Life Is Not a Fairy Tale (16 page)

Those conversations usually never amounted to much. But they were something I had to do. These conversations were “something to do.” At the end of the day, my girls and I would compare notes and see how many of us had the same conversations with T-Money, Ace, or Grip. Usually, by the end of the day, we had all been promised a call. Those guys would never call, but we walked the next day, looking slightly sexier than the day before, hoping that someone really would call. Or that someone really would ask for our number. Or that someone really would call the number that we gave them. We just kept tryin’, believin’ that some day we would meet someone who would spend some time and get to know us. We hadn’t considered what we were wearing might be why we just kept having those conversations and gettin’ no calls. Isn’t that how it is with women—we just keep hopin’.

I was settling for all kinds of bad imitations of men. The truth is that most of those guys were the same. They were the sons of unmarried mothers and none of them had daddies. The fathers in their lives had been high or drunk or “uncles” who were not their fathers but the boyfriend of their young mothers. These men that I was choosing from didn’t know how to treat a woman except for what they had seen in the videos. They wanted us if we looked good and they didn’t have to get to know us. They never make videos about getting to know someone. I’m telling you about those times because what I learned from them is simple: The way you dress determines the kind of man you are going to attract. You never really “get” a man looking like that because he is not looking to be gotten. Guys like that are not really looking for a woman. They are lookin’ for hootchie mamas. Remember, hootchie mamas are not real. They are just video stars.

If you are an outrageous hootchie mama, if you go out with your body parts hangin’ out, just know you are leaving nothin’ to the imagination of a man.
Everything
you have is already out there. There is nothing to dream about or even to call about. If you have enough clothes on, then a man has the chance to see the other parts of you: your inner beauty and your personality. If a man isn’t attracted to you because of those things, you probably shouldn’t want him. The problem with being a hootchie mama is that you’re creating relationships that are based only on your physical appearance. When you gain a few extra pounds or don’t wear a short skirt one day, your man will be able to say, “You don’t look the way you used to,” and then he will eventually leave you to find someone who looks like you used to, because he wanted only one thing—a hootchie mama—which is what you were when you met him.

If a guy chooses you for something inside of you, he wants to be with you long enough to keep finding out who you really are. He cares about your personal characteristics, things like your smile, your sense of humor, the things that you dream about, the things that you want for your life, your children, your family—the things that
matter.
Instead, if you’re behaving and looking like a hootchie mama, he’s just thinking about how to take the rest of your clothes off.

I can’t say that I don’t understand this. I understand because I used to dress like that. Although I had so much more to offer, I wasn’t sure it was enough to get a guy. I had my sweet spirit, my open heart, my generosity, my love of music, my vocal gift, and my special relationship with God. But I still thought I needed to dress sexy to get attention. The attention I was getting was crap. It was a whole bunch of bulls**t. Excuse me for my language, but it just makes me mad that I wasted so much of my time when I was younger trying to find a relationship, and I was goin’ about it all wrong. No one told me—or maybe they did and I didn’t listen (again!).

I remember the exact day that I wanted to stop being a hootchie mama. I was visiting a church with my grandmother and she asked me to please dress right. She said, “I don’t want to see you in those crazy clothes you wear!” Although I knew what she was referring to, I didn’t want to think of myself in those “boring” clothes that my grandmother had asked me to wear. Because my grandmother is a minister, she forgave me for a lot of stuff, but she would never tolerate my wearing hootchie clothes and “being nakit” as she called it. When we walked into the church we were visiting, I noticed several men lookin’ at me. They were lookin’ at me in a way that I didn’t know how to handle. They didn’t have gold teeth or cell phones. They were proper gentlemen. They were church-going men. One of them came over to me and asked if he could help me in the door by carrying my bag. My grandmother seemed used to it. I had never seen a man act like that in my life. I was in shock and I didn’t know how to handle it. I just said yes quietly, not even knowing what I was agreeing to. When we sat down on the front row with all the other ministers and their families, I just sat there realizing that although the man was lookin’ at me, he was lookin’ at me in a way that I had never experienced. It made me feel better than all those useless conversations put together. I sat in that prayer service and promised God that I would put my clothes back on.

