It was wonderful and fun when “dem babies” were little. Together, Nick and I lavished them with as much joy, attention, and safety as we could. But along with double the joy came double the responsibility. It was a lot of work, and a lot of having to be home and be available. Making the necessary adult adjustments to being working parents in entertainment took its toll on our relationship, and the end of our marriage came fast, as it began. Even though we had prenuptials in place, the divorce took two years to become final and cost hundreds of thousands of dollars in legal fees.
I call your name baby subconsciously
Always somewhere, but you’re not there for me
—“Faded”
Honestly, I think Nick and I could have worked it out between the two of us, but egos and emotions got inflamed (which can translate into many billable lawyer hours, and ultimately it did). It was tough. We both wanted to make sure everything was cool for our family. We will always be family, and we make it work. We still have fun, reminisce, and joke. And we both are certain that Roc and Roe are indeed our light. Every day they give us new life.
I’ve often wondered if there’s ever been a perfect family
—“Petals”
I don’t wonder anymore. Now, I know for certain that there’s never been and probably never will be a “perfect” family. But I have finally found stability in the family I created. There are times I cannot believe I was a little girl who lived in shacks, who always felt unsafe, under–cared for, lonely, and perpetually scared. I have wanted to go back in time to protect and rescue that little girl from the precarious world she was trapped in. And now, I marvel at my own wonderful children, Monroe and Moroccan, and the safe and abundant environment that has been created for them. Rather than being uprooted thirteen times, they live in multiple gorgeous, pristine, and palatial homes. Instead of exposed nails in the stairs and filthy carpeting, they run freely down long, shiny marble hallways, slide in their socks, and squeal with delight. In lieu of a three-legged rocking couch, they watch films on a cinema-style screen from a steady, luxurious custom-made one of goose-down cushions that’s bigger than my first apartment.
My children are surrounded by my uninterrupted love. I have never been away from them for more than twenty-four hours, and when I am working, they are watched over by a loving family of friends and professionals. They have never, ever, ever been left alone. They have never wondered where I am or if their father knows what their lives are really like. They have multitudes of memories and images of being with two loving parents together. Their lives have never been threatened. Cops have never stormed our house. They probably have three hundred shirts to rotate and donate, and their sweet, soft curls are deeply understood. They do not live in fear. They have never needed to escape. They don’t try to destroy each other. My children are happy, and they play with each other, learn with each other, joke, laugh, and live with each other. And no matter what, they will always have each other. They are Roc and Roe for life.
Of all the many gifts God has blessed me with—my songs, my voice, my creativity, my strength—my children are a vision more beautiful than I could have ever conceived. It is by divine design that the children of a wayward child (who as a child professed she would never have children) are so extraordinarily fortunate. And though I’ve worked so hard for so long, it is still miraculous to me that in one lifetime such a leap has been made for my mixed-up lineage. We have broken a cycle of brokenness.
Guided by grace, I am emancipating myself from the bondage of all the dysfunction of my past—rerouting my legacy and rooting it in pure love. And the blessings keep flowing. Twenty-five years after writing a love song for Christmas that came out of a deep desire for joy and peace in my own family, I have all I ever wanted—topped with big, happy, festive family holiday celebrations.
SNOW GLOBE OF JOY
I was standing decked out in a bedazzling red sequined gown inspired by the dress Marilyn wore in the “Two Little Girls from Little Rock” number in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, on a spectacular, cheerfully decorated stage, at my sold-out 2019 Christmas show in Madison Square Garden. My face was aglow from the joy of the occasion, but mostly as a result of the gifted hands of my gorgeous longtime makeup artist, kiki—confidant and dear friend Kristofer Buckle. Roc and Roe, in their own little merry ensembles (they performed a special rendition of “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” that night!) were on one side, and Tanaka was on the other. Behind me were my “singing siblings”—my brother, Trey, and sisters Tots and Tekka, who have been with me through all my seasons, tumultuous and tranquil. And in front of me, yaaaass, in front of me, were tens of thousands of my amazing, diverse, enormous family of loving fans.
I looked out and saw fabulous flocks of Lambs in sequined onesies and other such glitzy garb (the arena was overflowing with sequins, studs, and crystals!), holding signs and holding hands. There were little girls in crushed-velvet dresses on their fathers’ big shoulders; there were old men with no hair next to young women in head wraps; there were Black people, white, indigenous, Asian, Middle Eastern, and countless mixes and variations; gay, straight, fluid, trans, nonbinary, people who were liberal, conservative, devout, agnostic, abled and disabled; people of every shape,
