I Got This (2 page)

“Mama, it’s only fifty cents!” I’d plead.

“Jenny, money doesn’t grow on trees!” And then she’d send me off to ask my granddaddy for the money.

Now,
he’d
give us three dollars—each! It felt like I could buy up the whole store with that money. I have always had more of a taste for salty treats than sugary ones, so as a kid I preferred eating pickles and potato chips over candy and cakes. The saltier the better for me.

As I got older, all of those big meals and all that junk food began to catch up with me. I went from being a skinny chicken to a round and robust young woman. I wasn’t fat, but people were no longer seeing my ribs. I was starting to look like the rest of my family.

As I gradually gained weight, I started to develop my own way of dressing. I liked to call it “free style.” I chose clothes I liked, not things that were trendy or name brands, which is what my brother and sister always went for. I chose to accentuate my curves, or to just show my personal flair. Some might have thought my outfits were a little weird—but I liked to think of them as unique. I didn’t
care what size I wore, I just wore what I liked. One of my favorite outfits included a pair of overalls, which I wore to high school at least once a week. I was establishing a personal style…and flair, in lots of different ways, something my mama started to notice.

For example, I have always signed my name with great flourish. Even as a child, I made big swoops and grand letters.

“Jenny, you have an artistic signature. I think you can draw!” my mother said with great enthusiasm.

“Whatever,” I said.

At the time, I had no interest in drawing. But then, one day, I gave it a try and I’ve not put my pencil down since. My whole bedroom was covered in my sketches. I have an uncanny ability to draw whatever I see. I always tell people that I got my grandma’s voice and my mother’s artistic talent.

Then my mother came to me and said, “Jenny, you’re such a prankster, I think you might be able to act. I really believe you will be an actress someday.”

It’s true that as a kid, I was a real practical joker. I loved (and still love) to play tricks on my family and did so whenever I had the chance.

“Whatever,” I said.

Do you see a pattern? My usual response of “whatever” turned out to be quite appropriate because
whatever
my mama spoke of
inevitably
came true.

My family always says my voice is a gift—a precious jewel I
inherited from my maternal grandmother. My grandma’s name was Julia Kate Hudson. My sister and I used to joke that the Kates in our family got all the talent. (My middle name is Kate, and one of my names in my family is Jenny Kate—which I call myself when I’m just being me, hanging out and doing ordinary things.)

People often spoke about how beautifully my grandmother could sing. She was also the sweetest, kindest, most loving, and giving woman. I absolutely loved spending time with her, and especially listening to her sing. She loved to sing hymns and praise God with her voice.

Grandma’s house had high ceilings and hardwood floors, which resulted in amazing acoustics. The openness created a sound as if I was singing into a microphone. I would sit on her stairs and just sing my heart out. We have a lot of great singers in our family, so my voice wasn’t all that unusual, but some of my older family members told me I had “the gift.” They also often said I reminded them of my grandma. I loved to sing and perform. People responded to my voice when I started singing in church or at local talent shows. People would come from all over Chicago just to hear me sing. I became aware that I could move them with my music and I liked the way that felt. There was a certain sense of power that came with capturing my audience that left me wanting more. They say that most performers live for the applause. Even as a little girl I understood what that meant, and the more I got, the more I wanted.

Even though Grandma had a beautiful voice, she used to tell me that she never wanted to become famous because she’d have to move and perform on demand even if she didn’t feel like it—what we would call being “on” today. There are plenty of days performers need to be lifted up and are expected to have the energy to do the lifting. Grandma was perfectly content singing for the Lord. As long as she was reading her Bible or singing in church, she was happy. I remember being mesmerized watching her sing in our church choir. She did more than one hundred solos in that church. Grandma taught me her favorite gospel songs, which I loved to sing. They were powerful and emotional, and everything I thought a song should be to evoke those same reactions from the audience. Grandma’s love for gospel is the reason I make sure to have at least one inspirational song on my albums. It is my way of keeping her close, even now.

