Fleabag’s Godmother: The Stepmother as Symbol

POP CULTURE & TRAUMA • May 20, 2026

Last reviewed: June 2026 by Annie Wright, LMFT

In short: A daughter’s grief at her father’s remarriage is disenfranchised grief: the loss is clinically real but culturally invisible, leaving her without permission to mourn what actually changed.

The Stepmother’s Introduction: A Study in Discomfort

The clinking of silverware on porcelain, the forced smiles, the thinly veiled barbs. The family dinners in ‘Fleabag’ are a masterclass in relational tension. From the moment Olivia Colman’s character, the passive-aggressive stepmother, enters the frame, you feel an immediate sense of unease. She’s not just a new wife; she’s an unwelcome disruption, a living embodiment of the ‘new normal’ that Fleabag never asked for. Her presence isn’t merely annoying; it’s a constant, grating reminder of what’s been lost and what can never be recovered. This isn’t just about a personality clash; it’s about the profound psychological impact of a parent moving on, especially when the child is still reeling from significant loss.

You might recognize this dynamic from your own life or from the stories of clients you know. The way a new partner can inadvertently, or sometimes quite intentionally, exacerbate existing family wounds is palpable. It’s not always overt hostility; often, it’s the subtle undermining, the quiet erasure of history, or the appropriation of shared memories that cuts the deepest. These moments, often dismissed as ‘just family drama,’ are anything but trivial. They represent significant emotional challenges, and understanding them is crucial for healing. What are the unspoken rules of engagement when a new person enters a grieving family system?

The stepmother’s character serves as a potent symbol of disenfranchised grief. Fleabag’s pain over her mother’s death, and later her best friend Boo’s suicide, is constantly minimized or ignored by her father and, by extension, his new wife. This isn’t just about being sad; it’s about having your profound loss dismissed, making it incredibly difficult to process. When society, or even your own family, doesn’t acknowledge the legitimacy of your grief, it leaves you isolated and alone in your suffering. This lack of validation can lead to complicated grief, where healing becomes stalled and the pain lingers, often manifesting in destructive behaviors, much like we see in Fleabag’s life.

Think about it: how often do we expect children, even adult children, to simply ‘get over’ a parent’s death, especially when a new relationship blossoms? There’s an unspoken societal pressure to be ‘happy for them,’ even if it means burying your own complex feelings. This expectation can be incredibly damaging, forcing you to compartmentalize your grief and pretend that everything is fine. But emotions don’t just disappear; they fester, finding other outlets. The stepmother, in her relentless pursuit of domestic bliss and social standing, unwittingly becomes the lightning rod for Fleabag’s unexpressed sorrow and rage. It’s a powerful portrayal of how family trauma can play out on screen.

Grief Disenfranchised: When Loss Isn’t Acknowledged

The art-show episode is, in my view, the clinical peak of the series when it comes to understanding the stepmother’s symbolic role. Here, the stepmother not only displays a portrait of Fleabag’s deceased mother. A deeply personal and intimate image. But she also claims it as her own work, altering it just enough to make it ‘hers.’ This act isn’t just plagiarism; it’s a profound betrayal trauma. It’s an appropriation of Fleabag’s mother, her memory, and her very identity. You can almost feel the visceral shock and violation that Fleabag experiences, and it perfectly encapsulates the subtle yet devastating ways a step-parent can infringe upon a child’s sacred emotional space.

Imagine the psychological impact of someone taking a cherished memory of your deceased parent and twisting it for their own gain. It’s a violation that goes beyond mere disrespect; it’s an assault on your internal world. This scene brilliantly illustrates how the stepmother isn’t just an annoying character; she represents the systemic invalidation of Fleabag’s grief and her right to her own mother’s legacy. The stepmother’s actions, while seemingly petty, are deeply symbolic of the larger societal tendency to erase or diminish the emotional landscape of those who are grieving, especially when it inconveniences others or disrupts a new narrative.

The stepmother’s character also embodies the ‘replacement’ narrative that often accompanies a parent’s new relationship. It’s as if, by stepping into the role of ‘mother figure,’ she believes she can also step into the emotional space of the deceased mother, erasing the previous occupant. This is a common, albeit often unconscious, dynamic that can be incredibly painful for children. It suggests that their original parent, and the bond they shared, is somehow interchangeable or easily forgotten. This can trigger feelings of abandonment, anger, and a profound sense of injustice, leaving you feeling like your history is being rewritten without your consent.

This particular episode is a masterclass in showing, not telling, the insidious nature of emotional manipulation and gaslighting within families. The stepmother’s calm demeanor and the father’s unwitting complicity make Fleabag’s outrage seem disproportionate to outsiders, yet we, the viewers, are privy to the depth of her pain. It’s a powerful commentary on how victims of emotional abuse are often made to feel like they are ‘overreacting,’ further isolating them. This dynamic is a crucial aspect of understanding how maternal wounds and family trauma manifest, even when the mother is no longer physically present.

