The first of which is that queer men are somehow "dirty", a large part of which is borne out of the homophobic panic around HIV/AIDS and the idea that this is a disease spread almost exclusively by gay men. The idea that non-disclosure of sexuality is adjacent to assault echoes some homo/biphobic ideas. In framing the situation of Kwame and Nilufer as adjacent to sexual assault, something emphasised by how Kwame’s physicality directly mirrors that of his rapist a few episodes before, a false and worrying equivalence is implicitly created. Niliufer reacts with disgust and kicks him out. Afterwards, in some awkward pillow talk, she reveals her intense homophobia, leading Kwame to disclose his sexuality. Niliufer (Pearl Chanda) invites Kwame home, while clearly fetishising him – she hilariously plays 'Barking' by Ramz in the background as they have sex. In episode eight, 'Line Spectrum Border', Kwame decides to try sleeping with a woman, and does so without telling her that he has never slept with a woman before. Where the show fails his character is in its back end. The show imbues him with a level of humanity and introspection that is both important and fascinating. The "police are not generally set up to see Black men in general as victims" and neither are we we’re conditioned to dehumanise Black people and see the queer experience as something entirely alien.
In Kwame's less free and joyous moments, he’s able to represent a kind of sexual assault survivors who are rarely spoken about in the public sphere. He just lives his truth in a way that is brilliant. From the off, he’s sexually liberated and there is "no shame to him and to his identity, and especially to his sexuality" (as Essiedu pointed out to Digital Spy). There are so many things about Kwame that this show does well.