Around my thirteenth birthday, Grandma had her first stroke and then started having seizures. I never wanted her to be alone so I spent most of my free time keeping her company. I was always quick to volunteer to spend the day at her house so she wouldn’t get lonely. There were some good days when Grandma would be up and well, shuffling her feet, singing her hymns; but then there were days when she couldn’t get out of bed. Those days were my inspiration to write my first song called “To Love Somebody,” so Grandma would know how much she meant to me. I sat on the side of her bed and sang it to her.

“It feels good to love somebody, but it hurts to let them go. And it hurts to love somebody when you know you have to let them go.”

Grandma passed away when I was sixteen years old. Since then, I’ve carried a heart-shaped stone with me wherever I go, as a way to connect to my grandma. I inherited her gift, and I try to keep her memory close.

After Grandma died, instead of wallowing in my sadness, I vowed that I would go on with my life, follow my dream, and make good decisions along the way so I would make her proud. My grandma and mama were the two most important women in my life because they showed me that with the faith of a mustard seed, anything was possible.

I
n high school, I wasn’t what you’d call a typical teenager. I didn’t hang out much with girlfriends, other than my friends from choir. I spent most of my free time with my family. I did have a boyfriend, but he went to a different high school and we only saw each other in the neighborhood. My life wasn’t full of the typical teenager things like movies and parties and dances and things like that. I was focused, even then, on my music.

I still love spending time with my family and old friends from home. Being with these familiar touchstones helps me to stay
grounded. I am still the same person I’ve always been, which I think surprises people. I remind them that my career doesn’t define me. Sure, it’s a part of who I am but it doesn’t determine how I act.

I do.

I’ve never forgotten where I came from, so when it comes to family and good friends, bring it on. The more the merrier. That is why my cousin helps me with my son and one of my brothers works security for me. Even my best friend from middle school, Walter Williams III, works for me as my executive assistant. He’s my gatekeeper, and my best friend in the whole world.

Walter and I met in the sixth grade and have been best friends ever since. Even though Walter is slightly older than me, he is still the same height as he was on the day we met—meaning short. I was unusually tall for my age back then. We were quite a pair. We still are.

I will never forget when Walter and I truly connected. There was a new music teacher at our school who wanted to hear each kid sing. I guess she wanted to know what she had to work with. All of the kids in the class pointed toward me, saying, “Jennifer should sing first!” I really had no choice but to do my thing when the teacher asked me to get up to sing.

Up to this point, Walter had never heard my voice. But when I finished, I could tell that he had fallen in love with what he heard. He became my number one fan that day and we’ve been inseparable ever since. He decided that he would make it his business
to make me a star, and I am being honest when I say that I wouldn’t be where I am today without his help and support.

Although I had a desire to perform in those early years, I
was
sometimes shy. It was Walter who eventually helped me to come out of my shell. He encouraged me to sing wherever and as often as I could. When we graduated eighth grade, I was asked to sing a solo during the ceremony. I did my own rendition of “Wind Beneath My Wings,” and cried through the entire song. Walter and my mama were mad at me for blowing that big moment. In fact, Walter got so upset that he decided he was done with trying to promote my career right then and there. This would mark the first of many times to come that Walter would fire himself out of my life.

After that, Walter and I ended up attending different high schools, but we still saw each other almost every day. We’d go shopping after school, work on music, talk about whom we had crushes on, and just hang out like typical kids our age. We even went to my high school prom together. Walter was my date—he had a car and could drive to the dance. My boyfriend at the time didn’t have a car, so he was out and Walter was in. I wore a long cream-colored gown. Every year I have a favorite color, and that year I was in love with anything cream or brown. (This year I’m all about purple, by the way.)

