Being A Badass Is Sometimes A Good Thing

Last week we lost a great one. Aretha Franklin and I were best buddies in the late 70’s and 80’s, although she didn’t know it. Death is hard for me to handle most of the time, but these past months it has really hit home. When someone you love passes, you tend to reflect to your past as it is the only place you can be with them. Sadly, they can no longer be part of your future.

So, I am going to spend a few moments looking back. I am blessed to be part of a huge family. Although its origins stem from many countries, there is no doubt that I was raised as an Italian-American in Amagansett. My parents were hard working, kind hearted people. My extended family enormous. Although my siblings are a bit older than me, when we weren’t fighting or ignoring each other, we got along just fine. I knew that we loved each other and when push came to shove, they totally had my back. My 8th grade graduating class from Amagansett Grade School had 18 students. Things were good much of the time.

When things were not, it was when I was being bullied at school, which occurred on a fairly regular basis until I reached the 8th grade. Thankfully, I had the best friend in the world who stood by me through it all, even when it meant that she would be the next target. I’m ashamed to say I was not always as courageous as she. Why did it stop once I hit 8th grade? Well, there are a number of reasons but one big one was Aretha Franklin.

Aretha has been crowned the Queen of Soul, inspirational, superbly gifted, an icon for Civil Rights, a humanitarian and more. I agree with all of the above. But in the 1970’s, to me Aretha Franklin was a total badass – and I mean that in the most complimentary way. Her songs, or at least the ones that most spoke to the 13 year-old me, were totally empowering and made me feel like I could face down anyone and do anything. Honestly, I can’t exactly tell you why. The words to many of her songs don’t necessary lend themselves to being a badass – again meant in the most flattering use of that word. But there was something about her delivery, her presence, her command that resonated with me. Listening to Aretha’s music played a role in propelling me to take charge of my life; to not let anyone push me around. I would listen to her sing and feel energized and emboldened, even if she was singing a ballad. She made me feel good about myself. Somehow, she helped give the chubby 13-year-old girl that I was the courage to stand up to the bullies who, of course once they were stood up to, stood down. That’s what bullies do. And even as an adult, when I need a boost, I often turn to Aretha. She taught me, especially as a woman, that being a badass is sometimes a good thing.

So, my tribute to Aretha is a big thank you – you were a part of making me who I am today. Thank you for helping that little girl stand up to the fray and demand some R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Even though I was only 13, it changed my life.