How ‘The Deuce’ Is Fearlessly Embracing Female Sexuality

2017 has been something of a banner year for female sexuality on television; shows like Jane the Virgin, I Love Dick, The Handmaid’s Tale, Harlots, Top of the Lake, and more have put the wide spectrum of female sexuality on display for the world to see. HBO’s The Deuce, however, is innovating in a way that no show has done before. The frank depiction of prostitution and the rise of the porn industry in 1970s New York does not shy away from even the most painful aspects of being a woman, and manages to sensitively portray sex work and sexuality in equal measure.

From its very first episode, The Deuce has been demonstrating its understanding of women, sex, and sexuality in a refreshingly nuanced manner. The difficult subject matter – one that frequently sees women taken advantage of both physically and mentally – could have easily turned the series into gratuitous, misogynist fare, but The Deuce manages to avoid this plight by employing female directors and writers. Rather than allowing the male gaze to dominate scenes that are intended to capture a woman’s experience, The Deuce allows you to see her as a person – not an object. The depiction of sex work is one that deserves complexity and sensitivity, and with each installment, the series continues to expand its worldview and storytelling style to showcase the wide spectrum of experiences that exist in this industry.

The series’ fifth episode, “What Kind of Bad?”, took on entirely new territory when it saw streetwalker Candy (Maggie Gyllenhaal) go on a date with a man who was oblivious to her profession. While she is initially coy, she eventually sleeps with him, and in the first time since we’ve met her, she has sex for pleasure. It’s truly like day and night; until this moment, every time we’ve ever watched Candy engage in sexual activity, it’s been part of her work. She may put on a show, but as soon as her clients finish, she shrugs them off, gets her money, and gets out of there. In this scene, however, things are different – and it’s not made out to be salacious or titillating. She genuinely seems to want this, and when he finishes before she can orgasm, she turns over and begins masturbating. It’s a scene that could easily have objectified Candy and made her seem sex-crazed (as so many have), but instead, it’s intimate and vulnerable and human. She may have been a machine in the bedroom thus far, but deep down, she longs for connection and pleasure, just like the rest of us.

Candy isn’t the only one whose dynamic experience is depicted; from the vets to the rookies, we’re given glimpses into many of the central female characters’ lives and how they go about their lives – both sexual and otherwise. Two of the women secretly carry on a relationship with one another while also conning some customers out of extra cash. Darlene (Dominique Fishback) is given a ticket out of the industry that’s seen her get burned too many times, but finds her way back with a friend in tow. College drop-out Abby (Margarita Levieva) yearns for control, and gets her hands on some by stringing men like Vincent (James Franco) along.

Many of these women may not be The Deuce‘s focal points, but the acknowledgment that all of their experiences are valid and sympathetic feels damn-near radical. While it’s set in an era that tossed women around like a commodity and rarely granted them sexual autonomy, The Deuce manages to subvert expectations and instead give a previously-unseen look into the world of the female population that otherwise has been treated like an afterthought. The notion that women have wants and needs may be revolutionary in some contexts – but The Deuce doesn’t treat it that way.