I May Destroy You | A Critically In-Depth, Analytical Essay | Part I
Michaela Coel has birthed her second baby. Her critically acclaimed, brand new show, ‘I May Destroy You’, centres black characters and focuses on the important topic of sexual consent / assault and arrived at our television screens in the middle of June. Amid our desolate, quarantined reality and in the wake of George Floyd’s death near the end of May, which sparked the much-awaited uprising of BLM protests in the US, and uniquely in the UK too, I became optimistic.
A black, female writer born and bred in the same area as me (East London) has produced fresh new content and so I delved in to the show with enthusiasm and curiosity wondering how Michaela would use her power as director, producer and creator to represent black people in the UK. I watched on only to find an array of triggers, stereotypes and misrepresentations. As the show was broadcasted on BBC One, I kicked myself for being surprised.
In August 2018 Michaela delivered a James McTaggart lecture, to a mainly white audience, for the Edinburgh TV Festival. In this lecture, Michaela voiced a number of issues that currently exist in the western media industry such as: the lack of transparency when creating television content, racism towards black actors and the lack of underrepresented voices contributing to the production of television shows. Although I had known much of these issues already, I was grateful for the 53-minute-long lecture.
Taking us through the conception of her first baby, ‘Chewing Gum’ and reflecting on her writing process, Michaela notes that “(her) stories are (her) babies” and that “(she) wants to look after them.” However, upon watching this show I can’t help feeling as though she has given her second baby away to the cold, uncaring arms of producers who do not “know (her) world from the inside” and use her traumas as an opportunity to capitalise from; a common occurrence in the western entertainment industry.
I have many thoughts on this show and so I’ve decided to write a comprehensive, critical essay of it. Since there are barely any black critics in the art and entertainment industry, I am sharing some of my perspectives and critiques as a Nigerian, London-born, queer, neuro-divergent and non-binary viewer. As much as I know Michaela Coel is a witty, talented and raw writer, I do feel that her content falls short where she has had to give her talents away to a media industry that really doesn’t care enough to help her create more accurate representation for people like myself. It is becoming increasingly clear that TV production companies are only interested in earning profit by appeasing white audiences and I would like to shed some light on the detrimental effects this has on black content. In this two-part analytical review, I will be touching on various aspects which I find problematic and misrepresentative such as: cis-heteronormativity, gender norms, black british portrayal and the representation of black queer characters.
The opening scene of episode one depicts Arabella and Biaggio (Marouane Zotti) in sunny and bright Ostia, Italy. Arabella is pacing around impatiently for her taxi back to London in a dark-brown to light-pink ombré wig. From the outset, the age-old routine of gender role dynamics where the female protagonist is pandering to the male character’s every whim in search of a romantic relationship becomes operative.
Biaggio bluntly and apathetically responds to Arabella’s pleads for her to see him again soon saying, “February I’m busy, March I have some time.” To which Arabella asks, “so you’re going to come to London?” Biaggio then responds to her, commanding that she comes back to Italy again in March as he thinks “London is shit”. With Arabella already feeling despondent due to his lack of interest, he lets her know that whenever he’s ready to call her, he’ll call and then walks away in to the scintillating streets of Italy, disappearing out of view. And so, Arabella is left daydreaming in her ride home, reminiscing to the sound of crashing waves and Biaggio’s bearded, nonchalant face; all in rhythm to the laid-back flow of Tierra Whack’s voice.
Since Biaggio is a man, he is portrayed as more dominant than Arabella and since this reality is focused in a cis-heteronormative one, there is no focus on equal gender relationships. Biaggio sets the time they will meet and the time he will call. Empowering? Not really. With white feminist TV programmes broadcasted on the BBC such as Fleabag, written by Phoebe Waller-Bridge, where causal sex is honestly depicted and portrayed as empowering and radical, it’s disheartening to see that a black female character cannot have the same autonomy when interacting with a man. This calls in to question whether the BBC genuinely want to portray an empowering image of black female characters and I doubt that they do.
We are then taken to Arabella’s house in Hackney where she ironically lives with a white guy named Ben (Stephen Wight). I say ironically as Hackney is the second most deprived local authority in England, with 40% of properties still in social housing. The average home now costs £500,000 thanks to the influx of white gentrifiers.
