There’s a fire starting in my heart
Reaching a fever pitch, it’s bringing me out the dark
Finally I can see you crystal clear
Go ‘head and sell me out and I’ll lay your shit bare
See how I leave with every piece of you
Don’t underestimate the things that I will doâ€¦
Thus starts the opening lyrics of Adeleâ€™s addictive and â€œcanâ€™t get it out of my headâ€ song Rolling in the Deep. As far as Iâ€™m concerned nobody, no how, nowhere sings it better or with more passion. Her growls of pain echo through me as I tap along, bobbing my head in union to the tempo and female knowing of betrayal.
This morning on The Today show Aretha Franklin sang a cover of Rolling In The Deep, (http://www.today.com/video/today/56169922#56169922), and it stopped me in my tracks. Her growl was different than Adeleâ€™s, but no less powerful, and it got me to thinking about our voices. Not in the sound of them, per se, but in the use of them.
Aretha isnâ€™t trying to be anybody but Aretha as she sings. She brings her own style, cadence, and sass to the music chosenâ€¦even if that music is somebody elseâ€™s trademark. Considered a diva, Aretha doesnâ€™t apologize for wanting things the way she wants them. The Today Show hosts, Natalie and Tamron, were happy because when Aretha is in the house the studio is going to be warm. Too often they acquiesce to co-hosts Al and Willieâ€™s suited male heat, and freeze as the air conditioners blast overhead. But not today. Aretha hates cold air. Aretha wanted it warm. It was nearly tropical because Aretha said so. Too bad for Willie. Period.
Then I wondered if there is a similar word for diva in male terms. Why not? Why do women get so many of the negative descriptors? When weâ€™re viewed as powerful weâ€™re divas, drama queens, bitches, cunts, and so on. When men are viewed as powerful they are studs, muscular, rugged, successful, and competent.
The other day my husband was staring at me, but in a good way. Love glittered in his eyes. â€œDo you have any clue how much power you possess?â€ he said.
I arched an eyebrow. â€œMe? Power? Nah.â€ I meant it. Other people have power. I have …hope.
But now Iâ€™m wondering why I feel as I do. My husband sees power in me when I donâ€™t. Why do I ignore it, downplay it, and give it away? Why do women like Aretha fearlessly meet life on their terms and expect to get what they want? What soundtrack do they play in their heads that says, â€œScrew permission!â€ How about you? When do you feel most powerful, and what voices play in your mind that encourages you to be authentic?
But you played it
You played it
You played it
You played it to the beat.