The World Without Prince

I didn’t think this day would come. He’s younger than me and he has always lived clean and healthy and full of his faith. I figured he’d be around singing those songs with a devilish smile and still making us feel kinda raunchy no matter how old we all were. He was like that.

I guess I took it for granted that he would be there. I thought I’d be 70 years old still going to Prince concerts even if they were small affairs in clubs. You know, the unhooked kind. I was all right with that. I was all right with almost everything Prince did.

You know, I feel sorry for people who just don’t seem to love or feel music the way I do. I am aghast at these folks who ask why we mourn these musicians so deeply. We didn’t know them, after all, they say. They are just musicians. I just shake my head.

Creative people make the world we live in just that much more tolerable. 

We need to look at the architecture to see where we have come from. I mean we lived in huts and caves in the beginning and now look what we have? Look at the bridges and buildings and be amazed at what we have been able to do to make our planet that much more livable.

Art has brought us more magic than we ever dreamed. We have beautiful soul stirring paintings and sculptures and drawings that we cherish and love through the years. Just go to museums and art galleries and see what we breathe life into that captures our minds and souls.

I think writing and music roll hand in hand a lot. I mean we have lyrics that we will never forget set to music that takes us to another realm of reality. But as a writer, I understand what that really means. It’s not easy to put those words together and make them mean something that everyone can feel as much as you do.

My hat is off to people who can create the music and then find the words to pair with it and make it another entity altogether. That can only be described as magical. When

we have people who can do that, of course we look at them as special. They seem to find just the right words and music to touch our hearts and evoke all sorts of emotions in each of us. That is not an easy thing to do.

When that one musicians finds that place inside you – when they tap those feelings and bring them rippling to the surface – it’s wonderful. It can be painful, it can be joyous, it can be almost orgasmic or it can make you laugh. And the really great thing is hearing that music brings it back to you every time. You can hear a song you loved 30 years ago and still feel the same way when you heard it the first time. It becomes a part of your life, doesn’t it?

Prince was a magician. He was so many things rolled into one that it seemed unreal. I mean he could be funky as all get out, then he could be romantic, he made us get up and dance, he played it like the blues and then turned around and rocked the damn house.

He sang and he danced and he spun around on stage and there were only two other humans that had that same gift. We were lucky enough to have all three of them among us at the same time – the Godfather of Soul, the Hardest Working Man in Show Business, the man who moved like no other – James Brown. 

I think of the T.A.M.I. Show when he hit that stage and folks had never seen anything like him. They didn’t know what to think. Mick Jagger mourned that he had to go on after James Brown. Nobody could dance like James Brown. My man surely had “the good foot.” And he did it to death.

Then we had Michael. You know who I mean. Michael Jackson of the shy smile and the movements that set peoples’ souls afire. Remember the first time you saw him do the Moon Walk? I do. I still watch that video in amazement. Or that lean in “Smooth Criminal.” Lord, yes, he was special.

And there was Prince. Unlike either of the others, he could pick up that guitar and make it talk to you. When he hit the stage in those high heels, he turned you inside out. Wherever he went, we went there too and we loved it and we loved him. We knew him just like he knew us.

These musicians reach down inside themselves and pull up their emotions and their thoughts and feelings and bravely share it with all of us. We know their joy, their pain, their angst, their fears, their hunger and their wonder. We know it cause we feel it too and we wonder how they knew how we were feeling too. They share themselves in a very intimate way and we love them for it. We feel close to them because we know they must feel close to us to touch our souls the way they do. We go to their concerts and we scream and laugh and cry and hold our hearts because we feel that connection more than ever when we see them and we know they feel us too. It is a wonderful feeling, isn’t it?

Prince shared his heart, his soul, his mind and his magic with us and we adored him. We didn’t mind when he got down to that part of us that was kind of nasty and hot and erotic. He was just putting words to how we felt too. So ok, some folks got upset and offended. Most of us knew just what he meant and it was all right with us. I mean, who among us hasn’t looked at someone who set our blood boiling and thought or said, “….you sexy motherfucker.”

You know you did. Don’t lie.

So we took him for granted. We just assumed he would be here with us. I remember he said he had enough music saved to keep us going for years and years and I was satisfied that he would be a part of my life as long as I lived.

