Y’all are the icing on the cake y’all are the beat to the heart.” The new generation of kiddos take her side and there’s an unspoken communal passing of the torch. I exit stage and high five the fans on my way backstage where we’ll wait to re-enter for Missy’s acceptance speech.Īs only a divine queen can, she thanks everyone who’s supported her rise and then credits the dance community with special value, leaving everyone on stage feeling seen and validated.
#IS IT WORTH IT SONG MISSY ELLIOTT SERIES#
Who cares? I clear room for Bboy DayDay to take flight in a series of gravity-defying flips and power moves. I finish with an old school groove and my shoes catch the floor at the end. Posed right in the center, I take a deep breath and realize the taste on my tongue: it’s perfection. The track begins, and the crowd instantly erupts.
A familiar electrical current zaps my chest, priming for performance. Our entire squad packs into the freight elevator to descend to stage level. I clip off my perfectly manicured nails (good thing they were only $8.99 press-ons from Duane Reade) so they don’t rip off during floorwork. I’m a recording artist now, standing among peers.Īfter dodging every question about whether I’d appear on stage, I run to the dressing room and change out of my shimmering champagne dress into the lemon yellow custom Adidas tracksuit with classic shell toes. I’m strolling the red carpet in promotion of my new YouTube series ALchemy, the upcoming launch of my podcast Simplexity with Alyson Stoner, and my mental health advocacy for touring musicians. Today was destined to be a milestone even before I was dancing. I giggle out loud, because I know it won’t happen. Note to self: Don’t mess up Missy’s Vanguard performance tomorrow. I receive minor notes regarding camera angles and staging, and set up for the third and final run-through. The whole cast runs the seven minute, career-spanning medley twice as I lightly contour my section. We ping pong a bunch of “thank you’s” and “good to see you’s” and “it’s been awhile’s” and then the stage manager urges us to set the piece. Her hugs are the best: warm, genuine, complete, supportive. We join at the stairs in a kismet reunion. Awe and affection overcome me it’s as though I’m meeting a lifelong hero, who just happens to be a relative. Hat low, custom denim jacket, smile illuminating the arena, walking unobtrusively alongside her 30-plus dancers. I‘m instantly smitten by the diamond-shaped stage configuration and dazzling LED panels lit to futuristic perfection. I spot the loading ramp backstage and make a beeline to the front of house. Production trailers and security blockades line the perimeter.
My rideshare pulls up to the Prudential Center, but the frenetic buzz hasn’t eclipsed my sleep-deprived bones. Besides, I’m not even sure it’s happening - even if it doesn’t, I get to see Missy and one of my earliest non-biological families tomorrow. I impulsively type out a message to my friends and family, but can’t tap send. I think of the joy and unifying power that characterize her artistry, and imagine this transcendent moment being shared equally among everybody. It’s with an adult frame and personhood that I will embody and relay the movements I first performed in 2002, and I look no further than Missy for guidance. I leap out of bed toward the narrow full-length mirror and assess my 26-year-old self.