Why My Daughters Will Know Aaliyah: My Four Page Letter

Huffington Post article found here.

In the second grade, I recall asking a little boy at the playground to help me re-enact the Aaliyah & Jet Li defying-gravity-and-running-across-the-wall scene from Romeo Must Die… (As you can imagine, we were painfully unsuccessful).

In the third grade, we were asked to create mobiles of the things, places, and people that made us “us” – an introductory exercise to our new classmates.

I compiled the expected: pictures of immediate family, the Guyanese flag, my dog… Oh, and Aaliyah. When asked by classmates who she was – I went to an all-white school – I responded, “She’s my sister. ” And they believed me… Heck, I even believed me.

The month before that school year started, however, we lost an angel on Earth. Aaliyah Dana Haughton. And it shook up my itty bitty world.

In fact, I can remember exactly where I was when I found out that Saturday in August.

Like most summer weekends, I had spent the night at my aunt’s house in the country and my dad came to get me. For whatever reason, I didn’t like being out on a Sunday and always liked to be home as if I had work the next day (I was like eight… Eight-year-olds are weird). Anyway, we were driving home… On a dark and winding road, that seemed to be never-ending. I was surprised our radio even had signal. Or maybe I just wished we didn’t… Because that’s when I heard the news.

“Singer Aaliyah died in a plane crash in the Bahamas.”

My dad and I tried to keep our cool until we got home because, as I mentioned before, we had a dreary road ahead.

As soon as we got in the house, we immediately turned on the news only to confirm what we already could feel.

That night, I stared at my framed poster of Aaliyah on my wall until I could fall asleep. Confused, not quite understanding the finality of death. But still knowing that it was tragic.

“Gone too soon,” the grown-ups would say and the headlines would read.

She was only 22.

Now I know what you all are thinking… “Drake might not be the only one with a random tattoo of Aaliyah’s face on his back… This girl is obsessed.” But I just want to paint you a proper picture:

I was an eight-year-old mixed girl in a school of all white children, already standing out like a sore thumb. I wasn’t exactly black and I definitely wasn’t white. Being taller and plumper than the girls – and the boys – was just icing on my not so sweet cake. I was constantly gawked at – whether privately or blatantly; maliciously or inquisitively. That’s how it was… My parents did a great job of teaching me to embrace my differences, but as children, we sort of expect that from parents. But Aaliyah taught me that it was okay to stand out. More than okay, actually. My idiosyncrasies made me more than a woman.

Now… 15 years later… I am the same age she was at the time God wanted her back.

All of the mountains I have yet to move. All of the barriers I have yet to break. All of the places I have yet to see. All of the memories I have yet to make. All of the voices I have yet to hear. & Then there’s hers.

One you could never forget. So gentle and so sonically pleasing, she could serenade you without even singing.

And to think… She could never use it again.

I felt like I knew her. Because the only thing she wanted to do was to share her gift with the world. And she did.

Maybe that’s what it was. Her voice was etched in my memory since1997. I was only four yet immensely impressionable. Not to mention, Anastasia was my all-time favorite movie.

So, I vowed to make it my mission to carry my favorite artist in my heart. To honor her. Because, who didn’t want to be like Aaliyah? She was my Beyoncé before Beyoncé. She was my somebody.

That next year, I even bought a copy of Queen of the Damned despite my extreme fear of vampires and my parents warned me of the nightmares to come.

But I didn’t care... She meant that much to me. She still does. Arguably now more so than ever.

She was the ultimate feminist before feminism became a superficial phenomenon.

She was able to redefine sexy while retaining full autonomy over her body (which was definitely #goals). She was a guy’s girl. A tomboy (or should I say Tommy girl) yet sexy. A jazz personality with a G mentality.

Beyond her side swept bangs, she made sure to leave an eye as a window to her very soul – her music.

She couldn’t be confined to one subject... One mood… One vibe. You could turn up with her. You could cry with her.

You could also dust yourself off and try again… With her.

She taught us not to expect a Disney princess happy ending, but to be sensible about the relationships you indulge in. To learn from her mistakes and not allow the idea of something new sweep you off your feet. To live in the present, not in a daydream – as many pop contemporaries would often sing about.

And for that reason alone, I want to teach my future daughters what she taught me.

To love Aaliyah… Is to love yourself. And every little girl out there needs to know this:

At your best, you truly are love. You do not need permission to love yourself. Self-love isn’t selfish and anyone threatened by your confidence is company you don’t want to keep. You are one in a million. Be unapologetically empowered and you’ll be amazed at the good that will gravitate towards you.