Series: I May Destroy You
I May Destroy You by Michaela Coel
Warning: The following post involves mention of sexual assault.
In the midst of the greatest Black Lives Matter movement in history, writer, director and actor Michaela Coel bought to life the series we did not realise we needed. I May Destroy You a HBO/BBC One series based in Camden, London captures the often silenced issues of consent, sexual assault, race, gender and more. Not only this, but alongside comedic gags, enviable wardrobe and a fantastic soundtrack, Coel has executed a streamless representation of the repressed in a time when it is needed most.
The topical issues we see play out through the narrative of Coel’s first season present a modern day British representation of inequality that winds beautifully around itself through a small collection of relatable and personable characters. Writer and Twitter famous Arabella (Bella) Essiedu, played by Michaela Coel herself, is a relatable yet controversial main character. She is loud, impulsive and sometimes ignorant, yet as she goes through her personal journey post being sexuall assaulted, she represents the irrational humane motives of each of us. She makes mistakes, loses friends and sometimes spends more time on social media than in the moment. This is what makes her character so fantastic. She is electric, yet ordinary and a perfect representation of a woman tired of being repressed and treated as less than her male counterpart.
Bella’s best friend Terry Pratchard and struggling actor is played by Reanne Weruche Opia, who for me personally captures the ideal best friend that anyone could need in Bella’s circumstance. She is more than supportive of Bella as she looks into how she personally can help to improve her friend’s mental wellbeing after a traumatic event. Despite her struggling career she is well-rounded and deserves more than she gets throughout the season. It is through this unrequited understanding that Terry experiences racial bias, racism and white privilege first-hand, being asked to remove her wig for an audition and even in a flashback scene as a child, she claims with no sense of child-like naivety that “white girl tears [are] of high currency” when witnessing white supremacy in their school.
The final main character of this eye-opening series is Bella’s gay best friend, Kwame played by Paapa Essiedu. Kwame is the gentler of the three best friends, often quiet and subdued he seems to be the ‘third wheel’ of the trio up until half way through the season. Without releaving any spoilers, Coel’s utilisation of Kwame as a representative of an incredibly marginalised black gay community, beautifully encompasses a perspective of sexual assault that had never crossed my mind. Although I am ashamed to admit this, Kwame’s character provokes further engagement and education into racism than I had previously realised I needed. Despite Kwame’s narrative not being the main one in this series, it was personally the most thought provoking.
Throughout the season, as Arabella desperately tries to write her second book, the narrative explores how being marginalised in multiple factors does not add to equate the same being marginalised due to one factor. Black, gay, women for example are over three times more marginalised than myself as a white, straight woman. The subconscious and societially accepted aspects of this concept are deconstructed throughout the series. However, just as these prejudices and inequalities slip through the moral cracks of society, they seamlessly mirror this subconscious stream through the fluidity of narrative and the context of I May Destroy You.
My ultimate nod of appreciation goes towards Michaela Coel herself. As someone that has previously seen her in Chewing Gum and Been So Long, I was pleasantly surprised to find her writing and playing an entirely different thematic genre. Her hilarious and goofy character of Tracey Gordon seems to have blossomed into Arabella, a journey most women of her age can relate to. However, I May Destroy You was obviously a personal depiction and therefore a sensitive work of art. As Coel has stated in interviews since the series debut, the plot line of sexual assault was based on her own personal experience in 2018 from which she is still recovering. The raw openness of this creative process is highly commendable and definitely rare to see, which is why I believe it was so transparent through the series. Coel has taken her pain and turned it into something fantastic, and for that I can only respect her.
If you have seen this series and have something to say, please let me know in the comments! I would love to get a discussion going. Thanks for reading.






















