Comment Editor Abby Spreadborough is stunned by profundity of this TV series about a sexual assault survivor, and discusses how she relates to its plot on a personal level
Content Warning: this article discusses sexual assault, which may be disturbing for some readers.
*Major Spoilers Ahead*
‘I thought you were writing about consent,’ says Zain (Karan Gill) to Arabella (Michaela Coel), the protagonist of the critically acclaimed drama I May Destroy You. Hesitating and staring at the notes pieced together on her bedroom wall, she responds ‘so did I.’ It is clear to Arabella and to us as viewers that this pioneering show is not simply about consent but everything that surrounds it. She delves deep into the dreaded grey area exploring what happens when a survivor does not consent, when consent is withdrawn and even conditional consent. But while I May Destroy you probes, interrogates and even explodes this theme in all its multifaceted complexity, it never caves to convention or cliché. The show’s commitment to realism is stunning, not only in the brutality it depicts but also in the unexpected joy and humour which accompanies it.
The show’s commitment to realism is stunning, not only in the brutality it depicts but also in the unexpected joy and humour which accompanies it
Michaela Coel’s drama is centred around Arabella’s life-changing drug induced sexual assault. On the eve of her deadline for a book draft she decides to get a drink with some friends but ends up being spiked by a stranger. Before reporting her rape, she slowly pieces together what has happened through fragmented flashbacks and questioning her friends (who it is later revealed left her). When interviewed by investigators she is calm and collected and the day following the assault she carries on with life – meeting with friends, her literary agents and not stopping to take a break. While to some this may seem unnatural even abnormal, this is often the case for many victims and certainly was for myself. Few women are found directly after an assault has been perpetrated. Instead they emerge into consciousness which is at once jarring and traumatic. It is then left to survivors to be their own investigators. In fact, Arabella’s delayed emotional response and realisation of the gravity of that night’s events is an under-represented reality.
This central event was lifted directly from creator Michaela Coels’ own experience. When giving the Mactaggart Lecture, Coel revealed she had been spiked in similar circumstances the night before her script for Chewing Gum was due. She said, ‘The first people I called after the police, before my own family, were the producers,’ before adding that the company were ‘teetering back and forth between the line of knowing what normal human empathy is and not knowing what empathy is at all.’ This inability to humanely address assault is seen in I May Destroy You as agents and publishers frustration builds over the course of the series.
Coel notes how she found the experience of writing I May Destroy You ‘cathartic.’ Indeed, the sometimes burden and later relief of constructing one’s own narrative is pivotal to the show. Just as Arabella meticulously crafts her own narrative, stalling at times and at other points exploding with creativity, Coel seemingly reflected, producing 191 drafts of the series.
Yet, Coel goes a step further than Arabella’s story and introduces equally compelling character arcs rarely discussed and represented on screen. For instance, there is the once confident Kwame (Paapa Essiedu) who experiences profound shame and anxiety after an online hook-up ends in rape. There is also the quiet and burgeoning unease of her best friend Terry (Weruche Opia) who has a threesome with two other men she assumes were strangers but later reveal themselves to be friends who had planned the encounter all along. Through Terry and Kwame’s private grief, unlike Arabella’s choice to speak out online, the audience are shown that there are no hard and fast solutions or set grieving processes for trauma.
Nor is there clear cut morality in I May Destroy You as seemingly each episode presents the viewer with characters that cannot be simplified. Perhaps the most obvious example is Theodora (Harriet Webb), Arabella’s classmate who runs a support group for victims of sexual assault and abuse. As a teen, Theo falsely accuses a black student of raping her at knifepoint, stealing a kitchen knife to wound herself before breaking down in class. She plays into the abhorrent stereotype of the threatening black man and helpless white woman. Arabella, being aware of Theo’s tortured past, is able to forgive her but Terry is far more hesitant. She points out how Theo is immediately believed without question whereas a black girl reporting the same crime would not receive such sympathy and support. Thus, sisterhood, race, assault, abuse, accountability and responsibility all intersect within a single episode.
As a survivor, I was left stunned as Coel had at last perfectly articulated something I had often felt but could never put into words
While each if these nuanced, intertwining character arcs provide more food for thought than some shows have in entire series, it is the final episode that is perhaps the most haunting. As a survivor, I was left stunned as Coel had at last perfectly articulated something I had often felt but could never put into words: the compulsion to fantasise about what you would do to your attacker if you came across them. As relentless questioning and persistent self-doubt lead survivors to obsessively recall events, fantasy offers an escape.
Arabella longs for such an escape when she hauls Terry into the toilets of the Ego Death bar in which she was spiked and visits on a regular basis. Having been conditioned into expecting only realism the audience are positioned to believe she will take revenge. With hyper-focused, pragmatic calculation Arabella, Theo and Terry all dressed in black lay out a trap for Arabella’s assumed rapist. This culminates is quite literally giving him a taste of his own medicine and stalking him as he stumbles through the streets of London.
This sequence in the ultimate ‘this cannot be happening’ moment as Theo strangles the rapist and Arabella bludgeons him before dragging his body under her bed. Arabella is like Judith and her attacker Holofernes giving out his final gasp bringing this revenge plot to an end. It is satisfying but would not be a fitting end. The show again transcends realism in favour of fantasy and two further imagined experiences follow. The first plays out with Arabella taking the attacker to her flat where, uncontrollably sobbing, he confesses to his various crimes as if he is at a confessional before the police arrest him. The final fantasy imagines consensual sex between the two with a seeming reversal of gender roles as Arabella seeks to purge the trauma of that fateful night.
Ultimately, revenge, confession and reconciliation are all dead ends for Arabella’s narrative. And indeed in real cases of rape and sexual assault these outcomes hardly ever play out. In fact, in the UK only 1.7% of reported rapes end in a conviction. Instead, both Arabella and Coel herself end up processing this trauma not through surreal fantasy but through fictionalising the self. Arabella’s self-published book, much like the show itself, reveals the potential of committing one’s perspective to paper and therefore reclaiming the power lost through sexual assault. Notably, the show ends just as Arabella prepares to read the foreword of her book, the moment at which she releases the narrative she has spent so long constructing into the world. At this point it is no longer her burden to bear.
The strength of I May Destroy You is not just drawn from its brutally honest depictions of sexual assault and its aftermath but the potential for life beyond this. Arabella independently publishes her book, Terry kickstarts her acting career and the two share fulfilling and supportive friendships with Kwame and Theo. There are moments of joy and elation to match those of despair – and this is the reality of life after sexual assault. Survivors are not damaged goods and there is no right or wrong way of responding to trauma. I May Destroy You is more than a consent drama. It puts into words the experiences of so many which for so long have not been represented. You would be hard pressed to find a more relevant and revolutionary drama on TV in 2020.
Guidance on obtaining help related to sexual assault can be found on the NHS website.
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