" realized how serious I took her," Onfroy says.
When the girl next bothered him, he says, he "slapped the shit out of her and kneed her." Her answer: Give the girl three warnings if she keeps hitting, you have to handle it. The boy asked his mother if he could hit back. In the idiom of preteen infatuation, she showed it by hitting him. Once, when Onfroy attended the beige strip of concrete buildings called Margate Middle School, a classmate had a crush on him. Instead, it's a grim picture of a banal, unglamorous, half-likable kind of figure whom women around the world encounter every day - someone who isn't profoundly addled as much as pathetically insecure, obsessed with power, and incapable of following one essential directive of human conduct: "It's so simple," his accuser says. In many ways, Onfroy's continued commercial viability is a testament to what accused assailants can still get away with in the court of public opinion, especially when their victims - like Onfroy's - are low-income and women of color.īut after a review of hundreds of pages of court documents, a two-hour talk with the singer, and interviews with his alleged victim, old friends, collaborators, fans, and foes, what emerges is not a portrait of a supervillain. As the singer's friend and fellow rapper Denzel Curry once said in an interview with HotNewHipHop: "The thing with X is, when he got into trouble, that's what blew him up." When the claims surfaced, the singer joined a lineup of controversial male figures, from Chris Brown to Harvey Weinstein, whose accusations of abuse have spurred a national conversation about an age-old question: Can great art be separated from problematic artists? But unlike Brown, Weinstein, or many of their peers, whose work was well known before it became controversial, Onfroy's celebrity and extreme criminal charges are closely tied. The track was short, distorted like most of his songs, and named an imperative "Look at Me!" But as listeners and media took his instruction to heart, they uncovered details about Onfroy's past, including the brutal allegations of domestic abuse. The controversial rapper emerged onto the public stage in early 2017, when a single he uploaded to SoundCloud burst out of underground music circles and into the mainstream. "Would I change anything about my journey?" he says at one point. "Take off your shoes," he says.įor the next two hours, Onfroy sits cross-legged on a comfy chair and talks openly about astral projection (he's for it), feminism (he's against it), and systemic oppression (it's over, apparently) while declining to address or reflect upon the criminal reasons he's unable to leave his house. "I'm going to domestically abuse y'all little sisters' p**** from the back." tweet thisīut today, after some back-and-forth, the homeowner - whose real name is Jahseh Dwayne Onfroy but whom the world knows as the polarizing SoundCloud artist XXXTentacion - lets the door swing open and leads the way to his blue-lit studio.
#XXXTENTACION MOONLIGHT MUSICALLY TUTORIAL; TRIAL#
But it's mostly due to the fact he's on what his lawyer calls "modified house arrest" while awaiting trial for a disturbing list of criminal charges, including domestic battery by strangulation, false imprisonment, and aggravated battery of a pregnant woman. That's partly because he was working on an album that, when it dropped this past March 16, debuted at number one on the Billboard 200. In the past six months, this guy has rarely left his house. When a visitor, who found the place from a stray speeding ticket, says she's surprised he came outside, he says, "The word would be 'dumbfounded.'" He is charismatic, quick to laugh, and slightly condescending. He's covered in tattoos: Most prominent are an elephant head on his throat, "17" on his temple, and "Cleopatra," his mother's name, scrawled on his chest.
In real life, the homeowner is strikingly pretty, with huge irises and a jolt of blue hair pulled into two french braids. He returns trailing his five-foot-six friend, who is shirtless, barefoot, and a little angry. When the owner is requested, Peach Fuzz grumbles something inaudible and disappears behind the wooden door. Around noon on a recent Thursday, it's a blond boy with a peach-fuzz mustache and a cursive face tattoo. The $1.4 million Tuscan-style home has no doorbell, but a rotating cast of kids routinely answers knocks on the door. There are a half-dozen Wi-Fi networks to choose from, all named variants of " Theworldwithin." A team of landscapers dots the edges of the property, ensuring the shrubs stay pruned. Today two cars - a black BMW and a colossal van - are parked out front in one of those circular driveways that are popular in the suburbs.
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