The Intricacies of Sexual Assault in Netflix’s Feel Good
In the show's second season, Mae Martin subverts the dominant narrative surrounding survivors of sexual violence.
The second season of Mae Martin's Netflix comedy-drama, Feel Good (2021), presents a nuanced, survivor-centred portrayal of sexual trauma. Throughout six thirty-minute episodes, the comedian shatters stereotypes surrounding sexual assault stories in media. Martin is bisexual and nonbinary (she/they), and their show seamlessly blends their struggles with gender identity, addiction, and trauma. Survivors are not a monolith, and while many television shows follow the same formula in their depiction of assault, Feel Good does not attempt to generalize or categorize people who have endured trauma. Instead, it seeks to resonate with survivors while also telling a deeply personal, semi-autobiographical story. Martin reminds viewers that the show is based on aspects of their own life by starring as a character named after themselves.
Martin's refusal to adhere to stereotypes about sexual assault contributes to the series’ realistic portrayal of trauma. Mainstream television often shies away from characterizing survivors as multi-faceted, lest they be too complex for audiences to empathize with. This is an inherently problematic idea, and Feel Good refutes it by centring a flawed, realistic character. As a teenager, Mae developed a drug addiction, for which she was kicked out of her family home. Now in her mid-30s, Mae relapses and attends rehab, where she realizes that she can only remember fragments of her teenage years. In the first episode, Mae describes her recollections as jumbled (Episode 1, 11:26), which hints at her suppressing memories that could retraumatize her if they surface. She also denies having experienced any distressing ordeals that could have had a lasting impact on her, insisting that she has had a better life than most due to her parents' wealth, but her therapist challenges the stereotype that only a specific type of person can undergo trauma. While people from lower socio-economic backgrounds are likely to have difficulty accessing support and resources, people with a privileged upbringing can also experience abuse.
In Episode Four, Mae's manager persuades her to expose a well-known male comedian, Arnie Rivers, for sexually inappropriate behaviour. Mae is reluctant at first, but under pressure, agrees to call him out on live television. When her girlfriend and friend ask her if she will truly benefit from the confrontation, Mae responds, "I'm gonna bring it up on the show. How badass is that? It's like Kill Bill...This is like me finally taking action for all the things I'm fucking furious about" (Episode 4, 3:38). Mae imagines that her lived experience will play out like a female revenge flick, when in fact, the film she references is notorious for oversimplifying sexual violence and catering to the male gaze. Mae’s pop culture reference offers viewers a glimpse into how sexual assault narratives portrayed in film and television affect survivors in real life. At the beginning of her graduate school dissertation, Elizabeth Cachey discusses harmful stereotypes about sexual assault that permeate storytelling. She expresses that, "In recent years, there's been a pattern of depicting the survivors themselves as the givers-of-consequence, enacting violent, masculine revenge against their abusers" (2). The widespread nature of this media narrative adds to the pressure that survivors feel when attempting to cope with their assault. There is no universal 'right' way to deal with such an experience.
After being pressured by her manager, Mae hopes that exposing her harasser on live television will be an empowering, cathartic experience. However, it does not work out, because the decision is forced upon her even after she changes her mind. Agency is an essential element of healing, and a survivor-centred approach to trauma seeks to restore power to the person who has lost it. This is a prime example of why survivors should be able to speak for themselves. Before the show, Mae's friend, Phil, approaches her, stating, "I really don't think this is a good idea. Is it on your own terms, Mae? Because it doesn't feel like it... show business is hell... exploiting and commodifying pain for giggles" (Episode 4, 7:10). Phil's statement is insightful, as it highlights the dubious nature of the entertainment business, which seeks to profit off of traumatized people. When Mae decides not to out the harasser, she asks her manager, "Have we thought about what happens to me after the show?" (Episode 4, 14:43). This is a critical question, as it puts into perspective how much of a risk it is to expose a powerful abuser.
The pressure she feels is shared by many survivors who feel that they 'owe' the world their stories. Too often, survivors are made into symbols of a movement, and others cease to view them as real people. Feel Good affirms that there is nothing wrong with a survivor putting themselves first and prioritizing their own wellbeing. While many television programs only show 'brave' survivors who report their assaults immediately and take their rapists to court, Feel Good acknowledges the realistic complexity of assault. This is an incredibly positive choice. After all, homogenous media portrayals of trauma can "lead a survivor to believe that if her story doesn’t match the narrative, she is 'wrong;' her reality, her entire new post-trauma sense of self is simply 'wrong'" (Cachey, 3).
Feel Good also succeeds in subverting the dominant narrative by portraying a queer individual who is affected by sexual violence. In an article about sexual assault stories on television, Kornfield and Jones reveal some recurring issues within media representation. After comparing and analyzing an abundance of different shows, they conclude that “these episodes predominantly feature straight White cis female survivors, ignoring the structures of interlocking oppression through which people of color and LGBTQ+ people experience disproportionate rates of sexual violence. Finally, these #MeToo episodes are often a series' only episode that deal with sexual violence" (Kornfield and Jones, 12). Feel Good deviates from this norm, as the main character's experiences with sexual harassment and assault are brought up and addressed throughout the season.