During high school, I took my first job. At the time, my sister was the queen of our local Burger King. Although she wasn’t the
manager, it was as if she worked that whole place by herself. My sister suggested I come to work with her as a way to make some extra money to support my retail habit—it took money to develop my “free style.” I gave it my best shot, but I wasn’t cut out for it. The grill was too hot for me! Plus, the manager was not very nice and talked to everyone with disrespect. She may have intimidated the other employees, but not me (or my sister, for that matter). Shortly after I started, I looked at the manager square in the eyes and said, “Honey, I am only sixteen years old. I don’t need this job! I quit!” My sister gave me a hard time about giving up so quickly, but I knew it was the moment to get serious about what I really wanted to do.

Walter was happy that I quit—and started to work even harder to help me launch my career.

Somewhere around the end of my freshman year of high school, Walter phoned me up and said that he wanted to be my official manager. My first response was a gut-busting laugh, and one of my classic “Whatever”s. But then I said, “All right. You wanna be my manager? Fine!” I figured he would last about a hot minute. Much to my surprise, Walter took his new position very seriously. He started booking shows for me almost right away and escorted me to all of my events. Neither of us could afford to buy the fancy dresses I needed to wear for my gigs. He used his credit card to buy them, and I would wear them once. Walter would then return the outfits for a full refund. Oh, some of those outfits were something
else. Walter did the shopping, and because of my curves we were limited in where we could shop. One outfit that I may never forgive Walter for was an orange suit consisting of a jacket and capri pants. I believe there was some gold trim involved. It was definitely more of something a grandmother would wear. A very stylish grandma, but a grandma nonetheless.

Walter even had business cards printed up that read, “Weddings, funerals, and church functions.” It also listed my rate of $25 per song in the upper-left corner. Walter’s name and number were on the bottom right as my booking contact.

I’d do my events, get paid, and promptly give Walter his 10 percent. Then we’d return whatever dress we had chosen for the event. We were making money! For a couple of kids, we thought we had a pretty good idea of how show business worked. Boy, we had a lot to learn.

Although I did lots of private parties, my real moneymakers were competing in talent competitions. There were many talent shows around Chicago that I could enter. I sometimes wish I could go back and watch myself onstage. I was pretty confident by this point. Both Walter and I knew that if I entered, I’d win them all. We’d look at the prize money and base our decision on which shows to do on how much money we could make.

I will admit, however, that winning wasn’t always easy. You see, talent shows are a lot like beauty pageants. I felt like I was under a microscope sometimes, and the atmosphere could be intense
and really competitive. There was so much backstabbing, politics and dirty tricks going on behind the scenes of those things that I learned to anticipate the
worst
every time we went to a show. I once sang in a competition where another contestant hid my music so I wouldn’t be able to perform. This type of sabotage went on all the time. I learned to brush it off and remembered to carry a spare tape.

When I was seventeen, I entered a gospel singing contest at the mall in Evergreen, Chicago. This was like a local gospel version of
American Idol
. It was one of the biggest competitions in the area. The organizers of the contest had made hair and makeup people available, but Walter had arranged for my own personal glam squad to be with me that day, including a wardrobe stylist, a hairstylist, and a makeup artist. Walter thought it would be better if I showed up with my own team. It wasn’t that we were pulling a diva act. He wanted me to have my own glam squad so I would look the part of a star. My dress that day had been made especially for me by one of Walter’s friends. It was a dramatic, black velvet gown, complete with a train and long-fitted sleeves lined with silver fabric.

In an ironic twist of fate, one of the makeup artists provided by the contest organizers is now one of my personal makeup artists.

“I remember you back when you thought you were too good and had your own stylist and hairdresser.” She still teases me to this day every chance she gets!

Round one was held at the Evergreen Plaza Shopping Center, and I won. I also won the second round. Like I said, I usually won whatever talent show I entered, and this time I was hoping for the same result.

Round three was held at Salem Baptist Church led by the Reverend James T. Meeks, in Chicago. The church was massive and was by far the largest venue I had ever played. In addition to coming down with a terrible cold, for whatever reason, I switched my song for this round. In the end I don’t think I sang the right song to win that contest. I ended up placing third. No matter how big the glam squad, or how dramatic the dress, sometimes things just don’t work out.