let's recap for a minute on my past obsession with african american history.

for my poor parents, i was the child who misplaced her inherent gift of advocacy on the topic of the oppression of black people in america during the time of slavery. yes. i, for some reason, thought it necessary to remind my family of what wretched people we were for having put these individuals through such unimaginable circumstances (as if my parents actually did the oppressing).

i was also the kid who cried after school when i got home because all the girls in my classes had beautiful braids. and why couldn't i have them? (by the way, this got worse when the braids came in gorgeous styles like the curly thin ones in the early to mid 90s).

i'm sure my family thought there was something drastically wrong with me or that and probably prayed that i would eventually grow out of it. i was seemingly unaware of my not-so-black heritage and had adopted the black race as "my people" (i'm getting a really good laugh at this as i'm writing. seriously ... get a picture of little, skinny, fro-haired krysta with just as much passion and aggravation for social injustice as i have now ... running around the house in an uproar over things that hadn't even occurred in my parent's lifetime. oh my ... that's a whole 'nother oprah!)

anyway, just as i was losing my fiery attitude, mariah carey came on the scene (oh and i was sooo close!). the moment my parent's thought they had won the battle for my strange need for rythm and soul ... she appeared in concert for the first time in her black dress and curly hair on my television screen.

i was hooked. i LOVED her. i wanted to be her. then there was whitney houston. body guard say what? seriously folks, it was an endless cycle. i was keenly aware, as a teenager at this point, that i was lacking a genetic element that these women had. but then kirk franklin gave me hope ... remember God's property? uh. yes. i owned every album. if you don't remember "stomp" you should be smacked (or maybe i should be for having transferred it repeatedly to my various MP3 devices).

after years of touring ... he added a few white people to his choir. what? i know that talent isn't reserved for specific races, but let's be honest. there are very few white girls that can hang with the diva greats like aretha, whitney, mariah, etta james, etc etc. back to kirk ... i was instantly motivated to listen to as much gospel music as possible so that i could emulate the vocal runs of these natural talents. ha. just imagine ... me, the preacher's wife soundtrack and a fake mic in my basement, performing in front of a mirror. wow. i honestly thought that my insanely large hair and large butt (for a white girl) would get me a little closer to a chance at auditioning.

ten years later ... i'm still there. wishing, not-so-openly that i were an R&B artist or a gospel singer that could hang with the best of them.

and last night i got my chance.

i am the proud member of one of the most brilliant bands in l.a. (maybe a little biased ... but seriously ... we're really good). and last night ... i got to lead. and something was awaken in me ... someone with ... dare i say it ... soul ... emerged.

we.tore.it.up. and i can officially die a happy woman. thanks to all of my band mates for humoring my long-awaited chance to hang with the big guns :) i love you guys!