Watching Whitney
I just watched the documentary about Whitney Houston. Of course, I cried through most of it. I cried for the potential that she had. I cried because she went through turmoil that she didn't have to endure. I cried because she was used and abused by the people who were supposed to protect her. I also cried because I know how heartbroken her mother had to be when she died and how crushed her daughter was as well.
On the latter note, I thought of how close Whitney and Bobbi Kristina probably were. I know I was super close to my mom. I always say, "probably too close." We shared a great deal of anguish but I may never know the extent of the hurt that she had experienced in her life. I know she and my father did not have the best relationship, actually not unlike that I saw between Whitney and Bobby Brown. I could relate to Bobbi Kristina being torn between two parents who are trying but are at a loss because of the insurmountable pain that they both share.
Whitney's voice, at the height of her popularity, was fantastic. It was grand. It was beautiful. Melodic. There just aren't enough adjectives to describe her sound. Selfishly, we fans enjoyed her despite her downs and in lieu of her ups. Two things that were new to me in this movie were how the Black community said she wasn't "black enough," and that she was abused as a child.
I could write and will probably write a totally different blog to address the "crabs in a barrel" and "Willie Lynch" syndrome that colonized Blacks put each other through. Suffice it to say, I never particularly cared for Reverend Al. I especially put him on a list of buffoons due to his so called boycott of Whitney. How rude! How unsupportive! Not to mention the Black people who booed her at the Soul Train awards in 1989!
Yet, everything Beyonce does is treated like its from the queen of all time? I've never been a fan of Bey. Seemed to be too packaged. Too counterfeit. Same goes for her husband, the camel. Yes, she works hard but she just doesn't hold a candle to Whitney. Or Alicia. Or back in the day Mariah. Plus, none of them ever danced like a stripper. I'm just saying, leave a little to the imagination.
Further, finding out about the abuse is certainly heartbreaking. There was a 1990 interview wherein she was quoted as saying child abuse makes her "angry." It really makes sense now. It's so horribly unfortunate to think that some adult had the brazenness to touch a child. Let alone, one of their own relatives. Again, a blog for another time because this is huge "secret" in the Black community.
Going to see the movie was a good purge of tears for me. More than I shed watching Amy but almost as much as watching the one about Princess Diana. These are women who were in such pain; without real hope of healing. Their only escape was death. . . and that escape pays the ultimate cost from which one is forever grievously healed.
On the latter note, I thought of how close Whitney and Bobbi Kristina probably were. I know I was super close to my mom. I always say, "probably too close." We shared a great deal of anguish but I may never know the extent of the hurt that she had experienced in her life. I know she and my father did not have the best relationship, actually not unlike that I saw between Whitney and Bobby Brown. I could relate to Bobbi Kristina being torn between two parents who are trying but are at a loss because of the insurmountable pain that they both share.
Whitney's voice, at the height of her popularity, was fantastic. It was grand. It was beautiful. Melodic. There just aren't enough adjectives to describe her sound. Selfishly, we fans enjoyed her despite her downs and in lieu of her ups. Two things that were new to me in this movie were how the Black community said she wasn't "black enough," and that she was abused as a child.
I could write and will probably write a totally different blog to address the "crabs in a barrel" and "Willie Lynch" syndrome that colonized Blacks put each other through. Suffice it to say, I never particularly cared for Reverend Al. I especially put him on a list of buffoons due to his so called boycott of Whitney. How rude! How unsupportive! Not to mention the Black people who booed her at the Soul Train awards in 1989!
Yet, everything Beyonce does is treated like its from the queen of all time? I've never been a fan of Bey. Seemed to be too packaged. Too counterfeit. Same goes for her husband, the camel. Yes, she works hard but she just doesn't hold a candle to Whitney. Or Alicia. Or back in the day Mariah. Plus, none of them ever danced like a stripper. I'm just saying, leave a little to the imagination.
Further, finding out about the abuse is certainly heartbreaking. There was a 1990 interview wherein she was quoted as saying child abuse makes her "angry." It really makes sense now. It's so horribly unfortunate to think that some adult had the brazenness to touch a child. Let alone, one of their own relatives. Again, a blog for another time because this is huge "secret" in the Black community.
Going to see the movie was a good purge of tears for me. More than I shed watching Amy but almost as much as watching the one about Princess Diana. These are women who were in such pain; without real hope of healing. Their only escape was death. . . and that escape pays the ultimate cost from which one is forever grievously healed.
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