What ‘And Just Like That…’ Gets Wrong About Young Adults’ Gender Identity That ‘Better Things’ Gets Right

We’re living through a terrifying time for queer, trans, and gender non-conforming young adults, with anti-trans legislation in Texas, Idaho, and a host of other U.S. states threatening trans youths’ right to participate in sports, access gender-affirming health care, and simply live freely and openly as who they are. Given this political context, it’s heartening to know that TV shows are ramping up their efforts to present young adult characters who exist outside of the cis-straight binary. But not all those shows are created equal.

On the highly anticipated Sex and the City reboot And Just Like That…, ultra-femme, fussy protagonist Charlotte is flummoxed when her younger child, Rose, starts asking to be called “Rock,” going by they/them pronouns, disdaining their all-pink bedroom, and cutting their hair short. Rock’s nascent identity is dismissed as a “phase” by everyone from their father, Harry—he is appalled when Rock’s teacher gently affirms their gender identity—to Charlotte’s friend Anthony, himself a gay man. Notwithstanding the brilliant casting of Hari Nef as Rock’s trans rabbi, it’s clear throughout the season that this show wants to emphasize that Rock’s shift is causing the York-Goldenblatt family some serious strife.

This may be a realistic response, given our country’s panic around trans youth, but it’s also a painful reminder to many of us across the LGBTQ+ spectrum that our stories are not our own; they are catalysts for the people in our lives to react to as they will.  While the depiction of Rock’s self-confidence and determination is admirable, it’s disappointing that we don’t see more of them moving through the world as an out nonbinary teen rather than primarily as a foil to their parents’ anxieties. Charlotte’s confusion and occasional dismay may ring true, but it feels like a lost opportunity that the entirety of Rock’s storyline is processed through the reactions of their cis, straight mother. (Selfishly, I wish Charlotte did a little more to hide her struggle from Rock, if only so that today’s tweens and teens might avoid the inchoate message that being who they are is a burden on their loved ones.)

At first glance, Pamela Adlon’s FX series Better Things employs a similar framing, telling the story of teenage Frankie’s gender and sexuality journey through the lens of her mother, seldom-employed and often-frustrated cis, straight actress Sam Fox. In Season 1 of Better Things, Frankie is sent home from school for using the men’s room; Sam’s oldest daughter, Max, deflects her mother’s annoyance by telling her “Mom, Frankie is a boy.”