Yesterday all that came crashing down. We didn’t want to believe it. I didn’t. I screamed when I read it, but at the same time, I knew it was true. I had been worried since I had heard he had been sick and they had taken him to a hospital in Moline, Illinois. I knew he would never not perform unless something was really wrong and I figured something was. I hoped he would still be there.

This year has been exceptionally unkind. We lost Natalie Cole and David Bowie and Glen Frey and Maurice White really close together. We have been staggering and sad for most of the year. We are losing our musical icons far too quickly this year and we are afraid and angry.

So no, I was not ready to lose Prince. I pulled out the program from the last time I saw him and looked at the pictures. I thought of the one time I was in his presence. I was backstage at the Essence Festival in New Orleans. 

It must have been 2003 or 2004, I’m not sure which year. Anyway, I was walking along with friends and we stopped to talk to someone and I felt the presence of someone looking at me from behind. I turned and there he was, in all his Badness, wearing skin tight black pants and a tank top with a shirt over it.

I am used to being in the presence of musicians – I have in one way or another all my life, so I quickly gathered myself and smiled and said, “Hello Prince, how are you?”

He gave me that not quite naughty smile and said, “Hello baby, I’m fine, how are you?”

I said, “I’m fine, thank you.”

His eyes took the slow tour up and down my body and that smile got even more naughty and he said, “Yes, you are. I can see that, baby.”

You know I walked around with the big head for a long time. How often do you get someone like Prince to not only give you The Eye, but tell you that you are fine? Yes Lord. My life was complete.

But yes, I loved Prince. I loved a man who dressed whatever way he wanted, purple jackets, white lace shirts, skin tight pants with buttons down the legs and high heels. I loved a man who wore his hair like his crown. He wore his mascara and he walked like he owned the whole world.

What did it matter that he was short? Who cared? He might have been small in stature but he was huge in our lives and in this world.

He did just what he wanted to do and we might have joked and laughed but we loved him. I knew no other man that could pull off wearing pants with cut outs showing his natural ass.

And did he show them who he was at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame playing “While My Guitar Gently Weeps?” He rocked it like a boss and then threw that guitar and walked away leaving us all in awe.

There was so much to Prince and we loved it all.

And now he is gone.

We will live and we will go on but we will sit down and hear “Little Red Corvette” or “When Doves Cry” and we will smile and sing along and we will think of the man with those beautiful eyes and that shy smile and that devilish demeanor and we will still love him.

He is, after all, our Prince. And so he shall remain. Go in Peace, Prince. Rest in Paradise. You will always be a part of us. 

Not Your Friend

Everybody Isn’t Your Friend

I was walking my dog down the street one day not long ago and we passed someone who was walking too. She didn’t speak to me, or really even acknowledge me but Lola was trying to get close to her and I pulled her back, saying, “Lola, stop, Everybody isn’t your friend,” and we kept walking.

A few steps later, the woman caught up with me and asked, “Why did you say that?”

“Say what?” I asked.

“That everybody isn’t your friend. Why would you tell your dog that?”

“Because everybody isn’t and the sooner she figures that out, the longer she will live.”

The woman’s face was red, “That’s a terrible thing to teach her!”

“It will save her life,” I retorted, “she won’t approach someone who could do her harm.”

I walked away from her.

There was a lot more that I wanted to say but I knew better. That woman wasn’t ready to hear the truth.

I am the only black person who lives on my street on my end of town. I am living in a little redneck town in North Florida. I’ve lived here before so I know how it is.

The people who are nice are really great. They are thoughtful and sweet and kind and will do anything for you. I love this place for that. I have had people reach out to me and show me incredible kindness that I will never forget.

But I have also seen people glowering at me when they saw me walking. One called the police reporting someone suspicious but luckily, the chief of police is a neighbor and he knew who I was and he told her to calm down.

I have seen the Confederate flags flying and I have seen the people who really hated the fact I was married to a white man who happens to be Jewish. I know where I stand here.

I hadn’t thought much about that phrase for a while, but I remember that my mother told me that when I was small.

“Everybody isn’t your friend, Brenda. Don’t talk so much. Don’t talk to people you don’t know,” she said.

When I was 5 or so, I was a little chatterbox and I talked to anyone and everyone who would indulge me. Mama was afraid something would happen to me and she gave me that warning several times in my life.

