Birds and Bees: Bridgerton’s Unexpected Lessons
The moment that threw me out of the series—and left me feeling let down as a longtime fan of romance novels.
By Clara Thompson
Updated: Feb. 20, 2024
Originally Published: March 25, 2022
For over a decade, I had a book club of two with my 90-year-old grandmother, where we delved into Regency romance novels. We began with the more reserved Georgette Heyer but quickly shifted to the more provocative titles often labeled as “bodice rippers.” Even if you aren’t a fan, you may have seen them tucked away in the drugstore or supermarket checkout line, lured in by the enticing covers that promised plenty of passion. We enjoyed countless stories together until she passed away in 2020 at nearly 101 years old. My father humorously referred to me as her “dealer,” since I would bring her bags full of books, which she was too shy to donate to her retirement community library after reading.
I frequently called her to discuss her latest reads, prompting her to reflect on her own life and relationships. She claimed she wasn’t reading these books for the sex—“that button doesn’t work anymore, dear”—but for the insightful portrayals of family dynamics and romance. We spent hours analyzing characters’ aspirations, disappointments, and failures, which allowed her to share nearly a century of life experiences.
But for those of us who still feel that “button” working, the intimate scenes are quite enjoyable. While often criticized as misogynistic, contemporary Regency romance novels are filled with female empowerment and depict equitable sexual relationships. They feature many men enthusiastic about prioritizing their partners’ pleasure. To truly grasp how the romance genre champions female satisfaction, check out Beyond Heaving Bosoms: The Smart Bitches Guide to Romance Novels.
So, when Bridgerton—based on Julia Quinn’s fantastic book series—premiered on Netflix in late 2020, I was thrilled. Produced by the talented Shonda Rhimes, known for showcasing strong women who assert their desires both in and out of the bedroom, I believed she would honor the essence of the stories.
Then I started watching the series—an enjoyable experience overall—with my 13-year-old daughter. We reached the pivotal scene where Daphne Bridgerton loses her virginity to the Duke of Hastings, and I was taken aback. My shock wasn’t due to the explicit content or the fact that I was watching it with my daughter; rather, I was horrified by how Daphne’s orgasm was portrayed as a result of her husband simply inserting his penis into her vagina (though they didn’t show that part closely).
I paused the Roku and turned to my daughter, asking, “What did we just see?” She calmly stated, “Daphne having an orgasm.” I pressed further, “Yes, but how did that happen? What did he need to do?” My daughter, with a hint of annoyance, replied, “Her clitoris.”
In that moment, I threw my hands up in triumph. My daughter understood what an orgasm was. She recognized that traditional penetration alone wouldn’t lead to female pleasure. She even said the word “clitoris” out loud. I felt like I had succeeded as a parent, even if my daughter was mortified.
However, it was infuriating to think about all the teenage girls and young women watching that scene, potentially believing that’s what sex should be. But it’s not, not just because the scene missed the mark on female pleasure. If my daughter hadn’t been ready to abandon me in the living room, I would have elaborated that the scene’s serious tone, devoid of any humor or awkwardness, perpetuated the myth that sex is supposed to be silent and graceful. I call nonsense on that idea. Realistic portrayals of inexperienced sex should embrace the awkwardness and humor of two bodies connecting for the first time—something my grandmother understood.
As Season 2 of Bridgerton arrives this weekend, I can only hope that the empowering representations of sex found in modern Regency romance novels are more pronounced than in the first season. I wish for the next time I pause Bridgerton for a home lesson on sex education, it will be to highlight what they got right instead of what they missed. And oh, how I wish I could watch it with my grandmother.
Clara Thompson is the co-host of The Growing Up Podcast, the founder of Empower Kids, an organization focused on puberty education, and the author of the Parenting Insights Newsletter, which explores the challenges of raising adolescents. You can follow her on Instagram @clarathompson.
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