After watching Whitney Houston biopic, I was filled with emotions that I did not know what to do with. So I began to write. The end result was a letter I wrote to Whitney.
I would not dare to say that I know you after one biopic. It would be disrespectful for me to say, now I understand. However, as I watched your legendary story, interviews, and several of your performances that sent chills down my right arm, I was reminded of some things I know for sure, “but by the grace of God”… and, “you’re only a prayer away.”
It’s only by God’s grace I am who I am, and I have what I have today. Prayer has and still keeps me day by day.
The truth is, although many will try to understand, only God and you know what brought you pleasure and what brought you pain. What took you from that classy lady who stood on stage, breaking strong-holds on people’s lives with the power of your voice, restoring hope with your smile and making people feel something special. To the woman who was alone even when she wasn’t. Who lost herself in a different high than the one she gave her captivated audience. Who struggled with demons far stronger than a white powdery substance. Who was loved and yet needed to be loved.
Whitney. I wouldn’t dare act as if I know you, or your struggle. I don’t believe my experiences come close to your pain. What I do know, is life lived is powerful, yet so many of us struggle to live it. We are powerful creatures made in a powerful image yet it takes some of us all of our life to learn our own strength. To understand our worth. Some never learn.
You remind me of my Aunt. R.I.P “PJB.” I don’t think she knew how much she was loved and admired. I don’t think she understood that her presence meant something. No, she did not sing. She didn’t have a lot of money. She was not famous. She just had a presence that meant something. I adored her. I don’t think she knew it maybe she did. Either way she let the streets take her away. She dimmed her light in fear of being great. I knew that she was some one special, but the streets took her away. She died. A year later I was told. I could not cry. All I could think about was her struggle to live.
Although it was only a small part of your story, told from someone else’s perception. After watching your biopic I finally cried for my Aunt. I cried for her children. I cried for women who struggle with living their life, defeating depression, conquering their struggles and knowing their worth.
My prayer for myself and other women, rich or poor, famous or not, is that we learn our worth. That we understand our strength. I pray that we walk in God’s grace, knowing that our presence means something and continue to pray so that we can make it, day by day.
Rest in peace,