Aliya S. King

I sang the damn song before any of you fools!!!

So yesterday, Etta James broke fool on my girl Beyonce. (And on my president. But I’m not touching that).

I listened to the audio on Wendy Williams’ radio show. And after I picked up my jaw off the floor, I could only shake my head.

I must confess, I don’t know much about Etta James.

But of course, I do think of the song At Last when I hear her name.

But let’s get a few things straight here.

It’s not Etta’s song.

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When I see that microphone, I want to grab it, tilt it back, open my mouth and have something wonderful come pouring out.

No. I really wish I could sing.

It’s almost unnatural.

And I don’t mean sing a little bit. Carry a tune just enough to get by. I mean, I wish I could really sing. Like, Jennifer-Hudson-at-the-Superbowl-sing. Yes, she was lip-syncing. But she sang it like that somewhere!

My obsession is mostly my mother’s fault.

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I’m a member of a loosely-organized coalition of like-minded folks. In my mind, I think of us as Superheroes. ‘Cause truth be told, we’re all pretty bad-ass, in our own unique ways.

We communicate solely via a thread of lengthy emails on Gmail. I’ve been a part of the crew for many years. And we talk about everything from the news of the day to our inner-most thoughts and dreams.

Yup. You read right. In my InBox for the SecretSociety account, there are 13,437 emails. All exchanges between a tight-knit group of people over a period of years and years.

We argue. We fight. We curse each other out.

We support. We bond. We network. We cheer.

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