It was hard going back into the life that I had created with all of my girls and our hootchie uniform. They were lookin’ at me like I was crazy when I suggested wearing a longer skirt. They just kept sayin’, “You are not going to get any play,” and that scared me into thinking the way that I used to: “What was I without the attention of men?” I knew this fear well because I had seen my aunts go through the same thing. But when we were with my grandmother we all were forced to cover up, and it was remarkable how popular we became when we went to visit other churches with my grandmother. I loved the feeling of those Christian eyes on me, but those men were out of my league. They were older than me and I didn’t know how to be any other way than a hootchie mama.

Truth is, the way you dress and the way you carry yourself attracts a certain kind of man. Every woman wants good and loving attention from her man and wants to be able to say that she has a man who really cares about her. That is what I always really wanted—and still do today. In my early life, I didn’t have any good examples of the kind of man that I now want and I couldn’t admit that what I really wanted was love. I grew up seeing women and men fighting with each other, calling the police on each other, and cheating on each other. I saw them hitting each other a lot too. I thought that anger, lies, and violence were a part of what made a grown-folks relationship. That’s all I ever saw.

Every human being wants to be loved for who they are, not what they look like. This is especially true for women. We want to be loved inside and out for our conversation, our smile, our spirit. There are so many more things that make a man fall in love with a woman. Being half naked and showin’ all you got is
not
the way, even though it seems like the best way to get a man. It’s the media that has set us up to think like this.

The first time a guy addressed me with “What’s up, ho?” I knew that I had to change
everything.
And I remembered that man at the church who offered to carry my bag, even though it wasn’t even heavy. He just wanted to do it to make it easier for me. Suddenly I had new view of men. “Hey, ho” is a common greeting for the girls in the neighborhood. That’s what we say to each other! Although we think it’s a cool way of saying “What’s up?” it really isn’t cool and our children shouldn’t hear us talk to each other like that and they definitely shouldn’t hear our men talk to us like that.

If you have a child, like I do, you don’t want your son or daughter to see you like that and hear you being disrespectful to anyone or disrespected by anyone, even your friends. Frankly, you have to keep your children away from all of that. You have to class up your life, especially if you have a daughter. Classing up your life means raisin’ your standards. Being stricter about what you will or won’t do. Knowing the things that you will or won’t tolerate around you and your kids. Knowing what you will or won’t say. That’s showing class—having standards. Your daughter needs to know that she doesn’t have to show her body to get attention. You have to be the good example. Let your children see you leaving something to a man’s imagination—not only for your children’s sake, but for your own sake, as well. Your man (or potential man) will wonder what you must look like under your clothes.

Mystery is what makes a man call, because he really is interested in finding out
more
about you. He may even think that you could be his wife, someday. A man doesn’t really want someone who carries herself like a hootchie mama. Besides hootchie mamas are not the kind of woman he would want to introduce to his own mama. You can be a little sexy, but class it up,
please.

I’m not here to give fashion advice, because every woman has her own unique style. For me, I try to wear pant-suits, because they can show some of my body—but not too much of it. I wear fitted shirts that show my femininity, but not too much of my skin. I wear stylish cuts and colors to show that I’m in music, and, of course, I wear some outrageous shoes to show that I still love to have fun and am a little rebellious. Being fully dressed can say as much about you or more than taking all your clothes off.

All I am asking of you, my sistas, is to take yourself more seriously. Set a good example for your children and their friends. It doesn’t matter how high your heels are or even if you wear short skirts from time to time. What it mostly boils down to is how you carry yourself. Look like a woman who loves and respects herself, not like a woman desperate for a man’s attention.