When we moved from Chicago to the town where I grew up, she reminded me again. I had learned that one already.

Mom had had my ears pierced when I was 6 or so and when we moved, I was the only little girl on the playground with pierced ears. I had been wearing a pair of gold hoops for years and never thought about it. I also was wearing thick glasses because I am severely nearsighted.

I was standing in the schoolyard one day when a couple of little black girls approached me. They started asking me questions and it was clear they weren’t being friendly. I was still trying to make friends and fit in but these girls were clearly hostile to me. They made fun of my glasses and my earrings and the way I spoke. I finally blew up and slapped one of them so hard her lip bled. They left me alone.

I knew then for sure that everybody wasn’t my friend. And I knew it wasn’t always a racial thing. Sometimes it’s just rude and stupid people. Sometimes it’s jealous, insecure people. And sometimes it’s just people who are downright mean.

But many times, it is racial. I know very well I have crossed paths with people who looked at me and wanted to hang me, burn me, beat me or drag me behind their car or truck, just because I am black. I know they hated that I am articulate, that I am smart and that I am attractive. It’s not what they believe I should be and they hate me for it.

I go where I want to go and I say what I want to say. I have never let anyone dictate the way I should live or what I should do. But still, I have always been cautious with people.

I rarely speak to people unless they speak to me first. I wait to see their reaction to me before I react to them. I know I stand back and watch people first and that while I may appear aloof and distant, I am really reserved and cautious.

I’m not walking up to someone with a smile so they can call me the N-word. I’m not going to give them the chance to insult or denigrate me at least to my face. I keep my distance and I wait till I think it’s safe.

I’m that way with men too. I am probably even more cautious with men than most of them like. I don’t want a man knowing where I live or what my phone number is until I want him to.

When I talk to men online, I have a set routine of how I want it to go. Many don’t like it and I don’t care. I am taking care of myself. If he sends me a message and I think I might like to talk to him, I respond. If that works, I will give him my email address and we can either exchange emails or we can chat online. If I still feel all right with him, I will then give him my number so that he can call me. And I mean it just like that, so he can call me.

If we still feel like it’s right, then and only then we can start to plan on when we can meet face to face. That can happen in a week, maybe 2 but often it takes longer. I have met too many men who instantly want to call me or text me.

What happens if we don’t hit it off or if I don’t like him as much as he likes me? He can call me or text me when I don’t want him to. I don’t want that so I am careful about how I proceed with that. I don’t want to meet him right away. I want to feel him out so I can see where his head is. He should feel the same way. We both should be careful we don’t get involved with someone who is dangerous or unbalanced.

I’m just as careful meeting someone face to face. I don’t want to pretend I like him or want to be with him because I am afraid of him. I know a lot of men can’t stand to be rejected and will turn mean and violent so I keep a wide berth. I rarely meet anyone eyes when I am walking down the street. I know that some men totally misinterpret friendliness for flirtation and I don’t want to go there.

So don’t bother telling me to smile when you see me. I am not going to smile unless I want to. I don’t want you all in my face unless I invite you there.

So maybe I am too careful. It could very well be. I don’t doubt it. I am sure I have offended people by being that way. But I know I have remained alive and safe because of it.

So no, everybody isn’t my friend. If you don’t like that, I am sorry.

 Just imagine if Emmitt Till had known that.

What about those girls that Ted Bundy lured into his car?

Or those boys that John Wayne Gacy killed?

I’m glad my mother taught me that. I’m sorry that most black mothers have to teach their children to be cautious like that.

I’m sorry that women don’t realize that they have to be more cautious with men.

I’m sorry that we have to teach children not to talk to strangers and not to trust people they don’t know.

We live in a world full of hate and anger and danger. We need to be more afraid of the people we meet. Realizing that everyone isn’t your friend can keep you safe.

What’s wrong with that? 

Can We Talk?

Has there really been more racism? Or was it always there and it was just on the DL? Are more racists emboldened because of their anger at our first African American president? Or was it there and nobody said anything?

I don’t know the reason but suddenly you can hardly read the news without somebody getting caught on tape, an open mic or writing something racist and hateful. Racists seem to have their own little world on Twitter and post stuff that would raise the hair of the person with the toughest hide. It makes you wonder – do they really hate me that much? What did I ever do for them to hate me like that?

