Byron's escape to Nottingham's underworld and discovery of the East Midlands' "premier podium-dancer-cum-hellraiser" Lady Die, who adopts Byron into her family of hilarious and chaotic troub... Read allByron's escape to Nottingham's underworld and discovery of the East Midlands' "premier podium-dancer-cum-hellraiser" Lady Die, who adopts Byron into her family of hilarious and chaotic troublemakers in the UK's early 2000s club scene.Byron's escape to Nottingham's underworld and discovery of the East Midlands' "premier podium-dancer-cum-hellraiser" Lady Die, who adopts Byron into her family of hilarious and chaotic troublemakers in the UK's early 2000s club scene.
Browse episodes
Featured reviews
I watched all episodes in one sitting. It recreated the era particularly well. An outstanding cast with impeccable direction. Ellis (Byron) was in just about every scene and was perfect casting. I laughed, cried, laughed some more until I couldn't breathe. Emotional and outstanding drama. The music was also a great reminder of the nightlife scene 25 years ago, it had a way of transporting you back all those years ago without feeling that time had moved too much. A couple of familiar faces popped up that added to the enjoyment as they were unfamiliar roles for those actors. Well done to all for the journey.
I have only watched one episode but can already tell this is a groundbreaking show. It has that honest raw queer depiction like Queer As Folk back then but with a deeper sensitivity akin to the film Beautiful Things. It balances humour, coming of age drama and sexuality with perfection. The lead Ellis Howard is fantastic and so are the rest of the cast. I must admit I was worried it would be one of these overstylized and over the top LGBTQ dramas with ridiculous storylines and fierce characters. It's the opposite, it shows the flaws, doubts and struggle of a young queer character but in a funny and original way. The writing reminds me of author Douglas Stuart but lighter. Also the UK 2000s rendition is spot on. I know where the story is going and I'm impatient to follow it.
The BBC series What It Feels Like for a Girl, adapted from Paris Lees' memoir, has drawn significant criticism for its handling of sensitive themes and its narrative choices. While aiming to portray a trans coming-of-age story set in early 2000s Nottinghamshire, the series stumbles in ways that undermine its intent and alienate viewers.
One major critique is the show's misleading title, which suggests an exploration of girlhood but instead centers on the experiences of Byron, a character who is not a girl. This has sparked accusations of misrepresentation, with critics arguing it co-opts female experiences without authentically engaging with them. The narrative's focus on Byron's life as a teen sex worker and their immersion in a chaotic, hedonistic subculture is depicted with a gritty bravado that feels more sensational than insightful. Rather than offering a nuanced look at gender identity or self-discovery, the series leans heavily on shock value-graphic depictions of risky encounters and drug-fueled anarchy-which risks glamorizing or trivializing serious issues like abuse and vulnerability.
The characterization is another weak point. Byron, played by Ellis Howard, is portrayed as charismatic but often unlikeable-arrogant, vicious, and prone to cruel behavior, such as mocking a trans friend's physical features. While complex protagonists can be compelling, Byron's lack of consistent redeeming qualities makes it difficult for audiences to empathize, especially when the show frames their actions as self-affirmative rather than self-destructive. Supporting characters, particularly the women, are thinly drawn, often reduced to stereotypes like the neglectful mother or one-dimensional bigots, which flattens the story's emotional depth.
The series also faces backlash for its handling of social issues. Critics have pointed to its depiction of homophobia and transphobia as cartoonish, with antagonists portrayed as exaggerated caricatures rather than complex figures. This approach undermines the show's ability to meaningfully address prejudice. Additionally, some have criticized its casting choices, particularly the decision to cast a male actor as Byron, which has fueled debates about authenticity and representation among both feminist and gender identity activist circles.
Finally, the show's attempt to blend raw social commentary with nostalgic Y2K aesthetics feels disjointed. The club scene and cultural references are vivid but often overshadow the story's substance, leaving it feeling like a stylistic exercise rather than a coherent drama. The conventional resolution-a redemptive arc involving incarceration and loss-feels tacked on, failing to reconcile the earlier chaos with meaningful growth.
