FKA Twigs and Being a Survivor of Domestic Violence
Tags: Relationships, Culture, Shia Labeouf, Abuse, Fka Twigs

FKA Twigs and Being a Survivor of Domestic Violence

“Shia LaBeouf does not get to sit down for a couple of minutes, write a 5 sentence email to the New York Times addressing his internal demons, and then sit in meetings with his team on how to go about damage control for the sake of his image.” DEAJA Dec 14, 2020·10 min read

Similar to a lot of people, I liked Shia LaBeouf. I watched his episode of Hot Ones on First We Feast and fell in love with his charisma, he made me laugh, I listened to the stories he told, but this is exactly the problem. I never cared for Shia Labeouf before Transformers. I never questioned if he could abuse someone, I never looked for red flags in his personality, one half of the reason being that I was young, another half because he was a celebrity so I thought, “Who cares? He has money.” The last reason is that I did not know what the red flags of an abuser were until I went through an abusive relationship. As a victim of domestic violence and a long-time fan of FKA Twigs AKA Tahliah Barnett, my heart sank to my stomach when I saw a picture of her face paired with a caption detailing the abuse she suffered at the hands of Shia LaBeouf. I screamed internally for her, my body’s first reaction was to cry so I did, for her, for myself, for every other woman that could relate. Abusive men are insidious in the way that they hide in plain sight, they’re always right infront of you, they make you laugh, they do sweet things, they have big dreams, they tell they love you. I was angry and thought of all of the women I know who carry ghosts of versions of themselves from before that they cannot recognize anymore. I thought about all of the women I know who still crumble with tears because of what they endured at the hands of lovers, friends, family members, strangers. I thought about how I come from a lineage of women who have been abused in ways they never deserved nor prepared for, but they have the luxury of being called “strong,” because of it. I thought about how both silence and freedom comes with a price. I thought about how I constantly have flashbacks of a younger me crying on the concrete of a parking lot close to one of my favorite pizza places after my intoxicated ex-boyfriend had hit me on the right side of my face, after putting me in a position to question whether I would live or die under a sky I thought could only get darker. I have never gone back to that pizza place. I thought about every woman who does not have the luxury to receive the justice she deserves because she waited too long or she had no evidence or maybe their abuser had money, status, fame so they were able to get off unscathed. I thought about how many women carry trauma for years upon years with the name of their abusers in the back of their throats and behind their eyes when they cry.

FKA Twigs was quiet about the horrors of her relationship like so many of us who lose our voices and also have our voices lose us along the way of normalizing the idea that love and abuse can coexist. Her pain was stuffed and muffled behind the music, abstract costumes, glorious makeup, screaming fans, and all of the masks she put on to portray herself as “okay,” when she was probably far from it. When we see someone like FKA Twigs, we see someone that is grand in her gestures, dedicated to her craft, absolute and certain when it comes to the direction of her career, of the details that make her “FKA Twigs.” We see someone that can sing as if her voice can melt glass and make even fallen angels shed tears, we also see a woman that had no choice but to find shelter in herself when the person she laid next to at night lit a match to her identity, her self esteem, her courage, and walked away without looking back. Abusers hide their knives in their victim’s throats. Abuse doesn’t come rushing in like a tsunami you can point out on a clear day. Abuse comes in increments that you can only pick up on when you are looking backward, after too much time has passed after the damage has already been done. Victims of abuse stand on the other side of themselves when everything is said and done. Shia LaBeouf took time out of his day to make a statement in an email to The New York Times when the news broke of his abuse against FKA Twigs in which he said the following,

“I’m not in any position to tell anyone how my behavior made them feel, I have no excuses for my alcoholism or aggression, only rationalizations. I have been abusive to myself and everyone around me for years. I have a history of hurting the people closest to me. I’m ashamed of that history and am sorry to those I hurt. There is nothing else I can really say.”

There are no rationalizations for the trauma victims of abuse have to navigate and heal from. There are no rationalizations for the anxieties people face after abuse. Shia LaBeouf does not get to pin his misery, his trauma, his anger, and how all of it manifests as a “rationalization,” as to why his ex-girlfriends have suffered assaults onto their bodies that they can never wash away with soap. Shia LaBeouf does not get to use the way he chooses to self destruct as a rationalization for why he is more than capable of wreaking havoc and causing destruction to the lives of the women he shares his life with, to anyone. Shia LaBeouf and other men (of power) who use and abuse do not get to use their privilege or status to rationalize as to why their victims have confusion and rage injected into their veins and aches orbiting their irises without knowledge of their origins. The patriarchy equips abusers with confidence, with pride that screams “I can make people live under my dark skies and have others tell me that I am their sunlight.” With pride that screams, “If I can get off on the hurting, I will.”

Being a victim of abuse is having a thousand eyes on you and still being invisible. Being a victim of abuse is being able to reach vocal notes as high as God’s sky and still not being heard. Being a victim of abuse is thinking you’ve reached “Healing’s” address, but being on a battlefield. Being a victim of abuse is trying to make sense of the abuse, working tirelessly to craft a new identity, a new persona, to become someone that doesn’t have bags under their eyes, to become someone that doesn’t flinch when someone else touches them, to become someone that genuinely means it when they smile. Being a victim of abuse is having to keep your truth and your faith close to you because trauma distorts the mind and when you carry shame, you feel like a walking fragment, a missing puzzle piece no one took the time to find, a piece of shattered glass that is jagged and cuts people at the slightest touch. Being a victim of abuse is avoiding the mirrors on bad days because you remember all of the places on your body that were brutalized and drenched in lovelessness.

