The 9 Whitney Houston Songs That Changed My Life

I love Whitney Houston. I’ve never met her, I've never been within a mile of her, but I feel a deep and really unfathomable love of her, sight unseen. It’s not one of those creepy stalker things, I swear. I just feel a kinship with her. Except for the Bobby Brown thing and the alleged drug-use thing and the reality-TV thing and the four-octave—OK, now a three-octave—vocal-range thing. OK, fine! I don’t have a thing in common with Ms. Houston; I just fell for her mythology hook, line, and sinker. In 1985, when she a fresh-faced crossover in pastels and headbands, I was the gawky black kid dressed inexplicably in green and yellow stripes and struggling to find my place in a predominantly white high school. By the time Whitney sang “I Wanna Dance With Somebody” in 1987, I was desperate to bolt from my suffocatingly small suburban town and cleaved to her music and lyrics like it was prophecy straight from Delphi. Judge me if you want to, but Whitney has been my musical touchstone for as long as I can remember. Don’t believe me? Here's my life in Whitney Houston songs:


My first crush: I listened to Whitney’s “How Will I Know” on my Walkman approximately 124 billion times before my 16th birthday. I was convinced the song held the key to getting my very own boyfriend.

My first heartbreak, to the tune of "All at Once." Remember the line, “I started counting teardrops and at least a million fell”?  I’m telling you, nothing heals the teenage heart faster than blasting corny lyrics in your bedroom.

Whitney released “Love Is a Contact Sport.” