back, and the security guard from the night before who mentioned my lip piercing saw me and motioned for me to come to the door. He said, “Did you audition yet?” and I said, “No,” and he said, “I’ve got to get you in there.” He went back in and came back out with one of the producers from American Idol. All those thousands of people had gone home, and I was the last person to get into the building. And I was the one who wasn’t supposed to get in at all.
The judges were exhausted. I had prayed on this and this was my last chance—for everything. I walked onto the football field. There were twelve tables lined up on the field with three judges at each table: a producer and two production assistants. It was at the end of the day, and the Georgia sun was setting slowly. I walked up to the microphone, introduced myself, and sang Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly.” I felt confident and started to feel the emotion of the song and ignored the fact that there were two other contestants singing at the same time in front of the other tables nearby. I could feel my three producers listening to me. I was in my own world. The producer simply said, “Fantasia, you are going on to the next round.” I wanted to shout, but all I said was, “Oh my God, God, I thank you. God, I thank you.”
I ran to Rico. He hugged me and we went back to the car. The pack of cigarettes was sitting on the passenger seat. I looked at them, considered having one in celebration, and then threw the whole pack out of the window. I had made a promise to God and He had kept His promise to me.
Two weeks later, everyone came with me for the next round of auditions. This audition was not in the Dome; it was in a building in downtown Atlanta called Americas Mart. It’s a large warehouse about thirteen stories tall. This is a building that showcases art exhibits and flea markets. This set of auditions was held on two floors of the industrial building. I went to the registration desk and got my number. I was nervous this time. All of the “beautiful girls” were there with their outfits and their long hair and light skin. I was not feeling confident. All those feelings of ugliness that I had when I was in school—I was too dark skinned, big lipped, and skinny—came over me. The beautiful girls were flippin’ their hair and flauntin’ their boobs. I just knew one of them would win. Girls like that are idols. I was just a good singer.
There were two parts of this audition, and it was held over two days. The first day the contestants waited in a room that was on one of the lower floors of the building. That was called the holding room. Two contestants were taken up at a time to perform in front of the executive producer and more production assistants. Five contestants were taken from the holding room to be “on deck.” I didn’t know what a holding room was, but I figured it meant that it was almost my turn. Those five contestants waited on the five folding chairs outside of the audition room door. This audition required that you have a nicer outfit than the last. J.B. bought me an outfit. It was nice, but it was nothing compared to what the other girls had on. Some looked like they had already become the American Idol.
I wasn’t really sure what I was going to sing. I had practiced a couple of different songs. I worked on songs by Mary J. Blige, Aretha Franklin, Natalie Cole, and Tina Turner. Tina jumped into my spirit, and because I was needing confidence that day, I sang her classic, “Proud Mary.” Once I started singin’, I felt strong and energetic. I was “rollin’,” just like the song says. After I sang, the producer said, “Fantasia, you are beautiful. I love your name. You are the one.” The judge pointed his finger at me and repeated, “Fantasia, you are the one.”
The next day was the big one. I was going to sing for the folks you see on TV—record producer Randy Jackson; recording artist Paula Abdul; and record
The judges were exhausted. I had prayed on this and this was my last chance—for everything. I walked onto the football field. There were twelve tables lined up on the field with three judges at each table: a producer and two production assistants. It was at the end of the day, and the Georgia sun was setting slowly. I walked up to the microphone, introduced myself, and sang Roberta Flack’s “Killing Me Softly.” I felt confident and started to feel the emotion of the song and ignored the fact that there were two other contestants singing at the same time in front of the other tables nearby. I could feel my three producers listening to me. I was in my own world. The producer simply said, “Fantasia, you are going on to the next round.” I wanted to shout, but all I said was, “Oh my God, God, I thank you. God, I thank you.”
I ran to Rico. He hugged me and we went back to the car. The pack of cigarettes was sitting on the passenger seat. I looked at them, considered having one in celebration, and then threw the whole pack out of the window. I had made a promise to God and He had kept His promise to me.
Two weeks later, everyone came with me for the next round of auditions. This audition was not in the Dome; it was in a building in downtown Atlanta called Americas Mart. It’s a large warehouse about thirteen stories tall. This is a building that showcases art exhibits and flea markets. This set of auditions was held on two floors of the industrial building. I went to the registration desk and got my number. I was nervous this time. All of the “beautiful girls” were there with their outfits and their long hair and light skin. I was not feeling confident. All those feelings of ugliness that I had when I was in school—I was too dark skinned, big lipped, and skinny—came over me. The beautiful girls were flippin’ their hair and flauntin’ their boobs. I just knew one of them would win. Girls like that are idols. I was just a good singer.
There were two parts of this audition, and it was held over two days. The first day the contestants waited in a room that was on one of the lower floors of the building. That was called the holding room. Two contestants were taken up at a time to perform in front of the executive producer and more production assistants. Five contestants were taken from the holding room to be “on deck.” I didn’t know what a holding room was, but I figured it meant that it was almost my turn. Those five contestants waited on the five folding chairs outside of the audition room door. This audition required that you have a nicer outfit than the last. J.B. bought me an outfit. It was nice, but it was nothing compared to what the other girls had on. Some looked like they had already become the American Idol.
I wasn’t really sure what I was going to sing. I had practiced a couple of different songs. I worked on songs by Mary J. Blige, Aretha Franklin, Natalie Cole, and Tina Turner. Tina jumped into my spirit, and because I was needing confidence that day, I sang her classic, “Proud Mary.” Once I started singin’, I felt strong and energetic. I was “rollin’,” just like the song says. After I sang, the producer said, “Fantasia, you are beautiful. I love your name. You are the one.” The judge pointed his finger at me and repeated, “Fantasia, you are the one.”
The next day was the big one. I was going to sing for the folks you see on TV—record producer Randy Jackson; recording artist Paula Abdul; and record
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