When I was a young woman back in the Disco Days, I actually thought we’d somehow get past all the racism of the past. I thought the Civil Rights movement and the Black Power movement had taught us to look past all that. I thought more people heard what Dr. King said about the content of our character.

I’m going to make some folks mad, but oh well. I guess I have a right. I thought when some of the Greatest Generation passed on that they would take their racism with them.

Now before you start screaming, keep this in mind: that generation was the one that insisted that black folks walk down the street with their eyes down. They were the ones who called black men “boy.” They were the ones who took pictures of a lynching and stood there proudly posing with the evidence of what they had done. They were the ones who killed the 3 civil rights workers in Mississippi. One of them killed Emmitt Till. One of them bombed a church (!!) and killed 4 innocent little girls.

Those white women spitting hate at poor little Ruby Bridges? Yep. Them too. All that at a child. A little girl. And we all know what a little black girl is worth now, don’t we?

Bull Connor was one of them. So was George Wallace and Strom Thurmond. The Greatest Generation didn’t want to serve with black soldiers. The military had to be segregated for them. They were the ones that would not allow black soldiers to eat in the same mess hall with them – but fed German POW’s like they were guests.

They didn’t want to treat our veterans with any measure of respect after they came back from serving in WWII. Some of them beat a black vet to death because he got on a bus through the front door instead of the back.

Yeah, those people who mistreated my Mom and Dad so badly that when they left the South, they never wanted to go back.

That’s who I’m talking about. You know who they are – the so-called Greatest Generation.

But it seems they taught their kids some lessons about hate and discrimination and those kids taught their kids too. So it’s pretty clear this problem isn’t going anywhere any time soon.

I don’t have any illusions about it anymore. Racism is just as much a part of American culture as baseball and apple pie. I keep hearing about folks talking about these being post racial times and that things are so much better now. Really?

So how can a black woman who shot warning shots at a man who had been brutalizing her get arrested and charged and given a sentence of 20 years? She didn’t shoot him. She shot warning shots. But a white man shoots an unarmed teenager that he had been harassing and he walks around a free man right now.

If a young black man commits a crime – even a victimless crime – they throw the book at him. They have to get him off the street. He’s a menace. But if a white boy kills four innocent people, well, we don’t want to ruin his life. He made a mistake. People do. Besides, he’s so rich he didn’t know right from wrong. Let’s just give him probation. Uh huh.

Inner city men are to blame for our problems. An educated black woman is called an “ape.” I could go on and on but I won’t. It’s enough to make you really depressed and sad for what’s to come.

If we try to discuss it, folks accuse us of playing the race card. I guess we aren’t supposed to say anything about it. We should just forget it, right? Get over it. Things are better.

No. No, they aren’t.

I always knew that many white people talk one way when they’re with us and it’s completely something else when they are together and we aren’t there. But when you hear some of the comments that have been recorded or you see the venom in some of the posts on Facebook and Twitter, you begin to wonder.

You look at folks you know and you wonder what they say about you. You wonder if that person who is smiling in your face really thinks that he’s better than you simply because he’s white. It widens the gulf between us.

Oh dear God, there is a police car behind me! What does he want? I didn’t do anything! You struggle to get your license out and you speak slowly and you don’t make any sudden moves because you know it’s very likely that he will shoot you even though you didn’t do anything.

You’re black, after all.

I used to have a lot of hope. I guess I have looked at too much “Star Trek.” I thought we’d be moving towards that kind of society but we aren’t. We’re going backwards.

I wish I could wrap this up with some answers or solutions. I don’t have any. I wish we could talk to each other about this without blaming, getting defensive or anger.  

I look at interracial relationships and the beautiful children they create. I have biracial cousins and 2 beautiful biracial nephews that I love madly. When we get together, family wise, we have become a blended family of both races and I love that. I think maybe I’m wrong and that it will be better.

Then I read where a councilwoman in a town in New Jersey said that certain changes in her town would make it into a “fucking niggertown.”

In the words of Marvin Gaye, “it makes me wanna holler, throw up both my hands.”

I just don’t know. I think we’re doomed. Racism keeps us from being great. It keeps us from being united and being one people – Americans. And I don’t think much of anybody cares.

And that hurts.