Jun 4, 2025
Article: spoiler alert for Netflix series, Adolescence. Read with caution:
So many people are still talking about Adolescence, the short Netflix series that opens with a shocking moment—police show up at Jamie Miller’s house and arrest him for the murder of a girl from his school, Katie Leonard. From the very start, you feel the panic, the disbelief, the unraveling of what seemed like a normal family life. What makes this show different is that it’s not just about whether Jamie did it . It’s about how a kid could even get to that point—and what happens to the people left behind.
A poignant episode of the show focuses on one of Jamie’s sessions with a therapist, where we start to understand what might have led to his actions. He talks in circles, denies the video of the murder is real, blames others, and avoids owning what happened. And while that can be hard to watch, it’s also honest. He’s 13. A child. But also, somehow, someone who has caused unimaginable pain. The show doesn’t ask us to forgive him. It just asks us to look deeper.
And then there’s Jamie’s dad, Eddie. He’s not the loud type. He’s the kind of guy who fixes things, keeps his head down, and works hard. When everything starts falling apart, he doesn’t really know what to do—but he stays. He tries. He messes up. He paints over the graffiti on their van, even though it doesn’t really fix anything. He shows up to family dinners even when no one’s hungry. He keeps trying to hold the pieces of his family together, even as the cracks get bigger.
There’s this one scene where he walks into Jamie’s empty room and just breaks. It’s so quiet, but it says everything. And if you’ve ever watched someone in your family fall apart and try to pretend they’re okay for everyone else, that scene hits different.
Some people online said the final episode was boring. But that’s what real grief is like. There’s no dramatic music. There’s no big ending. It’s just people trying to figure out how to go on living after something awful. A Reddit commenter shared that it reminded them of their own dad, crying in their brother’s room after he died by suicide. They said, “It’s not boring. It’s real.”
What also stands out in Adolescence is how it shows the way boys are treated differently. There’s a scene where a girl physically attacks a boy she thinks might be involved in the case. She walks away with no consequences. No one rushes to help the boy. He gets knocked down, and that’s it. That’s the message a lot of boys get from a young age: your pain isn’t a priority. Your emotions are less important. If you’re hurt, deal with it. If you cry, you’re weak.
And that’s where this show really hits a nerve. Because boys are watching. They’re listening. They’re growing up in a world that tells them to be tough, to stay quiet, to bottle things up. And if they don’t have someone showing them a better way—someone like Eddie—they can get lost in all the noise.
There’s a moment in the show when Jamie’s dad says, “I believe you.” He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t demand answers. He just believes. And that simple act—believing in his son even when everything is falling apart—is powerful. Not because it makes things better. But because it makes his son less alone.
Some viewers shared online that they could’ve been Jamie. One person said, “We didn’t have social media like this growing up. If we were 13 now, I don’t know if we’d have stayed on the right path.” They talked about how the manosphere—those toxic online communities that teach boys to hate women, fear emotion, and chase power—are everywhere now. You don’t even have to go looking for it. One minute you’re watching gym videos, the next you’re being fed misogyny and fake “alpha male” content. It’s subtle, but dangerous. And a lot of parents have no idea it’s even happening.
That’s why a character like Eddie matters so much. He’s not a superhero. He’s not a therapist. He’s not even particularly insightful. But he’s there. He stays. He tries. And in a world where boys are being pulled in all directions—some of them really dark—just having someone who’s willing to be steady, soft, and real can make all the difference.
This Father’s Day, I hope we celebrate those dads. The ones who love without conditions. The ones who don’t pretend to have it all together. The ones who say “I’m sorry” and mean it. The ones who cry behind closed doors but still show up the next day. That’s real strength. And in a time when boys are being told to be louder, tougher, meaner—dads like Eddie are a quiet kind of hero.
And if you didn’t grow up with a dad like that, or you’re trying to figure out how to be one, I just want to say this: it’s never too late to break the cycle. It starts with being present. Listening. Believing. Crying if you need to. And reminding the boys in your life that they don’t have to carry the weight of masculinity alone.
Because real men don’t just hold it in. They hold people up.
Because every boy deserves someone who teaches him that being a man means being human.