When I need my fix of horny queer women with complicated relationships with death and trauma, I typically turn to my favorite cannibals on Yellowjackets. But the third season ended earlier this month, and I need some emotional space before I go back for my rewatch. I had seen one of my favorite comedians, Sabrina Wu (Joyride, Abbott Elementary), post on their story that they worked on a new Hulu show I hadn’t heard of called Dying For Sex. The show follows Molly (Michelle Williams), who sets out to have the horniest last five years of her life after she is diagnosed with terminal cancer, supported by a group of lesbians and Jenny Slate. Hole = filled.
Dying For Sex exceeded my expectations in how they portrayed death, women’s pleasure, disability, queerness, friendship, trauma, and everything else they manage to accomplish in eight short episodes. Michelle Williams and Jenny Slate are such strong leads, and both deliver breathtaking performances, but I couldn’t help but to find a pattern in the supporting characters who played such important roles in Molly’s end of life care: They were all queer women. Okay. Not every single one, but four. And four is more than enough for me to write about it on Autostraddle.
Esco Jouléy plays Sonya, the palliative care worker assigned to Molly’s (Michelle Williams) case at the hospital. She’s new to the job, fresh out of grad school, but is a natural. She reminded me of the many queer women in the social work program at my grad school and, like those women did for me, Sonya assists Molly in her sexual liberation. How? You may ask. By giving her a giant bottle of lube and bringing her to a queer, polyamorous, consent-informed sex party potluck. Sonya is also gentle and smart and uses her incredible communication skills to guide Molly through her treatment in a way her best friend and doctor cannot: by using her lesbionic emotional intelligence.
Sonya invites Molly and Nikki (Jenny Slate) to the aforementioned multi-hyphenate sex party so that Molly can figure out what kind of sex she wants to be having. At the party, Molly appears to be overwhelmed by it all, and we think she might bail. But then she stumbles upon a kink demonstration performed by Sonya’s ex G (Robby Hoffman), who is domming a woman laying on a table. Molly looks like she may start to have a panic attack, but really she’s just loving what she’s seeing. “That,” she says. “I want to do that.”
She is nothing if not ambitious but ultimately has a bit of trouble adjusting to the new role. She turns to G, who tells her that in order to effectively dom, she must first sub. Molly is reluctant at first but eventually grows desperate, so she lets G show her the ropes (literally) in the backhouse of the home goods store G works at. This is a role for Hoffman that I’ve never seen her in before: gentle, confident yet kind, and honestly, really sexy.
We could of course categorize this moment shared between Molly and G as sexual and celebrate that the lead is queer, but it’s not that simple. Molly is there as a BDSM student, as someone so desperate to fulfill themselves sexually before they die, and G just happens to be the right person to teach her. I think that G’s experience and, dare I say, success, as a dom is most definitely informed by their queerness, and I’m glad they were the one to show Molly. Even if it was on company time and most definitely caught on a security camera.
Maragret Cho plays a member of Molly’s terminal cancer support group in two episodes. In a classic Cho performance, she is sarcastic, playful, and comforting, which, at times, is much needed. I wish we could have seen more of Cho in Dying For Sex, but the limited screentime we do get with her, is really special. And I’m sure that’s how it felt for Molly, too, when she just needed to laugh at a poop joke during group.
Paula Pell is positively delightful as Molly’s straight-to-the-point hospice care nurse. Only appearing in the finale, she manages to provide a big, yet not distracting, comedic relief in an otherwise devastating episode. Pell’s character signaled a shift in Molly’s health and, therefore, the show, when she was introduced upon learning Molly’s prognosis went from years to weeks. Pell’s character explains to Molly what is going to happen to her when she begins to die. She loves death, or the science of it, and even shares her favorite part. Similar to Cho’s character, I feel as though Pell was placed in this show at a time where Molly really needed some no-bullshit care. But I can’t help but to feel like they were both chosen to comfort the audience, too.
Trans and queer comedian Sabrina Wu co-wrote episode seven, “Happy Holidays,” which is one of the most beautiful episodes of television I’ve ever watched. The episode explores a threat to Molly and Nikki’s friendship in a way I haven’t experienced emotionally since my first Booksmart watch. As a horror fan, one of the scariest things for me to watch are blow up fight scenes between two women best friends when both are in the right and both are in the wrong. Hug it out! Please! Kiss! This type of scene is also so inherently queer, but not quite as queer as the scene that inevitably follows: the best friendship make up.
I know that it’d be even cooler for a lesbian to play the lead role in a big streaming show, but I’m really not mad about the representation in Dying For Sex. I also can’t see anyone else playing Molly other than Michelle Williams. When queer stereotypes are employed, which happens very minimally on the show, they are in celebration of queerness rather than judgement. Plus, I’ve totally been to a queer, polyamorous, consent-informed sex party potluck where my ex is also in attendance.
All in all, Dying For Sex is a really beautiful, worthwhile, and queer watch, despite not being promoted or referred to as a queer show.