This chapter is dedicated to my sistas—all the women in the world. I write this chapter for all the women and the daughters who have felt that they don’t have the love in life that they want. Good love in your life doesn’t have to come in the form of a man. The best love in your life is your self-love.

I
have some things
that I need to get off my chest. Writing this book has been a powerful and emotional experience for me because it freed me to remember the things that have been too painful for me to remember clearly or even talk about. Everything in this book has made me who I am, so at this point, I am feelin’ all kinds of things. I am feelin’ proud, accomplished, and afraid of what will happen to me now that I have kept it real. And I feel ashamed about many of the things that I have done. Being in the public eye is a hard place to keep it real. Most people have a hard enough time just keepin’ it real within their own home with family and friends. Keepin’ it real for the whole world to see is scary. But as my grandma says, “The truth shall set you free.” I am ready to be free.

Some of these memories have been difficult to deal with, but I feel like I am a better person for sharing them with the world and getting all of my secrets out once and for all.

But while I’ve shared everything that I’ve been through, there are still a few things I need to say or I would not be totally real in tellin’ my story.

Why is it so hard for people to keep it real? I don’t know about yours, but my life has been filled with secrets. My personal secrets and my family secrets have come to haunt me throughout the years. Growin’ up, I remember there were so many unanswered questions and mysteries in our house. Why is Rico’s last name Washington and not Barrino? Why do my parents sleep in separate bedrooms? What was behind what happened to Aunt Rayda? Why did I need to hide the fact that I can’t read very well? Why did Zion’s daddy abandon her? Why did my father cheat on my mother? Why did my grandpa Neil beat my grandma? Seeking the answers to these questions has been difficult. No one ever wanted to talk about these things. But the unanswered questions have inspired me to look for truth in everything I do. That is one of the reasons for this book. Many of the answers to those questions have been found, and some require a little more exploration, but what remains the truth of these secrets is that beneath all of them, there lies a sticky mess called
shame.

Take it from me, shame is a terrible thing to live with. It’s the thing that keeps our heads down. It’s the reason our baby daddies leave us. It’s the reason my drunken grandfather hit his wife. Shame is the reason I couldn’t read. It’s my own shame and that of others who were too scared to say it out loud. It’s my shame of not saying, “I’m having a difficult time reading.” It’s my teachers’s shame in not admitting that their student couldn’t read. It’s the principal’s shame in not wanting to admit that his teacher passed a student who couldn’t read, and on and on and on. This shame is the reason that today I live with the secret of my illiteracy. But it is a secret no more. And my heart races just thinkin’ about what this fact will mean to my future. The only other option would be to keep coverin’ it up. Keep fakin’ it. Keep makin’ up excuses like “I didn’t have time to look over the contract” or “I didn’t know how to get there, so you should come get me” or “I left my license at home, you have to drive.” I have had enough of keepin’ secrets to hide my shame, and although it will be hard when all the secrets of my life come out, I will finally be free. I am ready.

When I first started getting into music, the phrase “keep it real” was all around me in the secular music that we all grew up listening to. It was in hip-hop songs referring to being real to the grittiness of your neighborhood and true to your race and true to the ghetto. In R&B it was about being true to someone who you loved. In jazz it was about being true to your instrument and not watering down the free-flow sound of “real” jazz. In rock, it was about keeping it loud and hard and strong. The realness of music took my heart. Music was the place other than church that I found peace.

My grandmother always taught us to be honest and truthful. She used to say you have to tell the truth even if you are right or wrong. That has stayed with me. And now, even though I have been wrong so many times in my life, I’m ready to keep it real with myself and the world. I hope that this inspires you to do the same thing in your own life. It’s the only way to really live.

