Trigger warning: mentions of rape and sexual assault
*SPOILERS AHEAD*
“We became the generation interested in ourselves. We have no problem with self-involvement. They call us vain; we say we must have got it somewhere, so technically we’re blameless, so we’re monstrous and shameless, look at us while we’re talking to you. We are the generation that decided we should be looked at. No more to documentaries of undiscovered worlds, of undercover investigations, of unreported people. We are the generation that decided, if you won’t look at us, we’ll look at ourselves.”
Arabella, a writer and social media influencer, reads aloud from a draft on her laptop screen. There is blood on her face and she is visibly distraught. Following a night out in London with friends, she is left with fragments of a memory of her sexual assault and must now navigate a non-linear and oftentimes ugly recovery. In only 12 episodes, creator Michaela Coel investigates trauma and the ways in which it manifests itself.
Rather than identifying the attacker straight away and solving the mystery, Coel instead keeps him nameless and faceless until the very end. In this, she is able to shed light on the more ambiguous violations of consent that do just as much damage. This might be in consensual sex turned non-consensual in a matter of seconds, as in Kwame’s case. It then becomes something more discreet, like a series of intrusive and intimate questions asked of Terry, Arabella’s best friend, by a director in a casting call. Instead of pointing the finger and therefore the focus of the show outward, to the attacker, Coel points the finger inward towards the victims. In this, she explores consent in a way unlike anything else I have seen. The healing of the central characters does not happen quickly, and it is constantly fluctuating. It is so necessary to have a depiction of trauma that addresses the many things that are not talked about. Coel presents the often performative aspects of self-care and attempts at healing, particularly in the awkward group therapy sessions. Moments of comedy make Arabella’s more personal moments of healing all the more cathartic, and most importantly relatable.
While the UK has been on lockdown, I have been forced to look at myself with an unwelcome clarity. I had not stopped for a second to think about who I am now, for my days had always been filled. While ‘I May Destroy You’ was a difficult watch, it was an essential one. It is easy to minimise our problems, just to avoid making someone (even if that someone is yourself) uncomfortable. That is what Coel does so well. ‘I May Destroy You’ is not about the crime that takes place. It is about the ways in which Arabella confronts her trauma and as a result recovers from it. It is about being a good friend and a bad one, a victim and a perpetrator. It is only through talking about our trauma, that we are able to heal. Coel does not flinch as other writers might as she traces the ways in which trauma manifests itself and the processes of recovery that follow, however bumpy the ride may be.
- I May Destroy You Instagram Post
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