A Female Therapist's Perspective on Adolescence, Episode 3

The Hit Netflix Show Reveals the Complex Realities Young Men Face — and Why Connection and Communication Matter Most

On the podcast this week, Todd and I talked about the Netflix show Adolescence, specifically Episode 3, which features a conversation between a 13-year-old boy named Jamie — who is accused of murdering a young girl named Katie — and a female therapist, a clinical psychologist named Briony Arison.

If you’ve seen or read about this series, you know it’s not a question of whether Jamie did it — it’s a question of why, and how a young boy somehow decided to kill a young girl.

The most honest — and maybe even frustrating — part of this series is that there isn’t one clear answer. There are many reasons, and we don’t get the luxury of pointing our finger at one person or experience that led to his choices.

It’s a mixture of many factors: the society he lives in, the culture of masculinity, issues at school, cyberbullying, his inability to communicate his feelings, and his struggle to live up to what he believes his dad — or men in general — expect of him. Most ominously, there’s the influence of the manosphere — an online network that promotes traditional masculinity, male dominance, and often misogynistic views that encourage violent language and behavior toward women. Within this space are incels (short for "involuntary celibates") — men who believe they can’t form romantic or sexual relationships, often blaming women for their struggles.

There’s so much to unpack when it comes to this series — too many jumping-off points to count. But after watching Episode 3 twice with my therapist hat on, I found myself drawn to Jamie’s language and reasoning, paying close attention to what we can take from it to better understand and discuss a show that, while fictional, reflects the real-life violence we’ve seen in the UK with stabbings and in the US with mass shootings — both often rooted in men’s feelings of entitlement or anger toward women.

The language that stood out most to me was about being known, which came through in two statements and one question Jamie shares:

1. “My dad is ashamed of me.”

2. “I’m ugly.”

3. “Do you like me?”

The first two are stories Jamie tells himself, but he gets frustrated when Briony doesn't push back or tell him they're not true. As a therapist, her job isn't to change his mind or simply make him feel better — it's to be curious about his thinking and understand why he believes these things.

But Jamie gets angry when Briony doesn't question or attempt to manage his feelings about his thoughts. He even accuses her of not speaking “normally” to him, insisting it’s her job to make him feel better. He’s not feeling mad at his dad for being ashamed of him or at himself for feeling ugly — he’s angry with this woman for not soothing the emotions he doesn’t know how to work through.

His most heartbreaking question — “Do you like me?” — as their time together ends, reveals what he really longs for. These moments reflect what so many kids want to know and what they need to know to feel safe in the world: Am I okay (or are you ashamed)? Am I ugly (or do I belong)? Do I matter (do you like me)?

The next three things that stood out were insights into Jamie's beliefs:

1. He repeatedly says, "I did nothing wrong."

2. He doesn’t like feeling criticized by a girl or woman — shown by how he describes his previous therapist (a man) and how he tries to intimidate his current therapist (a woman).

3. He insists that having female friends is weird — pointing out that his dad doesn’t have any, and neither does he.

Jamie saying he did nothing wrong could be his way of convincing Briony that he didn’t commit the crime — but since he also alludes to having done it, it can suggest that he doesn’t want to believe it was wrong or that he was somehow justified.

He shares that Katie had bullied him on social media using emojis tied to the manosphere. Like the exploding red pill emoji 🧨, inspired by The Matrix, which symbolizes “seeing the truth” and is often used to promote harmful ideas about women or to claim that feminism is to blame for all of society's struggles. Katie uses the kidney bean emoji on Jamie’s post because it’s used as a symbol to label someone an incel or for incels to self-identify. On the flip side, the coffee cup emoji is used by incels to express disdain for women, commonly paired with the word "women ☕." And the 💯 emoji is used to distort the “80/20 rule,” claiming that 80% of women are only attracted to 20% of men. This way of thinking portrays women as gatekeepers of sex and men as helpless victims of rejection, stirring up resentment by making it seem like women’s preferences are unfair or manipulative. It completely oversimplifies the real complexities of relationships, connection, and emotional well-being.

It also places an unfair burden on women, implying they are to blame for men's struggles. This way of thinking discourages men from developing healthier coping skills, improving communication, or exploring why their behavior may be perceived or responded to negatively. Instead, it pushes them to direct their frustration at women, sometimes even normalizing violence against them.

