FKA twigs is right, anyone can fall victim to abuse
By: Rose Stokes
Tags: Womens Rights, Abuse Survivors, Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Fka Twigs

Mindlessly scrolling through my Twitter feed this weekend, my thumbs stopped as I read the headline of a piece everyone was sharing.

The piece in question in the New York Times was about a British singer-songwriter, FKA twigs (real name Tahliah Debrett Barnett) and her decision to sue her ex-boyfriend, US actor Shia LaBeouf, on accusations of ‘relentless abuse,’ including ‘sexual battery, assault and infliction of emotional distress’.

As my thumbs and eyes hungrily poured over the words in the article, my mind and body were catapulted back to a time not long ago, when I turned up at work with wet hair, no make-up and no coat in the middle of Winter, after a romantic partner made it impossible to stay in the same room as him.

Without the help of my therapist and the incredible people in my life, I would be in a very different and much scarier place right now. I honestly can’t even think about the emotional abuse to which I was subjected.

As anyone that has ever been in a similar situation knows, sometimes it takes just the smallest thing — a sight, a sound, a scent — to bring unwanted memories back to the forefront of your mind. Or for the extreme fear or anxiety you felt in that moment to return afresh. Time and distance can certainly blunt the impact of trauma, but I’m not sure the effects ever really leave you.

Like many other people who have been through this — I have more than just a passing interest in how abuse works, particularly when it relates to psychological and emotional abuse. In truth, for a year or so after my experience, it was more like an obsession.

If you could see my Google search history from that time, I have no doubt ‘how do you know if you’re being abused’ would have been at the very top.

Even once I’d found the strength to leave, it remained a regular source of reassurance for me. A place where I could remind myself — sometimes multiple times a day — that what I had experienced was definitely abuse and not some figment of my imagination, as I had been made to believe.

And so reading about others who have been through this fuels a strange mix of emotions: shock, empathy and horror primarily. But then, a strange sort of comfort.

Reassurance that I’m not the only one. That it wasn’t just me. That I’m not alone in my experience and that there isn’t something singularly wrong with me. Because that’s how abuse works — by making you feel that it is you. You’re the problem. Not the abuser. And it’s all your fault. Everything is your fault.

As I read through the article, there was one line that struck a chord: ‘Her aim in coming forward, she said in an interview, was to explain how even a critically acclaimed artist with money, a home and a strong network of supporters could be caught in such a cycle.’

It made me think back to the days and weeks after I ended things when I began admitting to my closest friends and family exactly what had been happening. They found it hard to believe, not least because like most people in that position, I had hidden it all from them.

But also because to their minds I didn’t ‘fit’ the mould of what they expected a victim of abuse to look or act like. ‘I understand that this happens,’ they would say, ‘but just not to you’, as well as multiple variations of ‘but you’re so strong how could you let him do this?’

The reactions of my nearest and dearest aren’t all that surprising; it can be hard to imagine someone you care about allowing themselves to be mistreated — or even believing that it’s what they deserve.

I suppose you might expect there to be some sort of warning sign. But the nature of abuse is so intrinsically linked to shame that many people find it easier to bury it deep down. Or — as in my case — perhaps they’re just hoping it’s not really happening. Or that it would all stop if only they can just….change…this….one….thing.

Cultural representations of abuse also have a lot to answer for when it comes to the cognitive dissonance experienced by victims and their close friends and family, which is why FKA twigs’s statement is so important.

We think that abusers and victims tend to look or act a certain way — maybe that they are inherently weak, financially challenged or timid — when in reality anyone can fall victim to abuse. For me and many others, this lack of awareness of what abuse really looks like can make it challenging to situate yourself in the position of a victim, making you doubt yourself further.

You find it hard to reconcile the idea of victimhood you’ve been taught with your own vision of yourself, which all plays into an abuser’s hands because it exposes a gap in confidence that they can exploit

FKA twigs, me and millions of other people (mostly women) have had to find out the hard way that there is no ‘perfect victim’ for abuse — it can happen to literally anyone.

The best form of defence is, as with most things, offence. In this case that means teaching young people the importance of self esteem and how to build and cultivate it, as well as showing them what ‘healthy’ and ‘unhealthy’ relationships look like.

In the England at least, compulsory Relationships and Sex Education (RSE) that covers subjects like emotional abuse and coercive control came into effect in September 2020. This will help in the long term.

But until then, I applaud the strength demonstrated by FKA twigs in discussing this traumatic experience — it will help so many people.

No one is exempt from abuse. It can happen to you, it happened to me… it can happen to any of us. We owe it to ourselves, each other and the millions of victims all over the world to spread this message as far and wide as we can. Lives depend on it.