of a lift.
I’m married just over a year. My husband and I are beginning to talk about children, a family. Sometimes it’s a fun conversation — What would their names be? Would they inherent my husband’s musical abilities and his gentle stoicism? Would they like to read and write like me? — and sometimes it’s a scary, serious conversation. “Adolescence” sparked one such conversation. After watching it, I felt deeply fearful for my future children and for our society.
The show is an examination of how a confluence of typical factors — cyberbullying, an underfunded school, a lack of community or belonging, coming-of-age angst, an inability to communicate, and the deadly influence of the internet’s “manosphere” — can create an utterly broken and dangerous young man. In her book “The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity and Love,” crucial feminist and civil rights scholar bell hooks writes, “The first act of violence that patriarchy demands of all males is not violence toward women, instead patriarchy demands of all males that they engage in acts of psychic self-mutilation, that they kill off the emotional parts of themselves. If an individual is not successful in emotionally crippling himself, he can count on patriarchal men to enact rituals of power that will assault his self-esteem.”
Ultimately, “Adolescence” is a condemnation of patriarchy. For all the discussion around that word, there is a consistent frustrating and fundamental misunderstanding of what patriarchy is. The textbook definition, the social order that gives men a disproportionately larger share of social, economic and political power, doesn’t make it clear that it exists at the cost of both men and women. The patriarchy — this is critical — hurts men.
“Adolescence” also grapples with the dangerous and very real manosphere, the deeply misogynistic faction of the internet pioneered by the likes of self-proclaimed misogynist Andrew Tate. Users often enter the rabbit hole with tutorials on how to charm women, ultimately how to get women to have sex with them and how to be “masculine.” But the further you go, the more misogynistic the content becomes: from deeply regressive gender roles to violence and degradation against women. Fundamentally, the manosphere casts blame on women and feminism for the crisis of male loneliness. In one scene, Jamie brings up the so-called 80-20 rule to his therapist, an obviously incorrect concept that posits 80% of women are attracted to only the “top” 20% of men. The 80-20 rule allows men to, again, cast blame on women for their lack of romantic prospects. Instead of looking inward and examining what might be repelling a possible partner, it’s women’s fault for never giving the other 80% of men a chance. Jamie tells his therapist that he agrees.
I’m one of the lucky ones. I know good men. I have a father who gave me the gift of self-esteem, two brothers with whom I have genuine respectful relationships, and a loving husband who views me as an equal, a partner. I have wonderful uncles, cousins, and friends. I’ve also known bad men. I’ve given out a fake phone number or lied about having a boyfriend to end an uncomfortable interaction. I’ve heard countless men qualify their misogynistic beliefs with a Democratic voting record. I’ve calculated the cost of saying no. I’ve feared for my life while alone with a man. But like I said, I’ve ultimately been lucky.
I’m not yet a parent. I don’t have the answers, nor the experience. I do know one thing, though: I am grateful that I will raise a child in the wake of “Adolescence.”
I’m not yet a parent. I don’t have the answers, nor the experience. I do know one thing, though: I am grateful that I will raise a child in the wake of “Adolescence.” I am grateful for the conversations I hear and read that are happening right now, because of this series. The show and the devastating story it tells has sparked heavy and painful conversations between couples, parents, sons and their parents, sons and their fathers, and, God willing, between young men.
One of the final scenes in the last episode of “Adolescence” takes place between Jamie’s parents. They sit shoulder-to-shoulder on their neatly made bedspread and discuss, through tears, where they failed their son. “Adolescence” is careful to make it clear that they are not to blame. Jamie didn’t come from a home without love. His heinous act of violence wasn’t born from another heinous act of violence.
There is no easy fix and there is no single scapegoat. The solution isn’t merely removing cellphones and limiting internet access. The solution isn’t blaming parents, or teachers, or little girls. If we keep talking, though, perhaps we will find one.