“It beats me black and blue,” wails Rihanna followed by unprintable words then “must be love on the brain.”
Those words stick in my brain conjuring negative scenarios. When is it acceptable for violence to equate love? Are these allusions to the antiquated notions of bad boy overpowers helpless damsel? Or savage lovemaking between two people that cannot keep away from each other despite destructive behavior? The only image that surfaces is of a broken down Rihanna beaten to a pulp by her then boyfriend. The lyrics do not heal in this me-too generation. They perpetuate twisted interpretations of love.