Additionally, despite having racial privilege as a White person, Mae is neither straight nor cisgender; thus, her experience with sexual assault differs from what society views as the 'average victim' (aka a conventionally attractive, gender-conforming, straight, white cisgender woman). There is a pervasive stereotype that AFAB LGBTQ+ individuals who present masculine are less likely to be assaulted, as though their gender non-conformity protects them in a sense. This is not true, as all misogyny-affected individuals are at risk of sexual assault. Moreover, members of the LGBTQ+ community are just as likely to experience domestic abuse. In a study on intimate partner violence in the community, Scheer and Poteat report that "There is growing evidence that IPV occurs among lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer (LGBTQ) individuals at equal or even higher rates as cisgender heterosexual individuals" (Scheer and Poteat, 2018).
Another prominent media myth that Martin contests is that of the 'perfect victim'. The DC Rape Crisis website states, "The court of public opinion is on the hunt for a survivor that is worthy of our sympathy, a victim who no one would find at fault" (DC Rape Crisis Centre). The idea of the 'perfect victim' is harmful, as it perpetuates the idea that some survivors are complicit in, and somehow responsible for, their trauma. This stereotype is often employed in media portrayals of sexual assault narratives to simplify the situation and make it 'easy' to root for specific survivors. Martin's character is not 'the perfect victim', attacked by some unknown, visibly aggressive man. Her childhood abuser, Scott, is a friend at least ten years her senior. Her attachment to him is complicated because he provided her with a place to live while she experienced addiction during her teen years. However, he also took advantage of her, exploiting the power imbalance and age gap between them.
Mae grapples with her attachment to her former abuser as she begins to recognize that she was assaulted. Through her depiction of Mae's internal conflict, Martin challenges the dominant narrative that questions the validity of survivors who have trouble cutting ties with their abusers, or who 'love' their abusers while still holding them accountable. After planning to speak to him for months, Mae approaches Scott and tells him that though she loves him, she never wants to see him again (Episode 6, 26:00). It is abundantly clear that Scott is a sexual predator and pedophile; Mae's complicated feelings do not negate that. Immediately after her discussion with Scott, Mae throws up. This is a visceral reminder of how horrible the situation is for her. As Mae and her girlfriend drive away after this event, Phoebe Bridgers’ Motion Sickness plays. The lyrics "I hate you for what you did/and I miss you like a little kid" (Bridgers, 2017) perfectly encompass Mae’s sorrow and anxiety after confronting the man who violated her when he was supposed to take care of her.
Healing is a continuous process, which does not stop the moment a survivor calls out a perpetrator of sexual assault. In their analysis of how mainstream television portrays #MeToo, Kornfield and Jones assert that “Disclosure is often framed as cathartic and is thus imagined as an endpoint for survivors. Yet when the goal is to shift culture, disclosure can function as the ‘beginning of a process’ not the end” (Kornfield and Jones, 5). In this regard, Feel Good can be seen as progressive, even if Mae’s confrontation occurs at the end. The open-ended ambiguity of the show's final minutes suggests that Mae has an adequate support system and is ready to move forward and truly begin the process of healing.
In conclusion, the show demonstrates that healing takes time, and accountability must occur on the survivor's own terms. This is visible when the main character attempts to hold two sexual predators accountable on separate occasions. Though she gains closure, neither man faces the consequences that are often seen on television, such as being arrested or reported to the police. While some viewers may find this infuriating, it is simply realistic. Elizabeth Cachey writes that, contrary to popular belief, “most sexual assaults go unreported, both to people close to the victim and to authority figures. The perpetrators are rarely caught or suffer any consequences for their crimes” (Cachey, 3). The justice system fails to protect survivors, and reporting an assault often leads to the survivor being interrogated, retraumatized, and victim-blamed. Thus, this way of dealing with sexual assault is not conducive to every person’s healing journey. As a result, Feel Good defies dominant narratives about sexual trauma, asserting that survivors should not have to follow a certain socially acceptable healing process in order to be deserving of empathy and understanding. In a sea of television programs that co-opt trauma narratives, this show stands out due to its authentic, humanizing portrayal of a survivor learning to work through her trauma. Hopefully, it will set a precedent for shows that seek to handle this subject matter in the future.
Works Cited
Bridgers, Phoebe. “Motion Sickness.” Strangers in the Alps, Dead Oceans Records, 2017. Youtube.
Cachey, Elizabeth. “It’s Not Rape-y Enough”: How the Master Sexual Assault Narrative Restricts the Stories Writers Can Tell. ProQuest Dissertations Publishing, 2017.
"Episode 1." Feel Good: Season 2, written by Mae Martin and Joe Hampson, directed by Luke Snellin, Netflix, 2021.
"Episode 4." Feel Good: Season 2, written by Mae Martin and Joe Hampson, directed by Luke Snellin, Netflix, 2021.
"Episode 6." Feel Good: Season 2, written by Mae Martin and Joe Hampson, directed by Luke Snellin, Netflix, 2021.
Kornfield, Sarah & Jones, Hannah (2021) #MeToo on TV: Popular feminism and episodic sexual violence, Feminist Media Studies, DOI: 10.1080/14680777.2021.1900314
“Myths About Sexual Violence.” DC Rape Crisis Centre dcrcc.org/myths-about-sexual-violence/.
Scheer, Jillian R., and V. Paul Poteat. “Trauma-Informed Care and Health Among LGBTQ Intimate Partner Violence Survivors.” Journal of Interpersonal Violence, vol. 36, no. 13–14, July 2021, pp. 6670–6692, doi:10.1177/0886260518820688.