The year was 1985.
I was in my grandma’s small kitchen in Alabama participating in a Star Search-type talent show with my aunt and cousins. My aunt gave us each a “microphone”; mine was a wooden broomstick. I begin to sing along with the cassette playing in the background with my family.
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 of pride/to make it easier/let the children’s laughter/remind us how we use to be.
It was then I fell in love with THAT voice. My aunt always had a beautiful voice, but Whitney, her voice was amazing. Could I even spell “amazing” at the age of 6? Probably not, but I knew it.
As the years went by, I continued to be schooled in Whitney Houston 101. Skipping down the long, dirt road with my cousins thinking about whatever boy I liked that week and singing.
There’s a boy, I know, he’s the boy I dreamed of/look into my eyes take me to the clouds of above…/How will I know if he really loves me?/I say a prayer with every heartbeat/I fall in love, whenever we meet/I’m asking you, what you know about these things?
Really Shaka? What did I know about love? Absolutely nothing, until a few years later. March 27, 1989, to be exact, when the first of my three younger sisters was born.
After two brothers, I was ecstatic to have a sister! I begged, I mean BEGGED my mom to name her after my favorite singer. My stepfather was sold on the name Monique. So my mom obliged us both — Whitney Monique is her name.
Throughout the years, Whitney Houston’s work remained a soundtrack to my life. I sang along in my car, at my desk, in the shower, in the kitchen. Wherever I heard THAT voice, I was her imaginary background singer.
When she crossed over to movies, that was like the icing on the cake for Whitney fans. The Bodyguard (great movie, even greater soundtrack), Waiting to Exhale (She put a face to Savannah, and did she not sing the hell out of Exhale, Shoop, Shoop?) Because, she was right:
Everyone falls/in love sometimes/sometimes its wrong/sometimes it’s right/for every win/someone must fail/but there comes a point when/when you exhale.
Everyone knows Whitney started singing in church,so it was no surprise that she more than held her own in The Preacher’s Wife. She actually shined alongside Denzel Washington. I mean really, who shines next to Denzel?
Like most fans, I was disappointed when Whitney went through her troubles earlier in the decade. But I also understood she is human and had problems just like the next woman. Unfortunately, hers were played out for the world to see and judge. I pray these “judges” don’t live in glass houses.
On Saturday around 8 p.m., I was preparing to watch The Voice (how ironic, right?) when suddenly I saw a look of shock on my husband’s face. He had his phone in his hand. I inquired about his worried look, and he told me that somebody said Whitney Houston died.
Immediately I thought of a “viral death”, but I grabbed my phone to check. He said the Associated Press was reporting it. I still didn’t believe him; yes I have great respect for the AP, but at that moment, they were just wrong. They had to be.
So I logged onto Facebook; surely one of my journalist friends will shoot down this rumor like they did others. But sadly, I saw confirmation from two journalists’ timelines, one of whom is an AP reporter. Honestly, I still didn’t want to believe it, but I did and immediately broke into tears.
I remember crying in my husband’s arms as he quietly held me. Our 12-year-old niece was startled by my weeping. I heard him tell her, “Her favorite singer died.”
Suddenly I felt five small fingers rubbing my back as I sobbed uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop crying and my legs wouldn’t stop shaking. I was devastated.
I thought of Whitney’s daughter Bobbi Kristina, who has to bury her mom. Speaking from experience, burying a parent is hard. I also thought of Whitney’s mother Cissy Houston, who has to bury her child, which no parent wants to do. Between my tears and own grief, I said a prayer for them.
I also thought of all the artists who Whitney paved the way for: Jennifer Hudson, Mariah Carey, Beyonce, Brandy, Alicia Keys — the list goes on. If there was no Whitney, I doubt if we would have known these stars.
And I thought of all the women who stood in front of mirrors with hairbrushes, ink pens, broomsticks and other objects they used as mics singing their favorite Whitney tune, on and off key.
I sit here writing, with the I’m Your Baby Tonight cassette next to me, listening to my favorite songs by her on YouTube. I write and I remember.
I remember the greatest of all, Ms. Whitney Elizabeth Houston.

This piece is dedicated to my aunt Ethel Battle, who many years ago introduced me to a great woman and even greater music.