When It's a Sin debuted on Channel 4, I pledged to wait a week to see the second instalment. All five episodes are available on All4, but it felt wise to space each one out, and watch them as they aired on TV. It is, after all, how TV is supposed to work, and besides, the emotional, gut-wrenching content of the first episode made it clear that spacing things out might be important for my emotional wellbeing. And yet, the internet discourse drove me to a binge session. I feared spoilers. I feared missing out on hot conversation topics on the water cooler of life that is Twitter. But, above all, I couldn't resist consuming such high quality television as quickly as possible. It's a Sin is beautifully written and impeccably acted. It is one of the most beautiful explorations of gay life that I have ever seen. Once the fifth, final episode has aired in a few weeks I will upload every single spoiler-laden thought in my brain. But, in the meantime, I want to talk about Jill. Very minor spoilers ahead.
If you are a gay man, I hope you have a Jill. In the first episode, she catches the eye of our protagonist, Ritchie - played beautifully by the bright-eyed and alarmingly talented Olly Alexander- and drags him gleefully into her life. She frequents the gay bars and queer spaces, introduces Ritchie to the eligible men in her life, and kickstarts his journey of self discovery. She is there for him throughout all the highs - the house parties, the performances, the laughs and loves - and the lows. In episode one, when Ritchie has a sexual mishap with the lustrous-haired Ash, he flees in tears to the only place where he knows he'll be looked after. He goes to Jill.
The spectre of AIDS descends in this first episode. It feels reasonable to reveal that this shadow grows in episode two and beyond. I won't get into specifics. But as the gay men of London battle uncertainty, pain and cruelty, Jill is there. Amidst the ignorance and violence that these young people face - sometimes with great bravery, but also with shame and fear - Jill is there. Indeed, Jill was there. Much has been made of the fact that the character played by Lydia Westis actually based on Jill Nalder (a friend of It's A Sin writer Russell T Davies) who plays her mum in several episodes. The casting choice is a lovely reminder of the power of allyship.
Jill has no skin in the game, so to speak. There is never any suggestion that she is a member of the LGBTQ+ community, not that it would have been referred to as such back then. Rather, she simply loves these men so much that their victories and defeats are her victories and defeats. Their cause is her cause. When they cannot stand up, she does. She hits the phones, does the research, attends the protests and the many, many funerals. She knows that she and the other Jills of the world are the time capsules left behind by the men who are dying silently in locked rooms.
The world has come a long way in the fight against AIDS. Being diagnosed as HIV+ is no longer the death sentence that it once was. But there are still Jills, who work to tackle the stigma against this disease and support those who are struggling. And it's not just about being on the frontline of something horrible and destructive. Jill, and her real-life counterparts, are also at our side at the Pride marches and in the queer spaces to which we still cling, signing the petitions, coming to our aid online or celebrating when challenges to our human rights are thwarted.
They're still checking that we're ok when they've seen our hearts break or witnessed a hate crime in action. Their lives would be easier, more comfortable, if they turned a blind eye. They could stick to the protests that directly impact cis women's rights. They might even have more fun in a space that contained a single straight man for them to pursue. They might have a nicer end to their evening if stepping in to support a stranger didn't lead to them being abused too. The younger members of the gay community may not fear imminent death and violence in the way that our elders did, but life still has its hurdles. And we still need our Jills. I don't know where I'd be without mine.
It's a Sin was originally supposed to be called Boys. It was changed last year, presumably because of the success of US superhero show The Boys. Whatever the reason, I'm so glad of the shift. Because It's a Sin is not just about the boys, these victims of a pandemic that was ignored so egregiously. It's also about the Jills. The girls who refused to look away as the world turned its back. So thanks to Lydia West, to Jill Nalder. To all the Jills. We'd be lost without you.
READ MORE: Grazia Review: It's A Sin, Russell T Davies' 1980s AIDS Crisis Drama