We Must Save, The Whitneys Among Us

27 Feb

We Must Save, The Whitneys Among Us

By Dr. Christi M. Griffin, Esquire

Dr. Christi M. Griffin

LL Cool J said it best. “Let’s face it; we’ve had a death in the family”. Of course, LL was addressing the entertainment industry present at the Grammy awards and the family he referred to was more likely than not, those in the business. But in reality, Whitney Houston was a part of a much larger family. Us. And so we all should feel. One family, God’s family.

At times such as this, when a talented, beautiful and gracious person leaves us far too soon, we begin to dissect their lives and speculate the reasons. For several days or even a month, as was the case with Michael Jackson, the airwaves will be filled with images that depict her less than perfect life.

We’ll look at her flaws, discuss her mistakes, criticize her choices and debate her status as the greatest vocalist ever. She’ll lie silently in her resting place as we talk with tear filled eyes and recall the angelic music that once cascaded without effort.

With the toxicology report still two months away, we get to play name that blame. We’ll hate on Bobby Brown as though many didn’t continue to bob their heads to his beats and buy tickets to his concerts. Indeed he was preparing to perform when Whitney breathed her last breath. We’ll despise him for luring America’s angel in to a world of drugs, as if we haven’t neglected thousands of drug addicted teens. For one more moment in time, we get to look at the imperfections of others and forget our utterly imperfect selves.

Despite Whitney’s beauty, her reported kindness and grace, despite her enormous talent that ranged from music to acting; despite her every effort to be a loving mother, we’ll recall those stumbles along the way as though our own lives where graceful steps of perfection. We’ll shake our heads and ask why somebody didn’t do more. It’s always somebody – somebody else.

Whitney’s extraordinary talent catapulted her to unparalleled success; it elevated her into a stratosphere that none of us could ever understand. Yet, as we celebrate her life and simultaneously judge her failures, we’ll fail to see the Whitneys that surround us every day.

We’ll see teen mothers and sneer at their promiscuity. We’ll walk past young boys and look at their butts before we see their eyes, we’ll see drug deals go down and car loads of young men who should be in school. And we’ll go along our way –feeling that much more important that someone else is worse than us. We’ll judge and we’ll talk, but seldom will we share our stories of premarital sex, admit to having inhaled or ever see the pain in those young men’s eyes.

Whitney’s long and painful struggle with drugs and inner demons is still being played out today in other people’s lives. And the beat goes on. The village we once knew, the village that once filled those empty spaces left by less than able parents no longer exists. When a hole is left in a child’s heart, it’s no longer filled by caring neighbors or a Sunday school class but by synthetic drugs and 40 ounce cans. Just Say No is easier said than done at a time when overwhelmed teachers are busier counting data than noticing a tear stained face.

Our children are left to fend for themselves in a world filled with lewd music, immoral scripts, parents who share their weed and mother’s who change men as often as they do weave. It’s those children that Whitney left behind that are the charge of us all. We were the village that ignored Whitney’s pleas and the only one that can save those still here.

Whitney’s demons were silenced by her death but unless we step up to the plate, the kind of pain she faced will endure in others just as long as the incredible music she left behind.