“Any time is the right time to change your mind about any thing.”
-Stephanie D. Pearson-Davis
The production was Charlotte’s Web. My memory fails me when I try to remember the name of the character I portrayed. I do remember the camaraderie of my fellow thespians and that I performed in front of people. Me in front of people was a BIG deal. I’ve always been intimidated by the spotlight. I prefer sunshine. Still, being a part of this musical production surrounded me with people who were more likely to embrace the uncool nature of a girl like me.
Theater folks are among my favorite kind.
There was always a short break between school and rehearsal for the musical. We typically used this break to grab food because… teenage appetites. On this day we went to McDonald’s. I was sitting with friends when out the corner of my eye I saw a Black vehicle pull into the parking space right in front of us… a Range Rover.
The license plates read XII PLAY.
Me, whisper screaming, “Oh my God! Oh my God! Y’all… I think that’s R. Kelly! 12 Play was one of the hottest albums of that year. So the plates made sense. It had to be him. We squealed with excitement and fandom. R. Kelly was on the other side of the glass. “But wait yall. (squinting) Who is the girl in the passenger seat?”
Aaliyah. Aaliyah was in the truck and now I had to stop myself from passing out because R.Kelly and Aaliyah, two of my musical faves were in the truck just a few feet away.
We damn near ran for the door and attempted to casually approach. I know we looked like a gaggle of fools. Hahaha! At this point R.Kelly was outside the truck talking to his boys. I retrieved my Bump N Grind CD from my car for an autograph. He signed it while Aaliyah gave a shy wave from the truck.
Aaliyah waved at me! She was so pretty. R. Kelly went in the McDonald's while my friends and I showed each other our newly autographed prized possessions. I had met my first celebrity. We were giddy. As I was walking to my car… “Hey! Hey! Excuse me?” I turned to find a man who looked like R. Kelly, but who wasn’t R.Kelly. “Let me talk to you for a minute.” I was a little baffled, but I answered. “Yes?” “Rob wanted me to give you his number.” He extended fingers holding a folded piece of paper. “He wants you to call him. He would talk to you himself, but Aaliyah is with him. So… you know.” His voice trailed off.
Say what now?!?!?!! Is this really happening? I was simultaneously mortified and totally excited at the same time. Rob… since we calling him that now… Rob wants to talk to me on the phone? On the inside I went into total teenage girl mode. Conflicted, shocked, elated, scared, annoyed and gassed up all at the same damn time. To him I took the paper and said, “Oh, ok.”
I was shocked because his brother had confirmed what the world wanted confirmed so badly. R. Kelly and Aaliyah were engaged in a kind of relationship that prevented him from approaching me, another girl, directly. I was conflicted because I was a huge fan of Aaliyah. Was I willing to betray her? Also, does he know how old I am? I mean I'm totally mature, but I'm just wondering. I looked down at my plaid uniform skirt from my single-sex high school and resolved that to him age truly ain't nothing but a number.
This story is important. People think there is a type of girl. I’m telling you that ANY girl is a victimizers type. I lived in a two parent home. I was loved in that home. I was highly intelligent. I attended a private catholic all girls school. My tuition was paid and I had my own car. Still, when I got ten minutes alone I mustered the courage to call R. Kelly that night. I disregarded my integrity, my upbringing, expectations, and my intuition.
I dialed that number. I pressed *67 and dialed that number in spite of everything that I knew was “right”. The phone rang for what seemed like an eternity. He answered. I froze. When I heard his voice it was like something clicked. All my safety mechanisms I previously ignored were triggered. I was terrified. Multiple thoughts jockeyed for position in my mind. Each one wanting to be jarring and urgent enough to make me realize that I was foolishly out of my depth. This isn’t right. I'm too young. He's too old. Dad will kill me if he finds out. Dad will kill him. Dad will go to jail… all thoughts that raced to the front. I hung up the phone and destroyed the number.
Over the last several days there's been much chatter about R. Kelly and the ignored victimization of black girls and women. People have exclaimed “why now"?” and that it's all selective outrage. It is truly disheartening… the inability of folks to understand that trauma is never erased. You just learn how to manage it. And what is selective outrage anyway when we are talking about bringing awareness to the egregious trampling of basic human rights for women??? At what time is it not outrageous when ANYONE is groomed, preyed upon, raped, sexually assaulted and/or kidnapped??? —But particularly underage girls… Black girls.
‘Surviving R. Kelly’, the Lifetime docuseries, ripped the scab off an abscessed wound and squeezed the pus out.
Yes. I have known R. Kelly was a child predator since I was 16 years old. When his name comes up I undramatically personally acknowledge that I dodged a bullet. Even with that you could still find me bopping my head to any one of his tunes. Why? Because I didn’t properly know or understand the depth of devastation. I was even a woman who cavalierly opined that if the parents could cash a check and be ok with what happened to their daughters; who was I to judge?
As a woman, the music was more important than my sisters. My self righteous ignorance would not allow me to fully empathize. I hadn’t gotten tangled in his web. This is the ideology that supports victimization. I deeply regret that I didn’t immediately reject R. Kelly and his music the minute I had first hand knowledge of his proclivity for underage girls. I regret casually dismissing or joking about the experience of women who took the number, but didn’t hang up the phone. I am not better than you. I wasn’t then… I’m not now.
Any time is the right time to change your mind about any thing. Any time is the right time to disclose abuse. Do not be shamed to silence by men who would not have supported you even if you had disclosed 30 seconds after it happened.
Men, annoyed and put out that a woman would disclose a rape that happened 20 years ago are the same ones obsessing over who wouldn’t date them in junior high. Don’t even get me started with the self hating, deprecating women who vocally throw their support behind these men. Misogyny is often spewed by people who don’t benefit from it. It’s ridiculous though… sowing seeds; unable to eat the fruit.
I could go on, but I won’t. The issues are layered and complex.
Black women, as strong as we are, for all that we have endured remain largely under-protected, disrespected and unrevered. Women are the givers of life. And yet, when we tell the world that we are being strangled by a rope made with strands of misogony, victim blaming, rape culture and toxic masculinity… this rope that is woven together communally and held tightly by patriarchy— Our counterparts retort is… Why did you wait so long? Because… the rope.
Be brave. Tell your story. Refuse to be silenced. You will feel the rope, but you must continue to use your courage and the rejection of shame and guilt to free yourself. When you do that… You will always have a voice even if the only thing you can do is whisper.
I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences. -Stephanie