Tammi Terrell

Tammi Terrell: The Tragedy of Male Brutality and a Life Stolen Too Soon

By Sharnellia Bennett-Smith

Staten Island, NY - My mother is a huge Motown fan, and I grew up listening to Marvin Gaye, The Temptations, and other Motown stars. I remember the song You're All I Need to Get By by Mary J. Blige and Method Man coming on the radio in my mother’s car. It was early March a few years back, and it happened to be Method Man’s birthday. My mom, as she always does, yelled out the origins of the song, making sure I knew where it came from.

"You know that’s Marvin and Tammi’s song, right?" she said.

I had heard of Marvin Gaye for sure, but I didn’t really know about Tammi. "Who is Tammi?" I asked as she made a wrong turn and had to bust a U-turn.

"You know," she said, "Tammi Terrell. The girl Ruffin hit in the head with the helmet and died."

"Who the hell is Ruffin?" I asked, still confused by all these old names she was throwing at me. She sighed dramatically, clearly exasperated with my lack of knowledge.

"David Ruffin, from The Temptations…you know, ‘Ain’t nobody coming to see you, Otis’—the guy from the movie."

"Oh," I said, still not fully grasping what she was telling me.

"Yeah," she continued. "He hit that girl in the head, and she died right after."

I wasn’t a feminist then and had no real understanding of the dangers of male-patterned violence, but that story of Tammi stuck with me. Getting hit over the head with a motorcycle helmet sounded so disturbing, so violent, and yet it was spoken about like just another piece of music trivia. It wasn’t until years later when I saw a tweet with Tammi’s face on it that I remembered her story. This time, with a feminist mind, I could directly link her death to being in close proximity to men.

A Twitter Post on Tammi Terrell from 2018

 Born Thomasina Winifred Montgomery in 1945, she grew up in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and had an early affinity for music. By the time she was a teenager, she performed on the local circuit before signing with Scepter Records at 15. She moved to James Brown’s touring revue at 17. 

Initially, their relationship was professional. Brown took an interest in Terrell’s talent and brought her into his circle, which, on the surface, seemed like an incredible opportunity for a young singer looking to establish herself. 

At the time, James Brown was in his early 30s—nearly twice her age. He was already an established artist with a reputation for being both charismatic and controlling.  However, as was common in the industry, professional mentorship often blurred into personal involvement—especially when the power imbalance was so stark. It wasn’t long before his interest in Terrell became sexual.

Their relationship quickly turned abusive and Terrell, still a teenager, became another victim of his wrath. given the isolating nature of the music industry, she had few places to turn for protection. 

By 20, Tammi was signed to Motown, where she began working closely with Marvin Gaye. Her duets with Gaye—songs like Ain’t No Mountain High Enough and You’re All I Need to Get By—made her a household name. While their chemistry was undeniable, it was only on stage, offstage, her life was. riddled with violence, as her relationship with Motown's David Ruffin closed in on her. 

One night, in a fit of rage, Ruffin struck Tammi in the head with a motorcycle helmet. Brain trauma has long been linked to the development of tumors, and this moment may have sealed her fate. Following the assault, she began experiencing severe migraines, dizzy spells, and fainting episodes.

By 23, she collapsed onstage in Gaye’s arms. Not long after, she was diagnosed with a malignant brain tumor. Multiple surgeries were performed, but the damage was already done. She died at just 24 years old, her career and life cut short before she could truly reach her potential.

Now, I often wonder what Tammi’s life would have been like if she had existed in a world where 4B was the norm. She would have had the chance to live far beyond the years that were stolen from her. 

Her life story proved to me that being close to men only brings decay, chaos, brutality, and suffering.

If Terrell had been in a world where the oppressive grip of men was cut off, she might have lived beyond 24. She might have had the space to heal, to thrive, to sing for decades instead of a brief, pain-ridden few years.