Lexi Riley It is a sad time for women. I think of abused women watching the Heard vs. Depp trial on television from a locked room. Or watching, at a low volume, on their phone from a closet. I fear for little girls and young women, fresh without stain, naive to the wickedness and wrath of manipulative men and the cruel fate that awaits so many of them.
Hashtag “AmberHeardIsALiar” trends daily on the front page of Twitter, and worse, “AmberHeardIsAPsychopath.” Believe all women, except for Amber Heard, because you thought Johnny Depp was sexy in the nineties. Around the world, millions cheer “Justice for Johnny,” eternally smitten by his performances as Edward Scissorhands, Captain Jack Sparrow, and young Johnny, all cheekbones, dark hair, and sunglasses. On my T.V., I see a different picture. A “fat, lonely, old man,” Amber once said herself, a quote Depp die-hards repeat with gusto, citing it as proof of abuse. No, the countless times Depp called Amber a “fat-ass,” a “whore,” a “cunt,” his barrage of name-calling was never verbal abuse. He was just a wounded man blowing off steam.
“I will fuck her burnt corpse afterward to make sure she is dead,” Depp texted Paul Bettany. “Will do. I’ll smack the ugly cunt around before I let her in, don’t worry,” Depp assured. “Did that worthless hooker arrive?” Depp queried.
Johnny Depp suffered a severed finger, admitting the wound may have been self-inflicted during one of his many rampages. When questioned by doctors, Depp never claimed his injury was from Amber. To this, Depp fans say he was protecting her. When Amber failed to call the police or reach out to doctors, who is to say she was not trying to protect Johnny? Despite a lengthy and harrowing testimony, the narrative that Amber is a liar persists. The MeToo movement, and its years of progress for female victims, are all forgotten in one flash of Johnny’s gold-toothed smile.
Johnny and Amber both imbibed in red wine and occasionally drugs. When Johnny did drugs, he claims it was to numb himself from Amber’s abuse and a tumultuous childhood of being spanked and called “four-eyes” by his mother, Betty Sue. Johnny nicknamed himself “the monster,” acknowledging that “the monster” surfaces when he takes substances. His rageful benders are well-documented. Depp himself admits to writing on walls with his blood, and there is extensive photo evidence of his wreckage. Where are the stories of Amber acting out when under the influence? One can recall her testimony of taking sleeping pills to escape the pain after enduring a vicious attack from Depp.
No, it is impossible that Johnny ever took drugs recreationally. Can you imagine Johnny Depp, a washed-up actor, wannabe rockstar, Hunter S. Thompson’s muse, and best friend of Marilyn Manson, indulging in cocaine for fun? Now, let’s be realistic.
Lazy males, not men, who are eternal victims crippled with bitterness and self-loathing, incapable of progress, romanticize Johnny. Shallow women catch a buzz off his every word, his beat poetry testimony flowing like champagne bubbles, straight to their heads. A master of his craft, Johnny is a fantastic actor, and he knows it. He snickers from the sidelines as a distraught Amber recalls fearing death as he choked her, slipping across a blood-soaked floor, and being sexually violated by Johnny with a glass bottle. Day after day, Ms. Heard takes the stand, recounting numerous gruesome incidents of assault in explicit detail.
Female victims of abuse at home hear a story all too familiar. Amber describes Johnny as a man of many faces. There is love-bombing Johnny, drunk Johnny, opiate Johnny, and always the monster. A controlling Johnny, jealous and brooding, seething over her plunging neckline and every platonic encounter with a man. Johnny yells, throws things, then punches, and finally, he gaslights. Amber, a young girl, is taken advantage of by a rich and powerful man over twenty years her senior.
Amber scrunches her nose, a natural reaction to disgust and pain, as she relives her traumas. Depp fans whip out their screen recorders and take to TikTok, mocking the expressions of a battered woman. There is no sympathy for Ms. Heard.
Again, I think of women survivors of intimate partner violence watching this trial, all in various stages of their journeys. I feel and fear for them. Wives and mothers who are being held captive in their own homes by men who promised, under God, to love and protect them. If Amber Heard, a self-made, hardworking, educated, and beautiful woman from a small town, is not believed, what precedent does this set? How strange that we live in a world, so consumed by celebrity and the bad boy heartthrob, that we have stripped women of their voices.