I have written a lot about High Point. I haven’t said too many good things about it, but I’m tellin’ the truth. High Point is my home, and I’m proud that my picture is the welcoming point for entering the city. I feel that it is OK that I say those things because
I was there.
A lot of young people in High Point are depressed. That is the truth. They wouldn’t say it, if you asked them plain, but if you asked them to describe their lives they would admit they are doing nothin’. They have children, they have hopes for their children, but they don’t even know how to begin livin’. High Point is a depressing place for anyone who is not a furniture-store owner. High Point is all about furniture and nothing else.

There are a lot of depressed people walking around High Point, and many of them feel like they will never get out. Some of them never will.

With the overall feeling of helplessness comes a big sense of laziness that I was once a part of. There were no jobs and no motivation to move forward and so I just laid around with my friends and family, waiting for the next thing to happen. You know, “somethin’ to do.”

When
American Idol
happened to me, it was as though ice-cold water was thrown in my face and snapped me out of my haze. Suddenly, there were so many things to do, almost too many things to do and not enough time to do them. As the
American Idol
experience unfolded for me, it was important to me to take as much of home as I could carry. I was able to take my brother and my girl Aseelah on the road with me. I also tried to reach back by givin’ my friend, J., a drummin’ gig on my tour. J. only lasted a week. After he left the tour, I wondered whether he left because he was scared that he couldn’t keep up with the Los Angeles musicians, who have a lot more experience than him. But the difference between those musicians and J. is that he had the gig, and those L.A. musicians didn’t. When he left, I thought he really gave up on himself. I never gave up on him.

That made me mad and it really hurt me. When a door is opened for you, you have to step up your game. J. went home and no one told me until it was too late. I just hate that it went down like that, but being out here on the road carries a lot of pressure. There are so many things goin’ on at once, and I didn’t have enough time to try to convince him to stay. We had to replace the drummer fast. Music is a fast life, and if you truly hunger for music, like all great musicians do, the fastness is a necessary part of it. You have to dust yourself off and not let fear of messin’ up slow you down. I know it all must have seemed overwhelming to J. I also know that the L.A. musicians were learning songs in only a few hours, and I think J. was scared that he couldn’t do that. He could have done it, I know he could have, with our help.

Anyone with talent and hunger can succeed when given the chance. And even if you do mess up, let the boss fire you—don’t fire yourself! Not when your dream is at stake. Don’t miss out on opportunities, even if they seem scary. I wish I could call him today, but now there is probably bad blood between us. I would say to him, “Believe that you are as good as anyone else. Don’t compare yourself to other people. You are your only competition, and you can do anything that you put your mind to!” I chose J. because I loved him and his drumming and I really wanted him to have an unbelievable chance for his future and a ticket out of High Point. He should have kept it real with me and I would have helped him get what he needed.

Who knows the real reason that J. left, without even telling me to my face? Maybe, like so many of my friends, he wasn’t able to read music. If that’s true, maybe that shame made him feel like he couldn’t do it. That’s just another dream that shame has squashed.

To keep it real hurts. It hurts to uncover so much secrecy and answer so many unanswered questions. To see so many of the people that I grew up with not reaching their dreams is hurtful. If I could do it,
anyone
can do it! It pains me to see the weight of High Point’s boredom weighing everyone down. I’m sure that there are more towns like High Point tucked away in America where young people are givin’ up on their dreams. If I could do something, I would say, “Help!” I would say that to all folks in the small cities and all the kids feelin’ lost in the big cities in America. I would say that the young people in America need your help. If a young person is being passed through high school just because a teacher doesn’t want to deal with him, those teachers don’t realize that they are ruinin’ a whole life. That decision will affect all the other lives that will touch this young person’s life through the hurt and shame that comes with lack of education. The impact goes on and on and on.

It’s time for everyone to keep it real. If you can’t do something because you don’t know how to do something, you have to speak up. There’s no longer room for bein’ ashamed or keepin’ junk a secret. Like my album says, “Free yourself.”