In short, What It Feels Like for a Girl aims for bold storytelling but falters with its provocative tone, shallow characterizations, and questionable framing of complex issues. It's a series that tries to provoke but ends up alienating more than it enlightens.
One major critique is the show's misleading title, which suggests an exploration of girlhood but instead centers on the experiences of Byron, a character who is not a girl. This has sparked accusations of misrepresentation, with critics arguing it co-opts female experiences without authentically engaging with them. The narrative's focus on Byron's life as a teen sex worker and their immersion in a chaotic, hedonistic subculture is depicted with a gritty bravado that feels more sensational than insightful. Rather than offering a nuanced look at gender identity or self-discovery, the series leans heavily on shock value-graphic depictions of risky encounters and drug-fueled anarchy-which risks glamorizing or trivializing serious issues like abuse and vulnerability.
The characterization is another weak point. Byron, played by Ellis Howard, is portrayed as charismatic but often unlikeable-arrogant, vicious, and prone to cruel behavior, such as mocking a trans friend's physical features. While complex protagonists can be compelling, Byron's lack of consistent redeeming qualities makes it difficult for audiences to empathize, especially when the show frames their actions as self-affirmative rather than self-destructive. Supporting characters, particularly the women, are thinly drawn, often reduced to stereotypes like the neglectful mother or one-dimensional bigots, which flattens the story's emotional depth.
The series also faces backlash for its handling of social issues. Critics have pointed to its depiction of homophobia and transphobia as cartoonish, with antagonists portrayed as exaggerated caricatures rather than complex figures. This approach undermines the show's ability to meaningfully address prejudice. Additionally, some have criticized its casting choices, particularly the decision to cast a male actor as Byron, which has fueled debates about authenticity and representation among both feminist and gender identity activist circles.
Finally, the show's attempt to blend raw social commentary with nostalgic Y2K aesthetics feels disjointed. The club scene and cultural references are vivid but often overshadow the story's substance, leaving it feeling like a stylistic exercise rather than a coherent drama. The conventional resolution-a redemptive arc involving incarceration and loss-feels tacked on, failing to reconcile the earlier chaos with meaningful growth.
In short, What It Feels Like for a Girl aims for bold storytelling but falters with its provocative tone, shallow characterizations, and questionable framing of complex issues. It's a series that tries to provoke but ends up alienating more than it enlightens.
I can understand how parts of Byron's experience may feel foreign to some viewers, but for anyone who came of age gay, trans, or queer around the turn of the millennium, this is a profound and often heartbreaking ride through our collective memory.
I saw myself in the gifted young gay boy who learned to wield wit as both armor and weapon, keeping me safe, pushing others away, and occasionally landing me in trouble. I was lucky enough to be more of a nerd, excelling in school early on and spared some of Byron's pain. But later in life, I too discovered how seductive the gay party scene can become.
So many of us have lived those questionable love affairs, those dizzying moments of clarity ("this is definitely not the room I want to be in") and yet also the euphoria of finding your people. A place where your femininity can finally exhale. Where a sharp tongue and a willingness to say yes to chaos feels like a skeleton key to every door.
The acting here is sublime: heart-wrenching and exquisitely funny. The settings are often bleak, rundown, almost depressing, yet pulsing with life. The glamour exists only in their heads, their hearts, and the chemical-fueled escapes from reality. The director and creative team captured every nuance.
I created an account just to write this review. I was that moved.
The only bad thing is that it's over in eight episodes.
I saw myself in the gifted young gay boy who learned to wield wit as both armor and weapon, keeping me safe, pushing others away, and occasionally landing me in trouble. I was lucky enough to be more of a nerd, excelling in school early on and spared some of Byron's pain. But later in life, I too discovered how seductive the gay party scene can become.