The Art Show: A Clinical Peak of Betrayal

The stepmother, in many ways, acts as a distorted mirror for Fleabag, reflecting back her own unresolved wounds, particularly those related to her mother. The stepmother’s superficiality, her need for external validation, and her subtle aggressions can be seen as exaggerated versions of traits Fleabag herself struggles with, albeit in different forms. This isn’t to say they are the same, but rather that the stepmother’s presence forces Fleabag to confront aspects of her own internal landscape that she might otherwise avoid. It’s an uncomfortable, yet ultimately necessary, catalyst for her growth and self-discovery.

Consider Kira, a composite client who struggled immensely when her father remarried. Kira felt her stepmother, much like Fleabag’s, was a constant reminder of her mother’s absence and a threat to her cherished memories. Kira described feeling ‘erased’ from her own family history, as if her stepmother was trying to replace not just her mother, but also Kira’s role as the eldest daughter. This dynamic is deeply painful because it attacks a person’s sense of belonging and identity within their own family system. It’s a form of collateral damage that often goes unacknowledged.

Sarah, another composite client, experienced similar feelings of displacement, but with a different twist. Her stepmother, while outwardly kind, would subtly undermine Sarah’s choices and opinions, always with a sweet smile. Sarah felt she couldn’t express her frustration without appearing ‘ungrateful’ or ‘difficult.’ This form of passive aggression is incredibly insidious because it leaves the victim questioning their own perceptions and sanity. It’s a classic tactic that creates an environment of emotional instability, making it hard to trust your own instincts. This is why understanding these relational dynamics is so vital in therapy.

These experiences highlight how the stepmother figure can become a repository for all the anger, grief, and frustration that a daughter might not feel safe expressing directly to her father. The stepmother, by virtue of her position, often becomes the ‘bad guy,’ even if her intentions aren’t always malicious. This triangulation can prevent genuine communication and healing within the family system, perpetuating cycles of resentment and misunderstanding. It’s a complex dance of unmet needs and unspoken pain, often masked by polite smiles and strained pleasantries. This is precisely why exploring these themes in executive coaching can be so impactful.

The Stepmother as Mirror: Reflecting Unresolved Wounds

The power of the gaze in ‘Fleabag’ is undeniable, and the stepmother character is often at the receiving end of Fleabag’s direct address to the camera. This breaking of the fourth wall is not just a comedic device; it’s a clinical tool that allows us to witness Fleabag’s internal monologue, her unfiltered reactions to the absurdity and pain of her family life. When the stepmother is on screen, Fleabag’s asides often highlight the hypocrisy, the narcissism, and the sheer audacity of her stepmother’s actions. This allows us to empathize with Fleabag’s disenfranchised grief and understand why she feels so isolated.

Who gets to be seen, truly seen, in this family? It’s clear that Fleabag often feels invisible, her pain unacknowledged, her voice unheard. The stepmother, on the other hand, thrives on being seen and admired, meticulously curating her image and her art. This contrast underscores a fundamental power imbalance: the person who controls the narrative often controls the emotional reality. Fleabag’s direct address to us, the audience, becomes her only outlet for validation, a desperate plea to be witnessed in her truth, even if her family refuses to see it. It’s a poignant illustration of how trauma can make you feel unseen.

This dynamic of being seen versus unseen is a common thread in families where grief and trauma are unaddressed. When a parent moves on quickly, or a new partner enters the scene, the children’s emotional needs can inadvertently be pushed aside. The focus shifts to the new couple, their happiness, their future, leaving the children feeling like relics of a past that everyone else is eager to forget. This can lead to profound feelings of abandonment and a sense that their emotional landscape is not important. It’s a subtle form of neglect that can have long-lasting effects on self-worth.

The stepmother’s character, therefore, isn’t just an individual; she’s a representation of the societal expectation that grief should be tidy, contained, and quickly overcome, especially when a new relationship is blooming. Her presence forces Fleabag, and by extension, us, to question these unspoken rules. What happens when your grief doesn’t fit into the neat boxes society provides? What happens when the people who are supposed to support you are actively, or passively, undermining your healing process? These are critical questions for anyone navigating complex family dynamics, and something I explore in my course.

This is why trauma scholars such as Judith Herman, MD and Bessel van der Kolk, MD are useful companions for reading pop culture: both make clear, in different ways, that trauma is not only an event in the past but a present-tense pattern in the body, relationships, memory, and agency. Their work helps keep the analysis grounded in clinical humility rather than turning art into a diagnostic parlor game.

