important for me to understand my children as individuals from an early age. I always knew my Dana was
extraordinary, and I wanted to understand exactly what it was that made her tick. I wanted her specialness to come out in
the safe, nurturing environment of a loving home, so that when she left the nest, all too soon, she could be proud of who
she was—proud and unafraid to express it.
At times, I must confess I’ve resented having to share my daughter with the world. She’s wonderful about making time for me
and calling regularly, but her life’s path takes her across the country and around the world.I’m not one of these mothers
who get to have her children and grandchildren with her at the dinner table every Sunday. I always worry about her and hope
that the people who are there to comfort and care for her when she’s far away from me truly have her back. But God made me
Queen Latifah’s mom for a reason. It gives me the opportunity to bring out the potential of thousands more children than I
could ever reach in my classroom—through our scholarship foundation, the Urban League, even forums like this book.
I hope and pray that the moments my daughter shares with you will help you stop, look, and appreciate yourself for all the
unique and wonderful qualities you bring to this world. I hope you will understand that in many ways, Queen Latifah is just
like you. She’s suffered the same losses and made many of the same mistakes. And just like my Dana, you will find success
and happiness on your own terms when you embrace your authentic self and love and believe in who you are. Keep your checklist
by the bathroom mirror. Repeat that list every day until it sinks in and becomes part of your DNA. Even if you don’t think
anyone really sees you… see yourself.
Love,
Mamma O
CHAPTER 5
Fear
Open your eyes ’cause it’s time to get live…
—L ATIFAH , “L ONG A SS M OUNTAIN ”
S tepping onto that board, I had no idea how small it would be. There wasn’t any room for me to take a running leap. The only
thing to do was take a deep breath and jump straight in. But as I stared down the thirty-three-foot drop into the swirling
turquoise water below, I couldn’t breathe. Damn, it was far! My heart flew up into my mouth. The thought flashed through my
mind that it might be best if I just backed out gracefully. Maybe, just maybe, I could slink away, and no one would notice.
I was visiting Jamaica with some friends—Shakim and some of our crew from New Jersey, including my boy Timmy, who practically
lived at Rick’s Café in Negril. Timmy and his sister, a real girl’s girl, were up for any adventure: fishing, scuba diving,
you nameit. So when Timmy and his sister took turns jumping off the cliff like it was nothing, I just had to follow. At first,
Shakim was going to join me, but when he got close to the edge and saw what he was in for, he said, “Oh,
hell
, no!”
He begged me not to do it. A long time ago, Shakim made a promise to my mother that he would never let anything happen to
me, and he was scared. He didn’t want to have to go back home and report to Ms. O that her daughter broke her neck on his
watch. But something about that place, with its magical sunset, green hillsides merging into sapphire blue water, dolphins
jumping out of the surf—not to mention the free-flowing Jamaican rum cocktails—was daring me to try. I wanted to soak up the
full experience, even if that meant getting soaked in the process!
Then the reality of the situation hit me. I tried to gas myself up, but I was terrified. Somebody in the crowd recognized
me and yelled out, “Jump! Jump!” Attempting to talk myself into it, I said, “Okay, f—— it! Let’s do this.” (I try to be a
lady and keep my language clean, but privately sometimes my foul mouth gets the better of me.) Of course, somebody overheard
and started shouting, “F—— it! F—— it!” Meanwhile,
extraordinary, and I wanted to understand exactly what it was that made her tick. I wanted her specialness to come out in
the safe, nurturing environment of a loving home, so that when she left the nest, all too soon, she could be proud of who
she was—proud and unafraid to express it.
At times, I must confess I’ve resented having to share my daughter with the world. She’s wonderful about making time for me
and calling regularly, but her life’s path takes her across the country and around the world.I’m not one of these mothers
who get to have her children and grandchildren with her at the dinner table every Sunday. I always worry about her and hope
that the people who are there to comfort and care for her when she’s far away from me truly have her back. But God made me
Queen Latifah’s mom for a reason. It gives me the opportunity to bring out the potential of thousands more children than I
could ever reach in my classroom—through our scholarship foundation, the Urban League, even forums like this book.
I hope and pray that the moments my daughter shares with you will help you stop, look, and appreciate yourself for all the
unique and wonderful qualities you bring to this world. I hope you will understand that in many ways, Queen Latifah is just
like you. She’s suffered the same losses and made many of the same mistakes. And just like my Dana, you will find success
and happiness on your own terms when you embrace your authentic self and love and believe in who you are. Keep your checklist
by the bathroom mirror. Repeat that list every day until it sinks in and becomes part of your DNA. Even if you don’t think
anyone really sees you… see yourself.
Love,
Mamma O
CHAPTER 5
Fear
Open your eyes ’cause it’s time to get live…
—L ATIFAH , “L ONG A SS M OUNTAIN ”
S tepping onto that board, I had no idea how small it would be. There wasn’t any room for me to take a running leap. The only
thing to do was take a deep breath and jump straight in. But as I stared down the thirty-three-foot drop into the swirling
turquoise water below, I couldn’t breathe. Damn, it was far! My heart flew up into my mouth. The thought flashed through my
mind that it might be best if I just backed out gracefully. Maybe, just maybe, I could slink away, and no one would notice.
I was visiting Jamaica with some friends—Shakim and some of our crew from New Jersey, including my boy Timmy, who practically
lived at Rick’s Café in Negril. Timmy and his sister, a real girl’s girl, were up for any adventure: fishing, scuba diving,
you nameit. So when Timmy and his sister took turns jumping off the cliff like it was nothing, I just had to follow. At first,
Shakim was going to join me, but when he got close to the edge and saw what he was in for, he said, “Oh,
hell
, no!”
He begged me not to do it. A long time ago, Shakim made a promise to my mother that he would never let anything happen to
me, and he was scared. He didn’t want to have to go back home and report to Ms. O that her daughter broke her neck on his
watch. But something about that place, with its magical sunset, green hillsides merging into sapphire blue water, dolphins
jumping out of the surf—not to mention the free-flowing Jamaican rum cocktails—was daring me to try. I wanted to soak up the
full experience, even if that meant getting soaked in the process!
Then the reality of the situation hit me. I tried to gas myself up, but I was terrified. Somebody in the crowd recognized
me and yelled out, “Jump! Jump!” Attempting to talk myself into it, I said, “Okay, f—— it! Let’s do this.” (I try to be a
lady and keep my language clean, but privately sometimes my foul mouth gets the better of me.) Of course, somebody overheard
and started shouting, “F—— it! F—— it!” Meanwhile,
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