The patriarchy dresses abusers in white suits accessorized with the blood of all of the people they left with debris and in ruin, dry cleaning is free for them. The patriarchy is knowing that victims of abuse have to fend for themselves. The patriarchy is knowing that for the average man that ends up being an abuser, the majority of his friends and his family are and will be enablers that will only cause more people, more women to be damaged, spat on, women who will have certain parts of them blackened like tar. The patriarchy is knowing that a majority of men treat women’s lives as learning lessons, teachable moments, sudden realizations to essentially be “a better man.” Abusers use the minds and bodies of their victims as stepping stools to imagined realities in which they can do whatsoever they please, whenever they please. Realities in which they can wage wars, demonize God, leave blood on barbwires, invoke fear as a permanent underlying expression for faces that used to smile often, destroy nature and all that is sacred, and never will there be a consequence, they kick their feet up and ask for another beer. Abusers are allowed the luxury of compassion, of a “He made a mistake,” “He’s a good guy,” “He’s my friend,” the benefit of the doubt, space to “grow,” while their victims and survivors are shamed, humiliated, spat at with words that could kill as fast as venom, vilified, left to feel unfamiliar in their bodies, shot down, and shot out. Victims of abuse that have the names of their lovers, their friends, their family, attached to their trauma have to unlearn a way of living in which they had to survive a person they loved, a mental and emotional strain no one deserves.

Shia LaBeouf does not get to sit down for a couple of minutes, write a 5 sentence email to the New York Times addressing his internal demons, and then sit in meetings with his team on how to go about damage control for the sake of his image. Shia LaBeouf is an abuser with a privilege that consists of money and fame and so I question how different his statement might have been had FKA Twigs not been famous or with strength, resources, lawyers, or support. LaBeouf abused women whom he claimed he loved and then went on with his life to make films, do interviews, receive awards and support from people that did not know him behind closed doors, he was given the chance to become somebody else despite his actions, like so many other abusers. Shia LaBeouf is the epitome of what it means for white men to be at the top of the pyramid when it comes to oppressors, he is at the center of a system that caters to his every need as a (white) man in America and perpetuates the notion that women are to be rehabilitation centers for broken men instead of people.

It is not easy for anyone to come to terms with the fact that they are being abused. Being a survivor means fighting for the healing of your psyche. Being a survivor is having no choice except to create a new home, a new and different world to live in because you were dragged away from your own for so long. Being a survivor means fighting for and cherishing your life every day, not just on bad days, not just on good days. Being a survivor means that people who have never been through it will never understand and they will make judgment mandatory, necessary, but knowing that it is better to focus on what and who loves you instead of what and who does not. Being a survivor means having to make gold out of a story you’re carrying that perhaps shouldn’t belong to you, but it does and when it’s public, people look to you for your “strength,” your “wisdom,” your resilience, while only being able to sympathize with the road it took to get here instead of truly feeling and understanding it. Being a survivor is becoming protective over your loved ones, including them in your prayers so that they never have to face realities that force them to shed blood from their eyes, not just tears. Being a survivor means knowing that at times, people will not even see half of you, but you do and you are the only person that has to so you appreciate all that it took to even be able to smile. Being a survivor means that you tell your story, first to yourself, and then if you are ready, to others because you know that even if you reach just one person, you will be doing yourself a sort of justice you could never truly receive from anyone else, not even a judge in a courtroom.

People, especially women, die from domestic violence every single day. Everyone knows a person or has a person in their life that has been abused. While I empathize wholeheartedly with FKA Twigs and send her my utmost love from afar, I think of the women I know who never spoke up, women I see often, women I share spaces with, women who endured abuse at the hands of someone that was internally shattered and were without even a shoulder to cry on. I think about my mother, my grandmother, I think about myself. I think about all of the “I’m sorry’s,” and hugs some of us never received, will never receive, but rightfully deserve and so I write this to say, if you are or know someone that is being abused or in an abusive relationship, please do not hesitate to seek help, to speak up.

Thank you.

Below is a list of resources for those affected by domestic violence and abuse:

The National Domestic Violence Hotline

1–800–799–7233 (SAFE)

https://www.thehotline.org

https://www.thehotline.org/search-our-resources/

National Dating Abuse Helpline

1–866–331–9474

www.loveisrespect.org

National Sexual Assault Hotline

1–800–656–4673 (HOPE)

www.rainn.org

National Center for Victims of Crime

1–202–467–8700

www.victimsofcrime.org

National Center on Domestic Violence, Trauma & Mental Health

1–312–726–7020 ext. 2011

www.nationalcenterdvtraumamh.org

Futures Without Violence: The National Health Resource Center on Domestic Violence

1–888–792–2873

www.futureswithoutviolence.org

Deaf Abused Women’s Network (DAWN)

Email: Hotline@deafdawn.org

VP: 202–559–5366

www.deafdawn.org

Casa de Esperanza

Linea de crisis 24 horas / 24-hour crisis line

1–651–772–1611

www.casadeesperanza.org

The National Immigrant Women’s Advocacy Project

(202) 274–4457

http://www.niwap.org/

Trans Lifeline

877–565–8860

www.translifeline.org

Men Stopping Violence

1–866–717–9317

www.menstoppingviolence.org

A Call to Men

1–917–922–6738

www.acalltomen.org