Jamie repeatedly asks his therapist if she agrees that Katie was a "bullying bitch." It seems as if, by getting her to agree, he’s hoping to justify his violence.

During their session, Jamie shifts back and forth between charm and aggression, trying to control their conversation and dynamic. He is cooperative at times, but when Briony doesn’t respond the way he wants, he becomes grandiose and condescending. At one point, he says, "Look at you, all hopeful like I’m gonna say something important," an attempt to undermine her confidence and dismiss her as someone unworthy of his respect.

His behavior is about being difficult, but it also reflects the toxic beliefs he’s picked up online, particularly the idea that women shouldn’t challenge or confront him. Jamie seems unsettled by Briony’s calm, steady presence — as if her refusal to react emotionally is both infuriating and threatening. His discomfort with her authority makes him tear her down, showing just how much he struggles with the idea of a woman being in charge.

In my book Restoring Our Girls, my goal was to create a guide for having meaningful conversations with our daughters — conversations that acknowledge the culture they’re navigating and listen to their experiences. We can’t erase the internet or prevent negative influences from reaching our kids — whether it’s sexist language, body image pressure, negative self-talk, or attempts to create distrust between them and others. But what we can do is talk to them about these realities and offer something different — not perfection or blind optimism, but a grounded perspective shaped by wisdom and compassion. This means being willing to acknowledge what they’re seeing and offering alternative ways of experiencing the world and connecting with others.

We need to remember that feelings are just part of being human — they're not something only women experience, and they’re nothing to be ashamed of or suppressed. As a family, we can create space for feelings to be shared, acknowledged, and valued — normalizing emotions and responding to them with understanding rather than judgment.

We can also reflect on how we approach equality — both in how we treat our partners and family members and in how we talk about women in the world, especially those in positions of power. It's important to be aware and pay attention to the way we talk about women — to recognize why we criticize them, whether we're relying on stereotypes, or assuming the worst about them. Our ability to catch ourselves and talk about it, especially in front of our boys, gives them a more thoughtful perspective — one that encourages them to question what they may be hearing or seeing, whether online or when we aren’t around.

Every thought Jamie shared — about his dad’s feelings toward him, his appearance, and whether he's likable — reflects both his inner pain and confusion, as well as something I know most people, especially teens, struggle with: Do you see me? Do you hear me? Do you value me?

When I talk to parents about having meaningful conversations with their kids and addressing these questions, they often say, “My kid knows I love them.” While love is important, it doesn’t encapsulate everything kids need. They need reassurance — and they need to feel grounded in that reassurance: Am I okay as I am? Do you care about me no matter what? And most importantly, do you like me? — not just love me, but genuinely like me.

Human beings are hard-wired to seek connection, to know they matter, and to find meaning in their lives. This is the epitome of emotional and mental health. As the adults in our children’s lives, we need to make time to talk about these things — to express how much they mean to us and to help them see their own value and sense of self more clearly. They need to hear that their worth isn’t tied to their grades or athletic ability, and that we value them for who they are — not for what they achieve or how they appear to the outside world.

Whether we're parents or people who work with kids, we have to trust that their well-being starts from within. It’s not just about how they show up or perform; it’s about how they understand and make sense of who they are and what they do. Our kids will inevitably face challenges and insecurities, but knowing they are seen, known, and loved by the people who matter most gives them something steady to depend on.

As our kids encounter people who don’t care about them or who try to influence them online, they can carry our voice in their heads — an ongoing reminder of their worth and value. That voice becomes what they rely on as they navigate a world that can at times feel bleak.

This is especially true for boys, who are often told that caring is a weakness. The irony is, that’s all Jamie ever wanted — to know it was okay to care and to know for sure that someone cared about him. While his parents did care, and there were people at school who wanted to help, he didn’t hear it clearly enough — or in a way he could understand or trust. Instead, he clung to what felt simplest, easiest to believe, and most readily available.

P.S. We discussed Adolescence, Episode 3 on this week’s Zen Parenting Radio podcast.

Click below to register for a virtual conversation about Restoring Our Girls, where we will discuss topics like this and more. Hosted by Growing Our Girls.