The Power of the Gaze: Who Gets to Be Seen?

Both/And: Empathy for the Stepmother, Validation for Fleabag. While the stepmother is undeniably a challenging character, it’s important to approach her portrayal with a nuanced understanding. She, too, is a product of her own experiences and perhaps her own unmet needs. Her desire for acceptance, for a stable family, and for artistic recognition, while often misguided and self-serving, stems from a human place. This doesn’t excuse her actions, but it allows for a more complex view of the family system. True healing often requires acknowledging the humanity in everyone involved, even those who have caused us pain.

This ‘both/and’ perspective is crucial in trauma recovery. It’s not about condoning harmful behavior, but about understanding the underlying dynamics that contribute to it. The stepmother might be seen as a self-absorbed mother figure, but even self-absorption often masks deeper insecurities. By holding space for her potential vulnerabilities, even as we validate Fleabag’s very real suffering, we move beyond a simplistic good-versus-evil narrative. This allows for a more expansive understanding of family systems and the complex interplay of individual psychologies within them.

It’s a delicate balance to strike: validating your own pain and anger while also recognizing the potential humanity in the person who caused it. This isn’t about forgiveness if you’re not ready; it’s about expanding your perspective to see the larger picture. Often, people who inflict emotional pain are themselves wounded, perpetuating cycles they’ve learned. This doesn’t absolve them, but it can help you detach from the personal sting and understand the systemic patterns at play. This kind of insight is invaluable for breaking free from those patterns and reclaiming your peace.

Ultimately, the show doesn’t ask us to forgive the stepmother, but it does invite us to consider the complexities of human relationships, even the most toxic ones. It challenges us to look beyond the surface and ask what drives people to behave the way they do. This deeper inquiry is where true healing begins, allowing you to move beyond the immediate pain and into a space of greater understanding and, eventually, liberation. This nuanced perspective is something I often encourage in my work with clients.

In one composite clinical vignette, Maya (name and details have been changed for confidentiality) noticed that the story stayed with her because it mirrored a private pattern she had normalized for years: staying articulate, useful, and calm while her body kept registering threat. The point was not to diagnose a character or herself from the couch. It was to use the story as a safer third object, a way to say, “Something about this feels familiar,” before she was ready to say the whole thing directly.

In one composite clinical vignette, Nadia (name and details have been changed for confidentiality) noticed that the story stayed with her because it mirrored a private pattern she had normalized for years: staying articulate, useful, and calm while her body kept registering threat. The point was not to diagnose a character or herself from the couch. It was to use the story as a safer third object, a way to say, “Something about this feels familiar,” before she was ready to say the whole thing directly.

Both/And: Empathy for the Stepmother, Validation for Fleabag

The Systemic Lens: Family Trauma and the New Normal. Looking at ‘Fleabag’ through a systemic lens reveals how the entire family system is impacted by the mother’s death and the father’s subsequent remarriage. It’s not just Fleabag who is struggling; her sister Claire, her father, and even the stepmother are all navigating a new, unstable equilibrium. The family attempts to create a ‘new normal’ without adequately processing the old losses, leading to a brittle facade that cracks under pressure. This is a classic pattern in families experiencing significant trauma or loss.

When a new partner enters a family system that hasn’t fully grieved, they often step into a pre-existing void, but also into a minefield of unspoken expectations and unresolved emotions. The stepmother, in this context, becomes a symptom of the family’s inability to openly address their grief. She represents the family’s collective attempt to ‘move on’ without doing the necessary emotional work. This often leads to a phenomenon where the pain of the past gets projected onto the new person, making them a scapegoat for deeper, systemic issues.

The father’s role in this dynamic is also crucial. His passive acceptance of his new wife’s behavior, and his inability to truly see or validate Fleabag’s pain, perpetuates the cycle of disenfranchisement. He prioritizes his new relationship and his own comfort over the emotional well-being of his daughters, particularly Fleabag. This parental neglect, even if unintentional, is a significant source of trauma for children, leaving them feeling unsupported and alone in their struggles. It’s a powerful illustration of how parental figures can inadvertently become emotionally engulfing parents, even in their absence.

From a systemic perspective, the stepmother isn’t just an individual antagonist; she’s a crucial piece of the puzzle that reveals the family’s dysfunctional patterns. Her presence forces these patterns into the open, creating opportunities for confrontation and, eventually, change. While painful, these confrontations are often necessary for the family to begin to heal and establish healthier ways of relating. Understanding these dynamics is a core component of my newsletter content, where I delve into complex family systems and their impact on individual well-being.

