Yesterday was a very strange day. I don't know about you but I felt the presence of a very strange energy in the atmosphere. I don't necessarily think that I can fully describe it but I do know that made me feel as if it was a sign of God's anger, God's sadness, and God wondering, "What the Hell is going on!"
I'm not just saying this because yesterday just so happened to be the day that Whitney Houston died. But her death is an example of the symbolism of the strange energy that seems to be in the air.
But what do I mean?
Whitney Houston was a troubled woman who some say died too young. I am extremely saddened by her death but it's not because of the fact that she died at the young age of 48. She was a troubled woman and, regardless of whether or not some people want to admit it, she was troubled long before her marriage to Bobby Brown. She was bred for disaster.
But what do I mean?
Whitney was groomed to experience failure due to the fact that she subscribed to the wrong kind of faith-the faith of others. She had faith in many things: Jesus, the church, her mother, her cousin Dionne, her voice, Clive Davis, her husband, her daughter, her entourage, her name, her drugs; anything and anyone but in herself. Whitney had what many people were jealous of and would have killed for: natural, God-given talent. Unfortunately, due to the desires of her family to "reach the top," which they instilled in her, Whitney began to walk down a dark and lonely path of selfishness and self-destruction. The walk was long and documented but even Stevie Wonder could see that it was only a matter of time before she reached the end of that road.
Not only am I saddened by Whitney Houston's death, but I am also disturbed. Whitney Houston was thought to have it all: good looks, great talent, money, fame and fortune. Clearly, even Ms. Houston herself couldn't and didn't even see all that she did have. From the outside looking in, at the beginning of her career, she was an idol-so much to the point that she helped to create a wave of female singers in the generation behind hers. But to be that idol and still feel the need to take drugs is a clear indication that something was not quite right. But in her mind and in her heart, she was not happy. There is no telling what she had to endure in order to reach "the top"-that story hasn't been told and maybe it never will. But what has been told: the years of drug abuse, the gradual loss of her magnificent voice-was a well documented spiral of grand proportions. I didn't know Whitney Houston and I could see that she was unhappy. I could see that she was in need of desperate help. I could see that she was living a lie and that she knew it too. The drugs were here release from the fantasy that is called life. She ran away from the chaos to find what she thought was peace. And now, whether accidentally or intentionally, she has reached the ultimate state of peace.
Whitney Houston's tragic story is not the first story ever known to tell the tale of a talented person in the music industry whose life is squandered. My disturbance comes in when I think about the fact that, in the month of Black History Month, Black History seems to be isolated to just the month of February. It is not something that most black people celebrate 365 days a year. It is not something that is truly studied, for both the good, the bad and the ugly. It is just the good news that someone wants to hear about someone doing something that's considered an accomplishment. But what about the history, or mistakes, that people in the past have made? Isn't it important to look at those facts in order to not repeat them? Billie Holiday is a perfect example. She died at the age of 44 in a hospital bed with almost no money to her name. Billie Holiday was a drug addict! She faced the ugly realities of racism and segregation in America and attempted to find an escape from the pain with the use of drugs. Billie Holiday didn't have any role models or mentors to help steer her from following this path. Her life should have set an example for generations to come about the dangers of drugs and the importance of having a strong sense of self. So what the hell happened to Whitney Houston?
No one seemed to teach her about the pitfalls of an industry that uses you and abuses you (especially if you are a woman), instead she was thrown into it for the "fame and fortune". No one told her that she could still be famous and begin her own record label instead of have to meet the demands and follow the rules of "the powers that be". No one seemed to instill in her the knowledge of how to love oneself, regardless of the pitfalls that life deals you.
There are definitely people to blame for Whitney Houston's "untimely" death. But if you take a real look to see who is really to blame, you might not like the answer. It's a hard pill to swallow. It might make you angry; you might even deny what you really do see. The History is there for you to see-all you have to do is not be fooled by the drugs that life provides and attempts to cover up what is really real. Let the history speak to you; don't cut it off after February 28 (or 29th this year). Don't limit the history that you experience-go as far back as you possibly can. History will always teach you something at the right time...make sure that you are ready for it! Don't let the death of Whitney Houston be whitewashed as just a sad, isolated event where you only want to focus on the positive things. Look at her whole life and if you look at it long enough, you'll begin to see that her death was a result of incorrect priorities, a wrong placement of values, and a lack of knowledge about avoiding the mistakes of the past in order to insure a sense of peace.
And I hope she now has a sense of peace. She went through a hell of a lot (unnecessarily) to get it.
