Respect My Bridge Over Troubled Water
An installment in the "I Remember When" series
The memories, moments, and icons I'll never forget...
For two weeks, the "Queen of Soul" was remembered and celebrated around the world! Rightfully so, as she should! Her hometown of Detroit honored her in only a way that folks from "the D" could with week-long festivities complete with numerous viewings, four wardrobe changes, a free-concert, and a homegoing celebration that completely captured who Ms. Franklin was. It was the most unapologetically black, church funeral experience I've ever seen. And I was here for it; present for it all like it was an 8-hour work day.
When she transitioned, like most, I listened to her music having my own Ree Ree music revival. I even read some great tribute articles, but my own words escaped me. My mind was churning but the words would only come out in fragments not sufficient enough for a written, cohesive thought. Even my acupuncturist, who has an appreciation for my musical perspective and is kind enough to read my work, said to me, "When I heard that she passed the first person I thought of was you and what you were going to have to say."
Well, I'm not going to front that felt a little bit like pressure but watching her funeral gave me the Sunday service I needed, it stirred my spirit-- it helped me to finally find my words.
Since childhood, Aretha Franklin has always been reminiscent of a coin to me and she sang both sides of it. One side gospel and the other side blues. I know some of you are wondering why I said blues without rhythm. If somebody musically raised you right ('cause yes there is such thing), you know the blues already has the rhythm. The gospel side was the praise and worship while the blues side was the confessional of your livin’ Monday thru Saturday until you got to Sunday.
I was introduced to Aretha's music two different ways by two different people, my mother, and my father. My father baptized me in all things gospel at an early age. Raised in the church, Dad was staunch in his belief of 'fire and brimstone' Baptist preachin'. He was a fan of Ree Ree's father, Rev. C.L. Franklin, and was the type that mainly listened to sermons, gospel music, and watched TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network on Channel 40 faithfully. I knew Paul & Jan's "Praise The Lord" as well as I knew "Diff'rent Strokes." Dad was committed to being fed the Word and Aretha’s gospel selections were often sprinkled in. He was a man of routine and even though Sundays were the Lord’s day, it was his as well. The day consisted of all his favorite things: Sunday service whether in person or via radio telecast, a homemade family breakfast, and the customary Sunday dinner. And those meals were cooked by him. Before my parents divorced, I only knew a household where both parents shared in domestic duties- my father did most of the cooking while Moms owned Saturday morning breakfast and the homemade baked goods.
My mother, on the other hand, who was also raised in church, was a music connoisseur. She listened to a little bit of everything...classical, jazz, R&B, the blues. Her vinyl collection was a smorgasbord that I often explored. I could find anything and everything from Tchaikovsky to Charles Brown. When Moms listened to Aretha she wasn't looking for the presence of the Lord, she was connecting with the voice and the spirit of a woman that had been through some things. A black woman whose experiences she could relate to and whose relatability was evident in the songs she sung and how sung them. I can't recall the first time I heard songs such as "Respect," "Think," "Ain't No Way," "You Send Me," "Rock Steady," and the numerous others, but even as a child her music resonated with me.
I had yet to develop an understanding of the adult subject matter about which she sang but I always felt the emotions behind it. It would take my own experiences navigating this world as a woman, a black woman, and the nuisances that come with that personally, professionally, and romantically to understand why my mother listened to Aretha in a way that my father never would. She provided the theme music every black woman needed; she was the original poster child of Black Girl Magic. Whether it was to muster strength, to celebrate your joys, express your heartache, or give you that ‘you can do it, girl’ push, The Queen of Soul provided the theme music you used to get you through whatever the unplanned, uncontrollable circumstances of life often tolled.
Because of that intersection my parents provided, I flow and merge from secular to gospel and vice versa with ease. I will to talk Jesus and then go 'traphouse' and ratchet up my ears. To some it might seem sacrilegious, but for me each genre serves its purpose and provides what I need. Aretha Franklin is an example of that platform within black culture. Her music stretched and connected to every region in the world. Meaningful, moved, touched, and inspired were all things that were displayed in every format of her music-- those same things she shared with us to impact our lives for the better!
(Photo by AP Photos)
