Whitney Houston Was Part Of Us

"We've Come to Praise His Name".  That's one of the first songs the choir sang during Whitney's Houston beautiful, comforting and very dignified homegoing service at New Hope Baptist Church in Newark, NJ.  My sister was a member of  New Hope and sang in the choir.  I can still see her standing in the choir loft wearing her choir robe singing her heart out, praising her heavenly father. My sister passed away many years ago and her service was held at New Hope. New Hope means something very special to me.

Growing up in Newark during the aftermath of the 1967 riots I learned how pride, dignity and strength can empower neighborhoods and help families work through hard times and build hope for better days to come. I began to understand how community is as much a process as it is a place. If you came from Newark you were part of that community. And when you had dreams and worked hard for their fulfillment, well, we all succeeded. And we were so grateful! That was another song they sang at Whitney's homegoing service, "Grateful". We are so grateful for Whitney. Her soul. Her spirit. Her music and her life. We all shared in her success and prayed for her during her struggles. She really was a beacon of light for Newark, NJ. She was part of us and we were a part of her. We were community.

I never met Whitney Houston. But in a strange way I've known her all my life. Like family, I know where she came from.  She was a brown girl from the inner city and by virtue of her zip code she was surrounded by all the trappings of  temptation. She was rooted in the Black church. And simply adored by her family.  Those are two important tools that she would rely on to help her move through her life and negotiate struggles. A belief in God and the love of family. Priceless!

The City of Newark really experienced something remarkable this week. Whitney's fans held vigil outside Whigham's funeral home. I watched from  across the street on the steps of a dental office along with other Whitney fans and Newark natives. It was surreal to witness both national media and home grown folk converge on Martin Luther King Jr.  Boulevard, now decorated with balloons, cards and candles, all in the name of Whitney. She was our Whitney.


Unexpectedly, Whitney Houston's death has managed to agitate the still very tender spot of grief I endure since my Mom's  passing. I really missed my Mom this week. She would have been so hurt by Whitney's sudden passing. Mom knew what it was like to loose a daughter. She would feel deeply for the gut wrenching pain and sorrow that now grips Whitney's Mother Cissy Houston, today and to some degree, for the rest of her life.  Mom and I, we loved Whitney. We wanted her to be well. I missed not being able to talk with her about all the media attention occurring in the neighborhood, right down the hill from our home. I would confide in her that I've been crying. Mom would understand my tears. We would share our sadness.  But instead I will listen to Whitney's music and hear her sing the songs that have become part of the soundtrack of my life's journey.  Whitney Houston is resting now. And I am certain that my Mom greeted her with a big smile and said , "Hey Girl how you doing? It's so nice to meet you! My daughter Linda, she just loves you! We all love you Whitney. Welcome Home!"

See Whitney Houston Performing 'I didn't Know My Own Strength' on the Oprah Show in 2009

http://www.oprah.com/oprahshow/Whitney-Houstons-I-Didnt-Know-My-Own-Strength-Video