My Life through Nippy
“Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.”
I went to see the Whitney Houston movie the other day and there was so much I could relate to. I've been a huge Whitney fan since I was a little girl. When Hurricane Katrina hit I still had a framed poster of her hanging up in my room. It was just something about her presence that mesmerized me. Yes, she could sing, but it was so much more. Her songs just connected with me in a way that helped me to get through life. I could find comfort in almost every song she sang. After all, she released her debut album on February 14, 1985, my 4th birthday. I won't even get into the numerology and the significance of the number 4 and how it has followed me through life. I'll just say, that this is a connection that was always meant to be.
The world knew her as Whitney Houston, but those closest to her knew her as Nippy. Throughout the movie, several people discussed her desire to just be normal. Whitney was seen as the model for the girl next door. She had been raised in the church with two loving parents and a beautiful family. She was humble and meek and had the voice of an angel. But behind the public persona, Nippy just wanted to be. A few of my friends have this joke. They'll call me to talk about something and say, "I don't want to talk to Kimberland. Put Kim on the phone." Kimberland is my public face. Kimberland is the life coach, the mentor, the dream awakening influencer who always has something deep and insightful to say. Kimberland listens and gives the best advice. Kimberland thinks before she speaks and acts, always responding, never reacting. Kimberland operates in excellence, never settling for mediocrity. Kimberland is well put together and uses the King's English with all the best vocabulary words.
I had to grow into Kimberland. Kimberland, pronounced like England. That's how my mom taught me to explain it. Being Kimberland used to make me feel uncomfortable. First of all, my name never fit in the spaces for standardized testing. It was so long. Then people couldn't pronounce it. They'd call me Kimberly (which means they stopped reading after they saw the L). And that is NOT my name. Others would call me Kimber-LAND. The running joke was, "I'm going to Kimber-LAND!!" But I guess in the grand scheme of things, being compared to Disney Land wasn't the worst insult in the world. Nonetheless, to simplify things I just went with Kim. Back then, Kim meant that I wasn't a threat to you. I didn't make you feel uncomfortable. I was simple and basic. Nothing special to see here. You see Kimberland made and still makes some people uncomfortable because Kimberland is unique and set apart. One of my grade school friends said I was the standard in his house. His mom would say, "Is Kimberland Jackson talking in class?? Is Kimberland Jackson turning her assignments in late?? (If she only knew about those homework slips.) Why can't you be at the top of the class like Kimberland Jackson? Why can't you make good choices like Kimberland Jackson?"
What folks didn't know is that I hated Kimberland Jackson. Kimberland had so much pressure. Kimberland wasn't allowed to fail. Kimberland wasn't allowed to have feelings. Kimberland was always happy and always did the right thing. Kimberland Jackson was viewed as someone who thought she was better than others. Y'all as far back as Kindergarten I can remember girls hating me because "I thought I was all that." I used to take an alternate route when walking home from school because the girls in the first block of my neighborhood wanted to fight me because I was just me. I was literally minding my own business and they hated me for it. What they didn't even know is that Kimberland had to be as close to perfect as possible in order to protect Kim from all that was going on at home. So Kim had to get off the bus and "act common." Kim learned to curse with the best of them. That was literally my job in middle school. When girls wanted to fight my friends and I, I was the first line of defense. I'd curse them up and down, left to right, back and forth. Then if that didn't work my friends would handle the fighting, cuz y'all know I had to get home by 4 o'clock. The problem with living this dual life is that it becomes exhausting. You spend significant amounts of time trying to protect yourself from judgement. When in real life, you're just you.
Gratefully, I have healed Kimberland and Kim. Today I understand that no matter how hard I try I won't ever be able to blend into the crowd. God just didn't make me that way. And today, I'm okay with that. But still, some days, I just want to be Kim. Some days I don't want to say anything deep or have a life impacting revelation to impart into someone's life. Some days I just want to do nothing. Some days I don't even want to put on pants. I've learned that that's ok. It's okay for me to detach into the world of Kim so that I'm able to effectively be Kimberland. Today, I'm free from judgement. Today Kim and Kimberland can exist in the same place.
