Erykah Badu on love
I and I
Erykah Badu on love (with Andre Benjamin), life (creating her son, Seven) and choices (Ghetto Girl Rule No. 40: Ok, it’s not fair. Now what? Keep it moving).
By Erykah Badu as told to Karen R. Good.
HONEY magazine
Me and Andre were originally supposed to do this interview together. He has so much to say when he opens his mouth cause he’s a quiet person, but he don’t want folks in his business. I’m tellin’ him, We ‘bout to be two of the baddest muthafuckas in music. Evah. This is history—for your child and for you. What’s most important right now is that I’m OK. ‘Cause niggas definitely believe in self-preservation.
Our relationship was built “out of order.” That’s why it can’t work. I didn’t wait for a commitment before I decided to have a child—even before we were intimate. We should still be interviewing each other.
I first me Andre in October of 1996 at a show Outkast had in New York. I’d seen him before, in print, and he just looked so thoughtful and beautiful. Wow. I found out later he was somewhere in the world thinking the same thing about me. My single had just come out, and as I walked into the club, they were playin “On & On,” so that was nice. I hustled my way to the VIP section, and after the show was over, I came up to him. He said:
Oh you that girl.
Oh, I wish I was that girl again. Just that girl. Anyway, his conversation was vague. Preoccupied. So I gave him the incense I had in my hand and faded out. I figured this man must have a wife ‘cause he wasn’t tryin’ nothing. A few months later, he came to my first show in New York at Soul Café. I saw him standing in the crowd, nodding his head in agreement with the beat. (I probably started showin’ out then.) After the show, he came over with my publicist. We hugged. He asked me, What you doin’ after the show? But so many people were comin’ at me, by the time I spun around he was gone. I got back to my little place in Brooklyn, happy the show went well and thinking about him. I called someone for his number, and he called me back. We talked on the phone from 11 am. That day till right now.
From wherever we were in the world, we talked before each show so we could say a prayer. And every night. But hey, like Bootsy say: If I can get our love, what’s a telephone bill? I recall four months into it, he asked, What are we? I was in London, he was in whatever city he was in. At first I said, You know, we’re just two individuals growing together. [laughter] Then one day I said, You my nigga.
I was in the middle of my first major tour when I became pregnant. Now I feel that, as an adult, I made a very responsible decision by having my child—not necessarily by getting pregnant, but by having my child Andre and I were both vegan vegetarians, so Seven had a chance to be an organic baby. We knew this day would come because the brother told me that the next woman he laid down with would be the mother of his child, just as clear as Biggie said I’m ready to die. So we spoke Seven into existence and we were very, very much in love. The kind of love that will make you lay down and have a nigga’s baby—that’s a love.
He rubbed my belly every night with shea butter. Rubbed my breasts, my back, my hands and my feet. He sang to the baby. We were out on the same tour, Smokin Grooves, and Andre tried to make sure we were in the same place as much as possible. I lived in New York, he lived in Atlanta. He took care of all of us. He did.
The week of my last show in October, I’d just come from Jamaica and he was packing my things to go home to Dallas and have the baby. Lauren Hill called; she wanted me to do Aretha Franklin’s video, “A Rose Is Still A Rose.” But I was so tired. I said, Sis, I can’t. My back is hurtin my legs are hurtin. I’m ready to go home.
Three nights later when I was back in Dallas, I laid down in my mother’s bed and was havin that baby. It was 4 a.m. Dre was in Atlanta; my midwife, Dr. Jewell, was in Detroit. I wasn’t due for two weeks. So I’m hunting through my purse looking for my phone book, trying to talk to the midwife without my mother hearing me…. My mother woke up and said, “Do you mean to tell me you ‘bout to have this baby and you don’t have shit t’gether? I’m callin 911.”
Finally, I called Dre. I said, “Baby, it’s time.
He said, “Time? Time for what?”
[Smile in her voice] The baby is comin now
“Now? Youbout tahavethebaby?”
I’m bout to have the baby.
He gets off the phone and he—shit, I don’t know what the hell he was doin. I’m over here havin’ pains six minutes apart. I got this egg shaker that I take on stage. It calms me. So I’m shaking this thing every six minutes, and breathing (whooo—chkchkchk—whooo—chkchkchk). Baby, I threw that gotdamn egg upside that wall so haard. Everybody was like, Oh shit. Cause that ain’t my style.
My mother and I are alike, but the candles and incense and shit—that ain’t her. But she had candles everywhere, she had the incense, she had my live album on, in rotation with Andre’s album and Marvin Gaye’s Here My Dear. Between each six minutes, I would sleep—I’m talkin ‘bout dream sleep, cause I was tired. At about 8:15 a.m., I woke up and Andre was comin’ in. No bag—just there. Smilin so big. He said [soft] Haay. And I was very very… not giving a damn about that at all. He’s here? Good. Sit down somewhere. I’m doin this.
He kneels beside me and the room clears.
[On November 18, 1997, Erykah Badu Live was released and Seven Sirrus Benjamin was born.]
Andre and my mother, who are the best of friends, found this house. I needed a place for us to be a family. He moved here a week and a half later. I didn’t have to do anything but breastfeed and bathe Seven, carefully, cause I was really afraid of him. He was new and I didn’t want to do anything wrong. Seven is definitely a love child, and I believe he masterminded the whole relationship.
I don’t really recall a point in the relationship where a change came for Andre, but I remember I was tired of being the only one giving. I also remember tolerating. I knew who I was loving. I knew I was loving someone younger than me; someone who would probably change his mind about several things. But I thought he had sense enough to know that he didn’t wanna do none of that shit without me. Now, we had a love—I saw it in his heart and his eyes. But it was not the kind of love that should have determined family. And we’re both to blame.
I’m sure this was very scary for him. This is a major responsibility. Shit, I’m major. But don’t ever make yourself responsible for what other people do. This is a pattern. I grew up without a father. My mother grew up without a father. Many of my friends grew up without fathers. The men tend to leave at the same point—when the baby is still a baby, before the first birthday. Anything that’s “for the rest of your life” is a threat.
We broke up last October. Andre told me I ain’t ready for you Bay-bay—he’s never called me Erykah—I tried. I don’t want to. Wait for me if you can, but if you can not, you just can’t. Then he said I can see this getting bad. Maybe if we hadn’t had a child together it would’ve been less traumatic, but I never wanted to be nobody’s baby’s mama.
I decided to write a book about this. It’s called The Ghetto Girl Handbook because that’s where I’m from. The purpose of this book is to maintain ascension, control, balance and sanity. A lot of this book is things we already know, but don’t practice. The Ghetto Girl is just a little reminder. I’m 28 years old; I don’t wanna be 38 repeating the same shit:
Rule 12: Never reward inappropriate behavior
Rule 56: True healing takes a long time. Don’t give up.
Rule 31: Let him call.
Rule 32: Please let him call.
But, for Seven, I wouldn’t change a thing. I can’t even call him a baby…. This person. He’s going to know truth and he’s terribly creative. I’m gone make sure his daddy stay on point, too. Cause I got his motherfuckin back. I’ll shoot a muthafucka in the face for Andre Benjamin. And he know that.
After we broke up, I asked Andre What did I bring to your life? He thought for a minute and said, “Well, you gave me an artistic push.” I thought That’s some ol’ bullshit. But I know what I gave him. His freedom. It takes a strong woman to hang on to an indecisive man. It takes an even stronger one to let him go. Patience, time—does a lot of things. So, in the meantime, I’m gone put on a pretty dress, sit out on this porch and cross my legs—faithful that my man will come walking up the road.
