Zendaya's Euphoria

'Euphoria' and the Evolving Boundaries of TV Sexuality

Playboy examines how Zendaya's buzzy HBO series is informed by previous shows' takes on sex

Courtesy: HBO

Before Euphoria even aired its pilot, pearl-clutchers and lovers of TV-MA programming alike were intrigued by one omnipresent headline: HBO's new show about high schoolers was set to have an incredibly high volume of full-frontal male nudity. Specifically, 30 penises were rumored to pepper one episode. 

So, it seemed like Gen Z's first U.S. teen drama unbeholden to the cable censors would quickly outpace its predecessors, from Gossip Girl to Skins, in its portrayal of teen sexuality. Which is kind of true. But though Gen X and millennial viewers might get an extreme urge to take every teen in their life to a Disney double feature after binging the recently completed eight-episode season, what's most striking about the show is how closely it's able to stick to classic teen story lines while still raising the blood pressure of Sunday-school teachers everywhere.

That phenomena is probably best captured by Kat's storyline. Played by body-positive model Barbie Ferreira, Kat becomes a camgirl after a video of her losing her virginity is posted online (without her consent), and she sees the positive, though creepy, feedback it gets online. Euphoria isn't the first show to feature a teen girl dabbling in webcam sex work—Brie Larson's Kate on The United States of Tara was sitting on cakes while men virtually watched nearly a decade ago. And while it's still refreshing for a show to costar a plus-sized women (or any woman, really) truly taking ownership of her sexuality and enjoying sex, Kat's saga plays out like so many TV teenage misfits before her.

Certain that she'll be rejected and wanting to preempt it, Kat spurns the sweet guy who likes her for her, instead opting for a series of at times sexually gratifying, but often emotionally damaging, hookups. Eventually, at the school dance, of all places, she admits she's afraid of being hurt, he suggests they give it a try anyway and they go off into the sunset, maybe to have sex in the janitor's closet, but more likely to actually watch Netflix and chill.

Sometimes the show takes a tried-and-true storyline and adds a little nuance for 2019. Toward the end of the season, a teenager—who was cautioned by her mom not to get pregnant—actually gets pregnant, and while that plot point is older than an ABC Afterschool Special, it does paint abortion as a safe, not overly traumatic option.

The bluntness of the question—"What's your number?"—makes the characters bolder than even their early 2000s counterparts.

What does set Euphoria apart from teen shows past is its spotlight on romantic relationships between queer and trans characters (notably, importantly, played by trans actors). Fans of even the original Degrassi could point out that LGBTQ relationships on teen TV is nothing new, but Euphoria presents a group of teens who truly believe sexuality is a spectrum. Rue (Zendaya) describes her maybe-girlfriend, Jules (Hunter Schafer), as "predominantly het." Later, when a friend of a friend asks about Jules' love life, she asks if she's primarily hooked up with guys, rather than asking for a label. Rue's sexual history is exclusively guys whom she doesn't seem to have any spark with until she falls in love with Jules. But again, the characters and the show aren't interested in putting a label on her sexual orientation, simply presenting the past as lackluster entries in her romance ledger, and her current relationship as fueled by love and lust.

Maybe the most jarring detail of the teens' hookups is the often-repeated question, "What's your number?" It's surprising not just because that phrase reached its peak pop-culture relevance with Anna Faris' 2011 rom-com of the same name. Asking how many sexual partners your potential hookup has had comes off on the show as high-schooler small talk, and while the idea of sexual one-upmanship at high school parties on-screen isn't new, the bluntness of the question does seem to make the characters bolder than even their early 2000s counterparts.
Not everything about the way the series handles sexuality is progressive. It's not a great look that the only real discussion around consent comes from a girl lying about being blackout drunk during a hookup, giving her abusive boyfriend ammunition to accuse that other guy of rape (though he did commit statutory rape). And while bad guy Nate's (Jacob Elordi) girlfriend, Maddy (Alexa Demie), is willing to say no one is 100% gay or 100% straight when she seems to find proof Nate has been getting dick pics from other guys, her heart isn't really behind it, and you don't get the impression she would really be comfortable with Nate coming out as bi or pan.

Euphoria is a show that's taking a lot of creative risks. The close-up, light-shifting, mood-changing shots are gorgeous, and whatever you think about the music video that closes out the season, it was different in a way that got people talking. Even if the way the show explores teen sexuality isn't groundbreaking, the fact that more teens will see themselves reflected in the high schoolers who are bumbling their way through the halls and each other's beds is groundbreaking.

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Molly Horan
Molly Horan
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