I can’t help but feel alienated by this suspiciously kind and concerned middle-aged, cis white male character who unrealistically resides in this Hackney home with Arabella. As I observed his resting benign countenance sitting awkwardly on the sofa between Arabella and her friend Terry (Weruchie Opia), I realised that this show may have not been written with the intention of showing the reality of black british life at all. Rather, just a figment of it and a dramatised storyline to keep viewers engaged. My confidence in this show was already starting to wane.
In Ofcom’s recent 2018 research report about representation and portrayal on BBC television, one of their findings states that “labels (which) group people together based on certain characteristics are not always helpful and can mask important details and differences.” This is relevant to the depiction of both Kwame (Paapa Essiedu) and Alissa (Ann Akin) who are largely misrepresented as the only black and queer characters.
Kwame is portrayed as a Grindr-obsessed gay man swiping left and right on a myriad of gay men whose interpersonal lives we will never see or know. Alissa, is a bi-sexual woman seeking a threesome with Simon (Aml Ameen) and his partner Kat (Lara Rossi) but later decides to cancel the date to secretly hook up with Simon, again further playing in to the patriarchal idea that men are ultimately more desirable than women. This poor representation is further perpetuated by the lack of support and concern that Alissa shows for Arabella when she comes to visit her outside her flat in search of answers to piece together the events of the previous night. Alissa is more concerned about defending the man (Simon) that she has been “safely fucking for six months now” and screaming at, the already traumatised, Arabella as she walks away from the council estate.
With little to no representation of the QTIPOC+ community in London, the show definitely does not tick the criteria of “reflect(ing) more diversity within groups as well as between them.” These black queer characters exist in a dwindling cis-heteronormative reality formed by Michaela, with no assistance from any black queer writers, directors or producers to depict these stories more authentically. It is clear that these black queer narratives were not for the consumption of black queer viewers. As she herself mentions in her James McTaggart Lecture, “the lack of varied perspective among producers…can have catastrophic consequences”. She was right. In an article by The Sun newspaper, Kwame is described as “man mad” and a “man eater” as opposed to his cis-hetero counterpart Terry who is described as a “best friend” to Arabella. This is evidence of the further weaponizing of black queer identities that can occur when television depiction goes awry.
Ofcom’s official 2018 TV representation report for the BBC also found that “Some people said they could sense when those creating content did not come from the same background as those they were watching.” This is evident in Michaela’s depiction of the black queer characters but also exemplary of the very people Michaela trusted to create this content with. Both the co-director, Sam Harris, and the show’s commissioner, Piers Wenger, are white and have previously produced television primarily for white audiences. This further explains why I found myself barely relating to this show at all apart from the incessant focus on black trauma which I am all too familiar with.
In a zoom call interview discussing the making of the show with the actors (Paapa, Weruchie, Michaela) and journalist Charlie Brinkhurst-Cuff leading the informal interview, Michaela speaks in high praises of Sam Harris, saying he is “collaborative, kind, patient, doesn’t have ego and didn’t mind stepping back and letting (her) run wild a little bit”. But he couldn’t possibly let her run wild enough to have another black person as co-director and possibly queer too? Seeing as controller of BBC One, Charlotte Moore, was moderating this zoom discussion though, it doesn’t come as much surprise that Michaela did not have the same critical vigour as she did in her James McTaggart lecture.
The idea that black people on television can only be depicted experiencing trauma as opposed to joy, is representative of how TV “repeat(s) the same storylines or focus(es) on the same themes for any one characteristic or background result(ing) in limited and inauthentic portrayal.” Growing up with television content such as Top Boy, Kidulthood and Bulletboy, for example, have made me aware of what white media industry ‘professionals’ are interested in providing a budget for. My life as a black, queer, neuro-divergent does not only consist of pain, however, how is a white viewer to know this when that is all that’s offered to them?
‘I May Destroy You’ has received nothing but rave reviews about the brilliance of the show and Michaela Coel’s palpable talent, but none of the reviews I have read so far about this show identify the deeply embedded issues within the TV and media industry as a whole when depicting black lives in the UK. This two-part essay is a reference point for black viewers and serves as an admonishment to the western entertainment industry, elucidating the damaging effects that the capitalistic mindset of the industry, and wider society, has on black writers / creatives and the ways in which our lives are depicted.
