Let Bobbi Kristina Be

Let Bobbi Kristina Be


Bobbi Kristina Brown was recently in a car crash. No one was hurt. No drugs or alcohol played a role. She tweeted about it, alluding to her mother, Whitney Houston, being her guardian angel. And it was news.

Society dances dangerously close to exploiting Bobbi Kristina (BK). Sometimes it’s repeated discourse about if Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston could produce a functional human being. Perhaps it’s BK’s birthright to pop culture reverence along with the hate that involves.

If celebrities ranging from A-list box office champs to D-list “what’s-her-face” operate under varying degrees of the same media microscope, then the daughter of two of the world’s biggest pop stars is a power producer, musical mitochondria.

Logically, some attention stems from human curiosity. Then with ambush journalism, social media and bloggers, anyone with Internet access can click and learn too much information about way more than prior generations could envision.

Maybe it is easier to access a 19 year old who’s still developing amidst a grief process many can’t fathom. Her mother died in February. Still curiosity remains. It evolves into voyeurism, and voyeurism into non-news news stories like the aforementioned crash.

All of the focus isn’t misguided. People sincerely pray for, ask about and wish BK well.

But, then the media machine becomes more fixated with anticipatory storylines or picking sides in her parent’s issues to recognize that this young woman, old enough to vote and not legally old enough to drink, is grieving.

She grieves publicly. She lives publicly. Because of this, compassion should upstage curiosity. We don’t know BK well enough as a public commodity to label or love for being who she is. And we don’t have to. It’s more important that she loves herself and grows into a self-actualized woman.

She does not owe us her vices in exchange for her parent’s voices. She shared her hero. Now she deserves something for herself. Peace. Positive energy. Comfort.

BK’s mother belonged not only to her, but also in many ways to a larger world magnetized by Whitney’s power.

Whitney was was infectious, boasted a multi-range voice and was statuesque. Effervescent. And yes, she was troubled.

Few people’s gifts touch millions, thus transcending barriers. So as sad as her fans felt, one can only imagine how family felt to lose her. Because Whitney’s life was so visible people feel entitled to her child’s. And perhaps more sadly, BK is willing to acquiesce.

However everything we can do, we shouldn’t do. Everyone who offers shouldn’t have to make good. BK deserves time, space and privacy to grow and glow. To redefine her normal.

She is entitled to do nondescript things without sensational headlines, lenses, Photoshop and cutlines attaching to her every more. That kind of audience creates pressure, which sometimes causes diamonds—and other times, creates irreversible damage.

We must let Bobbi Kristina live. If not because it is the right thing to do, then we should do it for Whitney.



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