From Paris Match interview (1993)
Part 1:
reporter: You have made [the] allegation . . . that your father behaved in an unnatural way toward you. Will you now explain?
cheyenne: I have always been the "sacrifice" of Marlon Brando, his lamb for sacrifice, for his own personal happiness. I have said that I have been sexually abused by my father. My first memories go back to age seven.
reporter: Did you tell your mother about it?
cheyenne: No, I never told anybody about it, not even my mother.
reporter: How would you describe these "sexual abuses"?
cheyenne: My father acted in a strange way toward me, frequently touching my breast or giving me, on my bed, some massages, bouncing me on the bed as if he wanted me to mime for him the gestures of making love, like I'm having sex. He continued touching my breast even when I already was with Dag. To a certain degree, it was also a game on his part, and as a child I didn't always understand what was happening. He was also nice to me, taking walks, talking to me, but I was also very angry with him, because I remember now what he was doing to me.
reporter: What was it like living on Tetiaroa? Do you remember being with your father there?
cheyenne: I think my father was an alcoholic when he was there. I was told that he would drink whiskey and eat a mango at the same time. I lived on Tetiaroa for about two years. The longest he came was for about two or three months. . . .
reporter: When your father brought you to Los Angeles in August 1992, did you want to come?
cheyenne: Yes, but I thought it was for just a visit. ... I didn't know I was supposed to stay a long time.
reporter: You didn't know he had bought a house for you?
cheyenne: No, he didn't talk about that. Maybe he thought he could isolate me.
reporter: Why did he want to do that?
cheyenne: I think he was worried I would say something wrong, or something I didn't mean.
reporter: What was it like living with him during those months?
cheyenne: He often went in his room and put on a Do Not Disturb sign. That was when he did his "exercise." He said he sat in the dark room and played tapes. He said they were "autosuggestion" tapes. I don't know what that is, but he was listening to voices—I think his own voice—for hours, at three in the morning. I didn't see him do this, but he always talked about it. . . his meditating.
reporter: Is he searching for his soul?
cheyenne: I don't think he has a soul, so he is not searching for it. He is a great manitou —that's Tahitian for guru. He likes to lead people . . .
reporter: Yes, people see him as a leader who has helped the Indians, black people, the underdog . . .
cheyenne: Well, they should see him walking around in his pajamas with a hole in his pants, a hole that is not supposed to be there. They would see that he just doesn't care when he comes and knocks on my door all the time. He is a hypocrite.
reporter: Did you ever wonder about your father's relations with women?
cheyenne: Yes, of course. He always broke the heart of all the women he went out with
reporter: Whom are you thinking about?
cheyenne: About my mother first.
reporter: What about you. Do you think you are one of them?
cheyenne: No, I don't consider myself as one of his broken hearts. I realize now that I have always been his sacrifice and that Christian will always make him happy because he is his favorite child. So he has no hold over me anymore. My love for him is dead.
reporter: How do you think your father will react to this interview?
cheyenne: He will probably kill me. I'd rather not imagine it, even though I first spoke about it with my doctor.