If only Whitney had been able to do that. If only she had been able to heal Nippy and walk as Whitney at the same time, we'd still have her amazing talent here on this earth. But I thank God for the example she left behind. Whitney left this earth a few days before my 31st birthday (3+1=4). The songs that follow are by no means an exhaustive list of the one's that I love. These are just a few of the songs that helped me through key moments of my life as she was struggling through hers.
The Greatest Love of All (1986)
When I was a little girl I was very shy and quiet (I know some of you are finding this hard to believe, but it's so true. I promise). And I hear I used to cry a lot. From what I understand, I used to keep a tear on the brink, ready to roll out at any time. I'm not sure why I was so sad (or maybe I was just always sensitive), but I've been told by many in my family that I was. I was always a people watcher, opting to observe, rather than engage. That has followed me throughout my life. I just feel like everyone isn't worth my words and energy. ((shoulder shrug)) I prefer to connect with people on a deeper level that will allow me to create a genuine relationship. I always had a way of sensing when others' needed a friend or a smile. Maybe because I wanted them to see that I needed a friend or a smile. I had a fascination with matters of the heart. I was always drawn to love songs. Though I was definitely too young to understand the nuances, I could feel the emotions that went into the creation of the songs. I remember singing Minnie Riperton, "Loving You" at the top of my lungs. It was something about those high notes that just spoke to me. But back to Whitney.
My very first favorite Whitney song as a young child and to this day is "The Greatest Love of All." I would sing it everywhere. I sang it in talent shows. I sang it in the car. I sang it in the house. I sang it in my grandmother's backyard. I sang it on top of tables armed with my hair brush microphone. LOL. I still remember being kicked out of the house because I wouldn't stop singing. I would hear the song and immediately go into a performance. ((sigh)) I would have made Whitney so proud. I took every single word to heart and they spoke so clearly to me.
I believe the children are our future.
Teach them well and let them lead the way.
Show them all the beauty they possess inside.
Give them a sense, a pride.
To make it easier.
Let the children's laughter, remind us how we used to be.
Everybody's searching for a hero.
People need someone to look up to.
I never found anyone who fulfilled my needs.
A lonely place to be.
So I learned to depend on me.
I decided long ago, never to walk in anyone's shadows.
If I failed, if I succeed, at least I did as I believe.
No matter what they take from me,
They can't take away my dignity.
Because the greatest love of all, is happening to me.
I've found the greatest love of all inside of me.
The greatest love of all is easy to achieve.
Learning to love yourself, it is the greatest love of all.
And if by chance that special place that you've been dreaming of
leads you to a lonely place.
Find your strength in love.
Even though I was only about 5 or 6 years old, there was something about the message that drew me in. I could relate to the message of hope and resilience. Even at that young age I realized that I had to find love within myself to be able to make it. I understood, even then, that I had to depend on me no matter what happened on the outside. No matter what mean words were spoken to me or how empty I felt, that I could keep my dignity. No one could take that away from me. No matter how hard they tried. And how they have tried. That lesson has followed me through life as I've had to fight to love myself through it all.
I Wanna Dance With Somebody (1987)
Dancing is my escape from the world. I started dancing when I was 3 years old. Y'all I was cute as a button. I wish I had the pictures to show you, but Katrina swallowed them up. I was trained in ballet, jazz, and tap. I had no problems waking up on Saturday mornings to get ready to go to Deirdre's School of Dance. My routine was to get dressed, eat breakfast, watch Pee Wee's Playhouse and Whitney Houston's "I Wanna Dance with Somebody." That song always put me into the right mood. She looked so happy and free. I wanted that.
It's something about dancing that transports you to a different world. It allows you to escape from the present and go to a place where you have control. You're able to connect on a deeper level with your body and emotions. Dancing is medicine and meditation all at the same time. Though I left dancing school once my brother was born, it stayed in my heart. I continued to dance throughout my childhood. Being from New Orleans, there is always a song and dance in our hearts. Whether it be second line dancing or twerking to a bounce beat, we never stop moving. In high school, I marched in parades and danced to entertain the Mardi Gras crowds. In college, I connected with African dance. The natural rhythms of the drums and the instinctive movements allowed me to connect to the strength my ancestors left for me as they found a way to survive in a country that hated them. I also danced on the half-time dance team in college. That experience allowed me to connect to my body in a way that I never had. The challenge of choreography and execution left me so fulfilled as we left it all out on the floor each and every game. If you were ever looking for me a a party or at a club, you could bet I was on the dance floor. Not to mention, it's free exercise. As I entered adulthood, dancing became a way to keep me sane. I danced with a semi-professional dance company for a while. It was therapy for me. It brought out emotions that I left buried deep inside. Though I no longer dance on stages, it is my go to stress reliever. Dance is life.
