TW: Themes of domestic violence and assault
“If I stay, I’ll never leave” says Priscilla Presley, played by Cailee Spaeny in Sofia Coppola’s newest movie Priscilla.
There I am in the theater, eyes welling with tears, this line ringing through my ears and straight to my heart. It hurts to hear such words on the big screen, because yet again, I am reminded that my experiences of pain are universal for women. The hardest part of being in an unhealthy and dangerous romantic relationship is often the part when you realize you need to leave.
Coppola’s film details the life of Priscilla Presley as she met and fell in love with Elvis Presley. The perfect image of Elvis is shattered, viewers quickly realizing he’s not the angelic heartthrob we might picture him to be. The heart of this film lies in Coppola’s ability to depict a manipulative and toxic relationship between two people who clearly love each other deeply. Beyond the upsetting power dynamic that occurred between Elvis and Priscilla, I was left disturbed by the subtleties of this depiction of Elvis’s control, and for lack of a better word, gaslighting of his young lover. Priscilla illustrates a man, drunk on his own ego (and plenty of alcohol), who derives pleasure from telling “his lady” exactly what to do, and when to do it.
While I have never experienced total control as shown in this movie, the themes of abuse, outbursts of anger, and strictly enforced gender roles remind me of one of my own past relationships. I cared deeply about the boy who I was in this complicated relationship with, though it was only a short span of a couple months. It made leaving borderline impossible.
I related to the moments on screen when painful times were made better by the soft ones. In my case, sweet words soon turned to critiques of myself and the girl friends I surrounded myself with. But he could kiss me, take me on a romantic date, and then it didn’t seem to bother me anymore. Even when my beliefs and convictions about women, and being a vocal survivor, were constantly called into question, I found ways to ignore the pain. Comforting touches were fleeting, replaced with painful bite marks left on my arms and thighs. His favorite thing to tell me was “I could’ve had sex with any girl I wanted tonight. You should be happy I’m here with you.” To him, I think this was a compliment. To me, I realized I didn’t have much of his respect, but it took time to understand that.
I think the most important part of my experience that I want to share with you, and also my biggest takeaway from Priscilla, is the amount of time it took me to actually come to the realization that my relationship was not healthy. During the time I was with this boy, I found myself giving excuses for his behavior. I convinced myself that I was lucky he chose me to mark with unwanted speckles of black and blue on my skin. I lied to so many of my friends about how he treated me, probably because I wanted them to see him in the light that my feelings cast on him. My long awaited realization was that I needed to leave, not that I wanted to.
I stuffed all my feelings into my pockets, scribbled a list of reasons it hurt to stay. I brought my list to my best friend, who had never liked him for me anyway. We sat there on her bedroom floor, me sobbing about how it would be easier to stay, to try to make it work; Her begging me to break it off for my own safety and wellbeing. After two hours of heaving my emotions into tissues, and her shoulder, I marched myself to his apartment for a conversation.
Ending it hurt. It stung like I had just sat myself on a hill of fire ants. He stood there, towering over me, with no emotion. Almost no words spoken on his end, his silence said so much. He didn’t even try to make it better, he didn’t even want to fight for me. I felt like a fish flopping around on his living room floor- utterly gutted. Leaving his apartment was hard. I just wanted to crawl back into his twin bed and hide under his covers. I hated that he hurt me, because all I wanted was to curl up with the charming boy I knew the months before. But I left, and we haven’t really talked much since. Seeing him gives me bad chills. It hurts.
Priscilla Presley took years to leave her abusive husband. For me, it took several months of painful behavior to decide to leave. In the months after I left, I hated myself for subjecting myself to all the pain. I spiraled and convinced myself I wasn’t deserving of healthy love, and that I had brought his actions upon myself. While I don’t know what Priscilla was thinking, I am sure she felt this way at points during her relationship. This is something common with survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, and abuse. We can be so hard on ourselves for taking so long to leave. I wish I realized sooner that in toxic romantic relationships, the pain is often negated by crumbs of kindness and care. Watching Spaeny’s performance, acting out the life of a woman who was subjected to a bittersweet and painful romance, was so deeply validating. So many young women experience this kind of love, one that is not always kind and gentle.
The beautiful thing of surviving these relationships is that once you leave, you hopefully can see all the healthy, wonderful love that exists in the world. At first I found it in my friendships, spending the better half of a year investing in people who made me feel safe. I channeled a lot of my pain into art, hobbies, and countless journal entries that won’t ever see the light of day. I slowly eased into dating again, and along the way I have found much comfort in knowing what I deserve. Surviving such an excruciating relationship has taught me how to treat others with more warmth, and know when to ask for the same warmth back. I am still healing, just like I assume it took Priscilla many minutes to heal. I am so happy I didn’t stay.
About Magdalena Saliba
Magdalena is a Co-Editor for Sex and the Crescent City, as well as a member of the photo and graphic design teams. She’s a Junior double majoring in Art History and Studio Art. She loves shopping for cool pants, watching The Sopranos over and over again, and making pasta from scratch.
Magdalena is a Co-Editor for Sex and the Crescent City, as well as a member of the photo and graphic design teams. She’s a Junior double majoring in Art History and Studio Art. She loves shopping for cool pants, watching The Sopranos over and over again, and making pasta from scratch.