When I’m keepin’ it real with my fans I have to first say thank you from the bottom of my heart. I love y’all. But I wouldn’t be ’Tasia if I didn’t keep it real with you, too. Those of you who have met me know that I’m always happy to take pictures with y’all, give hugs, sign autographs—anythin’ you want. But the one thing that upsets me is when someone is rude and acts like I have to do these things. I appreciate so much that so many of you voted for me and helped me get my music out there. I love to sing my heart out and I made an album and did a tour so that you could see me in person and share my music with me. I also love going to the radio stations across the country to keep in close touch with my fans. I don’t want to feel like I have to do these things. I want to do these things because I love y’all and I appreciate your love.

Also, y’all do know that I love to eat. I would like to ask all my fans for one little favor. When I sit down in a restaurant, it’s the only time on the road that I can enjoy a meal and take a little break. I’m always happy to talk to you and sign autographs and take pictures with you and your children—as soon as I’m finished eating and as long as time allows but I would really appreciate it if you would wait to show me your love until
after
I eat. Think of it as givin’ me your love by letting me eat!

Lastly, as much as I love y’all, I can’t come to all of your houses or call your mother on the phone from the mall. Please just treat me like your home girl and don’t ask me to do things that are outrageous. You know, I hate saying no, but some of those things you ask me to do are impossible and I just can’t do it!

To keep it real with my music, my music and my story reach people of all races and all ages. My music is R&B, but my singin’ is inspired by the Holy Spirit, which is universal. I have sung at the Kennedy Center for Elton John. I have sung with Patti LaBelle, who invited me to sing with her (which rarely happens). I have been on every national talk show several times over. I have sung for Oprah Winfrey. My music is not just black music and that is
proven.
Look at me. The black audience alone didn’t get me to over a million CDs sold. My music is not just a ghetto thing. It’s not only people in the ghetto who go through hard times. It’s not only people in the ghetto who are single parents. It’s not only men in the ghetto who leave their families. Whether it’s because of being broke and immature or because the corporate father is having an affair with his secretary, bad men and bad people exist everywhere. Sit down and watch Maury Povich, and you’ll see all kinds of women who have been beaten and abandoned.
Everybody
is goin’ through
somethin’.
I have songs that everybody can relate to.

Y’all know that I want to go as far as I can in the music business, and I believe the sky is the limit for me. I love all music. I know all music. I won’t be stuck in the ghetto category. I’m just not havin’ it. Look at the things I’ve done.
And let me show you what else I can do.

To keep it real with Zion, I have to write about the hardest things that any mother thinks about. What do I say to Zion about my life, which has been pretty full of drama since the day I turned five and the Holy Spirit entered my life? How do I tell Zion that the Spirit was in me and I still fought it for years, staying out of school, getting pregnant so young, and not listening to my parents?

Zion, I want to tell you how much I love you and how proud I am that you are my daughter. I also want to tell you that I have learned a lot in the last few years and some day I will be able to share it all with you. For now, I want to apologize to you for not being in your life and leaving you with your grandmother so much. You are in good hands with her. She is my best friend and she is like a sister to me. She has helped me with everything in my life, including taking care of you. I hope that when you grow up, someday, you will be able to say the same thing about me. I want to be your mother, but I also want to be your friend. When you get to be a big girl, then, maybe we can talk about all the things that I have done and all the choices that I have made that have changed your life already, and you don’t even realize it.

When you start school, you’ll be asked who your mommy is and why she’s never at home. People will ask you why your grandmother and grandfather don’t speak to each other. They will ask you where your father is and why he doesn’t live with you.

It’s a long story and it will take years for me to make you understand. This book is the beginning of me telling you all about our lives—yours, mine, Grandma’s and Great-grandma’s.

We have all had it hard, Zion, and the reason I’m away so much is because I don’t want you to have to say that you too had it hard. I’ve had it hard enough for the both of us, and I work so hard so that your life will be good. But the thing about life is that the things that I need to work out for myself are the things to make life better for you, at least what I think will make it better for you.