***Trigger Warning***
The Bodyguard Soundtrack (1992)
A few months ago a friend of mine surprised me with a ticket to "The Bodyguard Live." I don't think he really knew how much it meant to me to be able to go to see that show. The Bodyguard came out in 1992. I was eleven years old. I've written before how I used to listen to the tape on repeat on some of those tough nights when I had to pretend that everything was OK. My favorite song from the soundtrack was "Jesus Loves Me." Such a simple song.
Jesus loves me, this I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong
They are weak, but He is strong.
Yes Jesus loves me.
Oh, yes Jesus loves me.
Yes Jesus loves me.
For the Bible tells me so.
I learned about Jesus as a young child. I went to a Christian school from Preschool-12th grade. My innocence allowed me to fully accept Christ at an early age. I don't even really remember when that day was. I just know He's always been a part of my life. I now know that God set me apart to stand out from the moment I was formed. I'm now so grateful for that, because I'm fully certain that I wouldn't have made it had I not had an understanding of who He is. By the time I was in 6th grade. I had tried to smother myself several times. It never quite worked. I don't think I was serious about it, at least not serious enough to do something more permanent. But I really just wanted the pain to stop. I was tired of crying and couldn't understand why God was allowing me to experience so much heartache. So when my attempts didn't work and I had no more tears left to cry, I turned to "Jesus Loves Me." This became my heart song for quite a few years. It was a constant reminder to me that God had not left me, even though I felt like I was alone. When things got tough, I reminded myself that Jesus loved me and He always would. Even though I felt weak, He'd be strong for me. It was so comforting. Still is.
Count On Me (1995)
I was so excited to go to high school. All of my friends were going to different places, but I was so excited to go to the prestigious Xavier University Preparatory School. I couldn't wait to wear a school uniform. Plaid skirt, oxford shoes, a monogrammed vest and sweater. Oh yeah, I was going to be sharp. Uniform also meant that I didn't have to wake up early to figure out what I was going to wear. I valued sleep. LOL. I couldn't wait to have black teachers and be surrounded by other black girls who were smart and ready to conquer the world. I remember telling my mom that if I didn't get into Prep that I wouldn't go to school. LOL. I was that serious. Prep instilled a deep pride in me from Day 1. We were assigned Big Sisters who would show us the ropes and make sure we transitioned well. There were all sorts of traditions that we'd take part in that only Preppers knew about. One of those traditions was choosing a class song. Our class song became Count on Me. I remember them telling us how important it was for us to learn every word. I didn't really understand why, but it became evident as that first year came to a close.
Count on me through thick and thin
A friendship that will never end
When you are weak I will be strong
Helping you to carry on
Call on me, I will be there
Don't be afraid
Please believe me when I say
Count on me
I can see it's hurting you
I can feel your pain
It's hard to see the sunshine through the rain
I know sometimes it seems as if
It's never gonna end
But you'll get through it
Just don't give in 'cause you can
I know sometimes it seems as if
We're standing all alone
But we'll get through it
Cuz love won't let us fall
There's a place inside all of us
Where our faith in love begins
You should reach to find the truth in love
The answers' there within, oh
I know that life can make you feel
It's much harder than it really is
But we'll get through it
Just don't give in
Count on me through thick and thin
A friendship that will never end
When you are weak I will be strong
Helping you to carry on
Call on me, I will be there
Don't be afraid
Please believe me when I say
Count on me
Each year at Prep we participated in a "Moving Up" Ceremony. To this day, I get goose bumps when I think of how much that ceremony meant to us throughout the years. In our auditorium, each class had a specific place where they sat. Freshman sat on the far left side, facing the stage. Sophomores sat on the far right side. Juniors sat in the center section in the back. And Seniors sat in the center in the front. The first part of moving up ceremony consisted of a symbolic dance. When we chose our class song, we also chose a Moving Up representative. That representative was responsible for doing a special dance that represented our matriculation through high school. They learned a dance to "I Still Believe" from Fame. Each class representative executed their part to show the journey their class had taken through that year. At the end of the dance, they dressed the senior in her cap and gown. She in turn moved up each girl to the next grade level. She then stood in the spot for the incoming freshman class.
