This past weekend has been a heavy one for me…First the passing of Whitney Houston, then, the news from my father that I was not ready to hear. Whitney Houston was music that I grew up on. Her voice was the soundtrack to my youth. I used to have a hairstyle like she had in the movie Bodyguard, I thought I could sing like Whitney. Singing her songs with my offbeat non singing skills.
When I first heard of her drug addiction, I may have been on my own path of destruction. I wasn’t famous so nobody knew to publicize my dark nights filled with white powder and rapid heartbeats. When I finally stopped doing my one two, she was filming a show exhibiting hers; making a mockery of herself. And that’s all that’s remembered of her. Not the choir that she grew up in; not her big smile and laughter that may have been contagious; not the East Orange neighborhood where she is beloved. Since Saturday, the news has been flashing her indiscretions, with glimpses of her accomplishments. The term Rest in Peace means peace while resting eternally. In this technology age, that term means nothing, to anyone. We blog, paparazzi snaps photos, we have gossip columns, all of these platforms to exploit the dead of these celebrities, stars, famous people. How can their spirits rest in peace if their spirits have not had time to settle properly. I’m a firm believer in being connected to everything and everyone through a spiritual sense, that we as humans, animals, rocks, whatever, are spiritually connected. That when we break ties with someone our spirits are still holding hands. We are connected. So the more we exploit the failures of those who had visible problems; the more we expose more and more of what the public does not need to know; the more that spirit cannot rest in peace; then other spirits start rustling; they also are not at peace. So that makes my heart heavy.
I absolutely adore Whitney, and her last album, I Look to You, was her last cry for help; I would like to think. She was reaching, for someone, for anyone, other than those around her who may have constantly been telling her to stop, to get better. I know that I got better when the people who were always telling me to stop, stopped telling me. It was the strangers, those that didn’t really know my addiction, my personal life, it was only when they told me to stop that I heard it. My mother always says “It always takes someone else besides me to tell you what you need to do, when I say it, it goes in one ear…” we all know the rest. The people that could have had the most influence on her, to quit the madness she was quickly slipping in, may have dug her deeper into it. To be famous and an addict and exposed…I have the faintest idea. I mean, I like to be by myself, in my solitude and watch something on television, listen to the radio, something like that. How could she watch television, listen to the radio when they are exposing her? How is that building her up, how is her spirit able to move forward when people are preying and praying for her downfall? Really? If you have never been in the darkest place of your soul, then this post will make no sense, and I will sound ridiculous. I eat that. If you have been in a place when a substance has had a stronghold on you, then you understand the madness that your body and mind puts you through to stop.
The media is a technological circus with tricks and acts that will cause your spirit to weep and cry, it is out to seek and destroy. No longer does it just inform, it saturates the soul with madness, conditions you to think and speak with no regards to manners, to your own morals and values. It is destruction, the media. And through this death, it has made me turn off the television that I rarely watch anyway. It has made me thank my faith for surrounding me with people who were strong in their stance of my recovery.
Who stood in the gap for her recovery, who stood up to any energies that were against her? Sure we prayed for her, intercessors were reached out to…I’m saying who really removed her away from herself and looked her in her face…I don’t know. I’m saddened is all. She was an icon that I felt in my heart and soul. As I once said, before Mary J Blige, there was Whitney in my heart…she moved me. She is and always will be the Greatest Gift and Voice that God has blessed and allowed us to listen to. And I believe that with all of my heart…I stayed up Saturday night until five in the morning, crying and mourning for a fellow sister of addiction, woman of the night, for an anointed and chosen soul such as hers. I will stand in the gap for all of the women of the night, the women who are caught up in addiction, who do not love themselves enough to stop. Who do not know that they are worth more than suffocating their bodies and vessels with substances and diseases and self-abuse. I will continue to cry for those who may not be able to produce tears for their own sanity. I will be a martyr for those who will not die for themselves only to be reborn in a healing spirit. I will remember Whitney for her music, for her strength to try, for her being as a person. And believe me, I know, it takes the person to want to, I know. The thing is, when you get caught up, you want to get out. It just sounds easier than it really is.
My faith tells me that Evil cannot do anything to God’s children without asking God first if he can have a chance to get the chosen. And God says “If you can get them you can have them.”
Whitney Elizabeth Houston August 9, 1963 – February 11, 2012