So many of us have lived those questionable love affairs, those dizzying moments of clarity ("this is definitely not the room I want to be in") and yet also the euphoria of finding your people. A place where your femininity can finally exhale. Where a sharp tongue and a willingness to say yes to chaos feels like a skeleton key to every door.
The acting here is sublime: heart-wrenching and exquisitely funny. The settings are often bleak, rundown, almost depressing, yet pulsing with life. The glamour exists only in their heads, their hearts, and the chemical-fueled escapes from reality. The director and creative team captured every nuance.
I created an account just to write this review. I was that moved.
The only bad thing is that it's over in eight episodes.
"What It Feels Like For A Girl" is the rare kind of TV series that seduces you slowly, then grabs you by the throat. Set at the turn of the millennium-when Y2K panic loomed large, the AIDS crisis lingered like smoke, and analog queer culture was on the verge of being swallowed whole by the digital age-this show is raw, dangerous, and electrifyingly intimate.
At the heart of the story is Byron, a beguiling character who embodies the beauty and brutality of the era. Byron isn't just a protagonist-he's a symbol of everything queer youth was navigating at the time: homophobia, poverty, and an aching, desperate need to be seen. His connection with Liam, a magnetic hustler surviving on petty crimes and half-truths, is the emotional (and erotic) core of the series. Their relationship is both transactional and tragic, smoldering with longing, lust, and unspoken truths.
Stylistically, the series draws clear inspiration from Gregg Araki's Doom Generation and The Living End-with its gritty, neon-soaked atmosphere and rebellious queer edge. It flirts with danger at every turn, refusing to sanitize the eroticism, thrill, or pain of queer existence in pre-social media times. Cruising culture, clubbing, and the art of wordless seduction pulse throughout, giving the show a visceral, nostalgic charge.
The writing is sharp, the soundtrack is a time capsule of late-'90s melancholy and defiance, and the performances-especially from the leads-are captivating. It's messy. It's sexy. It's heart-wrenching. And most of all, it's real.
For anyone who lived through that era-or wants to understand it-What It Feels Like For A Girl isn't just must-watch TV. It's a cultural reckoning.
Imagine if Euphoria and Gregg Araki had a lovechild raised on zines, raves, and queer rage-this is it.
At the heart of the story is Byron, a beguiling character who embodies the beauty and brutality of the era. Byron isn't just a protagonist-he's a symbol of everything queer youth was navigating at the time: homophobia, poverty, and an aching, desperate need to be seen. His connection with Liam, a magnetic hustler surviving on petty crimes and half-truths, is the emotional (and erotic) core of the series. Their relationship is both transactional and tragic, smoldering with longing, lust, and unspoken truths.
Stylistically, the series draws clear inspiration from Gregg Araki's Doom Generation and The Living End-with its gritty, neon-soaked atmosphere and rebellious queer edge. It flirts with danger at every turn, refusing to sanitize the eroticism, thrill, or pain of queer existence in pre-social media times. Cruising culture, clubbing, and the art of wordless seduction pulse throughout, giving the show a visceral, nostalgic charge.
The writing is sharp, the soundtrack is a time capsule of late-'90s melancholy and defiance, and the performances-especially from the leads-are captivating. It's messy. It's sexy. It's heart-wrenching. And most of all, it's real.
For anyone who lived through that era-or wants to understand it-What It Feels Like For A Girl isn't just must-watch TV. It's a cultural reckoning.
Imagine if Euphoria and Gregg Araki had a lovechild raised on zines, raves, and queer rage-this is it.
Did you know
- TriviaParis Lees, the author of the memoir this series is based upon, makes a cameo appearance in episode 5 as "the shaman".
Details
- Release date
- Country of origin
- Also known as
- What It Feels Like for A Girl
- Filming locations
- 37 Old Arts College, Newport, Wales(Kev's House)
- Production companies
- See more company credits at IMDbPro
- Color
Contribute to this page
Suggest an edit or add missing content