If this wasn't moving enough in a room full of girls. Each class then stood to sing their class song. First seniors stood, held hands, swayed back and forth and sang their song at the tops of their lungs through smiles and tears and all the feels. They then dressed in their caps and gowns and moved to the stage as their class song played one last time. Juniors followed suit and then moved into their new place as rising seniors. Sophomores then sang and moved into their new place as rising juniors. Freshman then rounded it out and moved to their place as rising sophomores. The freshman section was left open for the incoming class.
Our class song meant more and more to us each year. We grew more in sync each year. We perfected the high notes and the ad libs. We held each other tighter each year, until it was our final time. I still remember singing Count on Me for the last time at our Moving Up ceremony. We could barely get through it. But we had each other's backs. When one dropped out because she couldn't sing through her tears, her sister picked up to sing a little bit louder. Those words meant so much to me. The classmates that I sat next to everyday had no idea how many times I wanted to give up. But so many of them kept me going, reminding me that we were all going to make it through together. To them, it may have just been a song. But to me, it was a lifeline. Those words lived in my spirit as I fought to stay encouraged and strive for the best. We were the last class of the century. We left a lasting and permanent mark on the school. Our principal who had come when we did even decided that he would leave with us. It'll be 20 years since I've graduated from Xavier University Preparatory School next year. I wouldn't trade the experience for the world.
I Didn't Know My Own Strength (2009)
I went home for a few weeks this summer and found that the time was so necessary. Every time I go home I connect back to everything that has made me who I am. As I mentioned earlier, Hurricane Katrina, took almost every memory of my childhood with it. Pictures, certificates, trophies, yearbooks, Cabbage Patch dolls, Barbie Dolls, Baby Sitters Club books and my poster sized picture of Whitney Houston that was still up in my room, all washed away with the flood. This year I was able to gain some precious memories back. My 5th grade teacher, Mr. Wegener passed away a month or so ago. That was a tough loss for me because Mr. Wegener taught me so many things. He taught me to play chess and to square dance. He taught me all of the Louisiana history that I know. He was the master of nature at outdoor ed. And he taught me how to play the board game, Risk. He was a great teacher. When he passed, his brother was cleaning his home and found that he had bunches and bunches of yearbooks. Might not seem like a big deal, but to those of us who have no memories left, it felt like a lottery win. I was able to get all of my middle school yearbooks (6th-8th grade) from him.
In those pictures, I found so many smiles and laughs of the stories that were captured in still shots. I shared the pictures with everyone I could tag on Facebook. Some of those favorite memories were shared with one of my good friends. I got a chance to see that friend when I was home. We swapped stories, laughing about how we had become and stayed friends. In that time of sharing, I also shared with him some of the things I was going through behind the scenes. He like many others had no idea. "You were always so well put together," he said. I was. Because I had to be. I couldn't let anyone know what my life was really like. As we exchanged a heartfelt hug and parted ways, he turned back and told me to listen to, "I Didn't Know My Own Strength." I knew exactly where he was going with that.
So many times I tell my story to people and I feel very detached. Mind you, I have only scratched the surface of some of my experiences. I have encountered so many people that have been on assignment to literally destroy me. People that were supposed to love me and protect me. I'm just getting to the point of openly sharing it all. But it's almost like I'm telling someone else's story. I'm really good at putting things in boxes. I take the experience and all the feelings and place them all on the bookshelf of my life. When I write about them, I unpack the box, inspect everything as if I'm a reporter and begin telling a story. I'm not crying as I'm typing. I'm just typing, reporting the facts of the story. But in that moment, he reminded me that I was telling MY story. That I had actually lived through those things and had made it through to the other side. I got into my car and put the song on repeat. For the first time in a long time I allowed myself to feel. I allowed the tears to fall and let God speak to me. I've survived abuse on various levels, domestic violence, depression and a desire to no longer live. By now, I should have snapped and broken. But I made it through. I'm standing on the other side of it. And finally I have realized my own strength.
