An outspoken TV series about a young hip hipster woman with author dreams, also written by an equally young hip woman, who also plays the lead role. It's no wonder the pre-talk has referred to Lena Dunham's Girls, but it's basically something else entirely: a hard-hitting, current drama that makes Girls look a little antiquated.

I may destroy you, created by the British actor, the poet - yes, the Renaissance woman - Michaela Coel, is here and now. Has acute credibility and relevance.

The ensemble is largely black, which is of great importance, while at the same time completely irrelevant. It depends on how you see it. And Michaela Coel shows that there are many ways to do just that. To look at it, that is.

Arabella is known in small circles for her blog Chronicles of a fed up millenial but has now been awarded a contract for a "real" book. Life is playing but then one morning after the tavern, she wakes up with a wound in her forehead, crushed mobile and devilish hangover. And with no memory of what happened. However, memory fragments show up, especially one where she sees a man standing and jawing and panting over her.

Already here, in the first of 12 episodes, you realize that it will be a damn trip. It's exciting and uncomfortable. We know nothing more than Arabella. Just like her, we wander around the mental space between what happened and the subjective experience.

"Before the rape, I never thought about what it's like to be a woman, I was so busy being black and poor," says Arabella a bit into the series. Her literally black-and-white worldview gets a thorn, the concept of "we and them" filled with new and ever-changing meaning.

It is not only Arabella who is exposed. We see different examples of expected - and unexpected - power structures, and their effect on the individual.
You can thus see you destroy as a basic course in intersectionality. Which sounds genuinely academic, but drama and people always come first. Michaela Coel's script for us with a gentle but determined hand through all trials.

Calling the series complex would be an understatement; it provides people's social, psychological and sexual interaction from all sorts of perspectives. Twists and turns on the concepts of guilt and responsibility without being terribly demagogic.
Thus, miles away from the usual rape drama, where perpetrators and victims are easily defined, where the case is ended when the captions roll.

The focus is mostly on Arabella, usually our sympathies, but Michaela Coel does not iron. The protagonist's journey from party girl to militant feminist and beyond, is not friction-free, neither her nor her surroundings. Or us.

Michaela Coel makes her lead role beautiful, hardworking, lovely and above all alive. Goes with a full tone hit from crushed to iron and everything in between. Gives man's confusion over the condition of things an unusually elastic face.

In some way, the construction shines through: Isn't it a good many sexual dilemmas in a short time? But these are marginal notes. It's been a long time since a fiction made me so alert; the brain spins at high speed to take in all the nuances.

It is not just about forced sex, it is also about how social media can increase the gap between people by letting the gap throats control the debate, about homophobia and about racism.
Here and now, as I said.