If you grew up in the nineties or early aughts, you probably remember a grandmotherly woman with sensible glasses and a Canadian accent holding up a vibrator like it was a kitchen spatula. That was Sue Johanson. She didn't whisper. She didn't blush. Honestly, she treated the most taboo topics of human intimacy with the same matter-of-fact tone most people use to describe a recipe for tuna casserole. Talk Sex with Sue wasn't just a TV show; it was a cultural lifeline for a generation that was getting plenty of "just say no" but zero actual information about how their bodies worked.
It’s weird to think about now, but before the internet became a firehose of (often questionable) information, Sue was the gold standard. She was a registered nurse who opened one of the first birth control clinics in Canada. She wasn't some shock-jock looking for ratings. She was a healthcare professional who realized that people were literally hurting themselves—physically and emotionally—because they were too embarrassed to ask basic questions.
The Straight-Talk Revolution of Sue Johanson
When Talk Sex with Sue made the jump from Canadian radio to the Sunday night lineup on Oxygen in the U.S., it hit like a lightning bolt. You have to remember the context. This was an era where sex ed in schools was largely focused on fear. Then comes Sue. She’d take calls from people of all ages, genders, and orientations, answering everything from the mundane to the wildly bizarre without a hint of judgment.
She had this "Granny Sue" persona that made her untouchable. Critics found it hard to stay angry at a woman who looked like she should be knitting a sweater while she explained the mechanics of a specific toy. She used proper anatomical terms—penis, vagina, anus—at a time when most people were still using silly nicknames. That was her secret weapon. By using clinical language in a cozy setting, she stripped away the shame.
Why the Sunday Night Ritual Stuck
For a lot of us, staying up late to watch Sue was a rite of passage. It was "must-see TV" because it felt dangerous but also weirdly safe. You'd hear a caller ask something you'd been wondering but were too terrified to Google (if you even had decent internet yet).
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Sue’s approach was rooted in harm reduction. She knew people were going to have sex. She knew they were going to experiment. Instead of wagging her finger, she gave them the "User Manual." She talked about consent, protection, and the importance of communication long before those became standard buzzwords in the wellness industry.
The Legacy of Information over Ideology
One of the most impressive things about Talk Sex with Sue was how it handled the LGBTQ+ community. This was 2002. Representation was thin. Yet, Sue treated a call from a gay man with the exact same respect and clinical accuracy as a call from a straight housewife. She was ahead of her time, basically. She didn't treat "alternative" lifestyles as a spectacle; she treated them as a reality of the human experience.
- She pioneered the "sex-positive" movement before the term was mainstream.
- The show emphasized that pleasure wasn't a "dirty" secret but a part of health.
- She frequently debunked myths that were—and still are—circulating in locker rooms.
It wasn't all just serious talk, though. The "Toy of the Week" segment was legendary. Seeing a senior citizen demonstrate how a localized massager worked with the enthusiasm of a QVC host selling a vacuum cleaner was pure comedy gold, but it served a purpose. It normalized the idea that sexual health includes self-care and exploration.
Dealing with the Critics and the Taboos
Of course, not everyone was a fan. Conservative groups were constantly at her throat. They claimed she was "promoting" promiscuity. Sue’s response was always the same: she wasn't promoting anything other than safety and knowledge. She famously said that if you don't give kids the facts, they'll make them up—and that's when things go wrong.
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The show eventually ended in 2008, but its DNA is everywhere now. From TikTok educators to sex-therapy podcasts, the "Sue Johanson style"—direct, empathetic, and factual—is the blueprint. But there's a difference. Today, we have too much info. In Sue's day, we had too little. She was the filter we needed.
Why We Still Need a "Sue" in the Age of the Internet
You’d think that with all the information available today, we wouldn't need a show like Talk Sex with Sue. But the internet is a mess of misinformation. For every factual medical site, there are ten forums spreading "hacks" that are actually dangerous. We’ve traded shame for confusion.
Sue provided something an algorithm can’t: a moral and ethical compass. She didn't just tell you how to do something; she talked about whether you were ready, how to talk to your partner about it, and how to handle it if things got awkward. She understood that sex isn't just a physical act; it’s a communication act.
The Educational Vacuum
Since her passing in 2023 at the age of 93, there’s been a lot of reflection on her impact. We’re seeing a rollback in comprehensive sex education in many places. The "Sue Johanson gap" is real. Young people are getting their "education" from adult films, which is like learning to drive by watching The Fast and the Furious. It’s not a reflection of reality.
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Sue's insistence on the "boring" parts—the importance of pelvic exams, the reality of STIs, the fact that things don't always work like they do in the movies—is exactly what’s missing from the current digital landscape. She was the antidote to the "performative" sex we see on social media today.
Practical Lessons We Can Still Take from Sue
If you’re looking to channel your inner Sue Johanson in your own life or relationships, it’s not about buying the latest gadgets. It’s about the mindset.
First, call things by their real names. Using slang creates a layer of "otherness" that makes it harder to talk to doctors or partners. Second, acknowledge that "normal" is a massive spectrum. If it’s consensual, safe, and makes you happy, Sue would probably give you a thumbs up.
Third, and maybe most importantly, never stop being a student of your own body. Sue was an RN who kept learning until the day she retired. She wasn't afraid to say, "I don't know, let me look that up," though honestly, she usually knew.
The impact of Talk Sex with Sue wasn't just in the ratings. It was in the thousands of people who felt less alone, less "broken," and more empowered to take control of their own health. She was the grandmother we all needed—the one who told us the truth because she actually cared about our well-being.
Actionable Takeaways for Modern Sexual Health
- Audit Your Sources: Stop taking advice from unverified social media "influencers." Stick to organizations like Planned Parenthood, the Mayo Clinic, or certified sex therapists (AASECT).
- Prioritize Communication: Before trying anything new, use the "Sue Method"—talk about it outside of the bedroom first. It's less awkward when you're both wearing clothes and have had coffee.
- Harm Reduction First: Always keep a supply of barrier methods and know your testing status. It’s not "unromantic"; it’s basic adult maintenance.
- Embrace the Awkward: If something goes wrong—and it will—laugh it off. Sue always reminded us that sex is a human activity, and humans are inherently clumsy and funny.
The best way to honor the legacy of Talk Sex with Sue is to keep the conversation going. Stop whispering. Ask the "dumb" questions. And for heaven's sake, if something hurts or feels wrong, go see a professional. That’s exactly what Sue would have told you.