For four years, Bridgerton has shattered Netflix streaming records as it introduced black aristocrats into the 19th century nobility of England, deflowered panting virgins who only learn how babies are made after steamy sessions of coitus interruptus, and showed the court debut of five of the eight siblings born to the titular dowager Viscountess Violet Bridgerton. It’s campy, sappy, and utterly anachronistic with its colorblind casting and orchestral covers of contemporary pop. Still, the series, based on the book series by Julia Quinn, hewed closely enough to the timeless tropes of the Regency romance genre that it felt fantastical.
But Bridgerton has finally crossed the woke Rubicon in its embrace of the cardinal lie of identity politics: that while race is essential, gender is meaningless to the core of a character.