The Systemic Lens: Family Trauma and the New Normal

Reclaiming Your Narrative: The journey of healing, much like Fleabag’s, involves reclaiming your own story from those who have tried to rewrite it. It means acknowledging your pain, validating your grief, and asserting your right to your own memories and experiences. This is a process of fierce self-advocacy, often requiring you to confront uncomfortable truths and challenge long-held family dynamics. It’s about saying, ‘This is my truth, and it matters,’ even if others don’t want to hear it. This is a vital step in moving from victim to survivor, and something I often guide clients through.

Your story, your memories, and your feelings are valid, regardless of whether others acknowledge them. The stepmother in ‘Fleabag’ serves as a stark reminder of what happens when these fundamental needs are denied. By understanding her symbolic role, you can gain insight into your own family dynamics and begin the courageous work of healing. If you’re ready to explore these themes in your own life and reclaim your narrative, I invite you to connect with me. Your journey towards a handmade and meaningful life is waiting to unfold. Take my quiz to learn more about your attachment style.

Moving Forward: Reclaiming Your Narrative

In my work with clients, this pattern rarely arrives with a neat label. It arrives as exhaustion, over-responsibility, a body that can’t settle, and a life that looks more functional from the outside than it feels on the inside.

In my work with clients, this pattern rarely arrives with a neat label. It arrives as exhaustion, over-responsibility, a body that can’t settle, and a life that looks more functional from the outside than it feels on the inside.

In my work with clients, this pattern rarely arrives with a neat label. It arrives as exhaustion, over-responsibility, a body that can’t settle, and a life that looks more functional from the outside than it feels on the inside.

In my work with clients, this pattern rarely arrives with a neat label. It arrives as exhaustion, over-responsibility, a body that can’t settle, and a life that looks more functional from the outside than it feels on the inside.

Clinically, this is where Fleabag’s Godmother: The Stepmother as Symbol becomes useful rather than merely interesting. When I sit with driven women who recognize themselves in this kind of story, the work is rarely about deciding whether a character was good or bad. The more useful question is what your body learned to do in the presence of love, danger, obligation, longing, and shame. That question belongs beside deeper resources such as C1 C5 S24 M17, because the cultural text is only the doorway; the real work is learning what your own nervous system has been carrying.

I also want to name the two composite threads I hear in this material. Kira might be the client who can describe everyone else’s pain with astonishing precision but loses language when her own need enters the room. Sarah might be the client who has built an impressive life around never asking too directly for care. Neither woman is broken. Both adapted intelligently to relational conditions that made direct wanting feel dangerous, selfish, or too costly to risk.

The healing edge is often quieter than people expect. It may look like noticing the moment you reach for competence instead of comfort, pausing before you explain someone else’s harm away, or letting another trustworthy person witness what you have been privately metabolizing for years. Those moments can seem small, but they are not superficial. They are foundation-level repairs to the beliefs, emotional regulation patterns, attachment expectations, and body memories that shape whether adult intimacy feels possible or perilous.

This is why pop culture can matter therapeutically. A story can put language around something that has felt wordless. It can help you see the pattern from a safer distance before you are ready to name it in yourself. And if that recognition stirs grief, anger, relief, or tenderness, that response deserves respect. Your reaction may be information from a part of you that has been waiting for a less lonely way to tell the truth.

Related Reading

• Waller-Bridge, Phoebe. (Creator). (2016-2019). Fleabag [TV series]. Two Brothers Pictures.
• Estés, Clarissa Pinkola. (1992). Women Who Run With the Wolves: Myths and Stories of the Wild Woman Archetype. Ballantine Books.
• Herman, Judith Lewis. (1992). Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence, From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror. Basic Books.
• Doka, Kenneth J. (2002). Disenfranchised Grief: New Directions, Challenges, and Strategies for Practice. Research Press.

References

Peer-Reviewed Research (Vancouver)

1. Cloitre M, Stolbach BC, Herman JL, van der Kolk B, Pynoos R, Wang J, et al. A developmental approach to complex PTSD: childhood and adult cumulative trauma as predictors of symptom complexity. J Trauma Stress. 2009;22(5):399-408. doi:10.1002/jts.20444. PMID: 19795402.
2. Gómez JM, Smith CP, Gobin RL, Tang SS, Freyd JJ. Collusion, torture, and inequality: Understanding the actions of the American Psychological Association as institutional betrayal. J Trauma Dissociation. 2016;17(5):527-544. PMID: 27427782.
3. van der Kolk BA, Wang JB, Yehuda R, Bedrosian L, Coker AR, Harrison C, et al. Effects of MDMA-assisted therapy for PTSD on self-experience. PLoS One. 2024;19(1):e0295926. doi:10.1371/journal.pone.0295926. PMID: 38198456.

Books & Cultural Sources (Chicago Author-Date)

• Oliver, Mary. Devotions. Little, Brown Book Group Limited, 2017.

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