Netflix’s female leads are always running from themselves
Netflix has a type. It is not just the genre or the plot, but also their female leads. Women who are messy, magnetic, and almost always plotting some kind of quiet escape. You watch enough of the shows on offer, and you start to notice a pattern. These female leads are not running from villains; they are running from who they used to be. From grief, guilt, pain, or simply from the version of themselves, they can no longer hold up. And this emotional sprint has become Netflix’s unofficial genre.
Take The Queen’s Gambit. Beth Harmon is not just a prodigy but a girl abandoned, addicted, and spiralling. Chess is her battlefield, but her real opponent is her memory. Every win is a distraction, and every move is a coping mechanism. Beth, like many Netflix female leads, is addicted to running, not on her feet, but with her mind.
In The Haunting of Hill House, Nell is not just haunted by ghosts but also by what the house took from her, including her childhood, her mother and her sense of safety. The show gives us horror, yes, but the real horror is how many years she spends avoiding the version of herself who never left that night. Her entire life becomes a loop, and like many of the other female leads we have come to know, Nell cannot escape because part of her does not want to.
Maeve Wiley in Sex Education is the classic tough girl with abandonment issues, of which the streaming giant has many. Maeve uses sarcasm like a sword and love like a trapdoor. She is one of those female leads who does not trust happiness. She believes it will vanish, like everything else in her life. So she runs before that happens: before Otis can love her properly, or before her friendships get too real.
In Who Is Erin Carter?, Erin (AKA Sofia) is literally living a lie. But beyond the action scenes and suspense, it is a story about erasing who you were and hoping no one notices the holes in your new story. Netflix loves female leads like Erin, who are women who fake peace but live in fear of being found out. Their past is not just something they have left behind; it is something that still defines them, quietly.
Alyssa from The End of the F**king World fits right into this gallery of emotional runners. She is loud, bitter, and always three seconds away from exploding, but it is all a cover. Her anger is not aimless but an armour. Alyssa has seen abandonment, neglect, and disappointment up close, and instead of processing it, she powers through with sarcasm and recklessness. She tells you she does not care, but every line is a scream for safety. The streamer’s female leads often find their power in vulnerability, but Alyssa spends two seasons trying to hide hers until she can no longer.
And then there is Anna Delvey from Inventing Anna. Technically a con artist, practically a myth. Netflix gives her the kind of screen time usually reserved for tortured geniuses or misunderstood rebels. Regardless, Anna is different. She is not running from grief or love or shame. She is running from being average. She builds lies like luxury towers, hoping that if she believes in them long enough, they will stay up strong. She reinvents herself so obsessively that she even forgets what the truth looked like. But here is the thing: underneath the accents, wire frauds, and courtroom drama, she is still just another woman terrified of being unremarkable. And that fear makes for the perfect female lead.
Even in quieter titles like Pieces of a Woman, Lady Chatterley’s Lover, or Maid, we see female leads carrying more than the plot. They carry trauma on their shoulders, shame in their silences. They leave people, change cities, and switch jobs, falling in and out of love. But underneath, they are all doing the same thing: trying to rewrite their origin story.
Netflix’s female leads are not aspirational. They are emotional mirrors, flawed, dramatic, confused, and full of contradictions. But that is what makes them addictive. You do not just watch them; you relate. You flinch when they self-sabotage. You cheer when they finally stop running. You get annoyed when they go back. All this because you get it, for they embody something which is raw, real and relatable.
And that is the secret sauce. These female leads do not need a big villain. They are their own obstacle course. They are chaotic in ways we are trained to hide. They drink too much, say the wrong thing, love the wrong person, and regret it all five minutes later. Netflix does not fix them but just lets them run while we quietly keep watching, hoping they break the patterns.
Because, maybe, we are all doing it too.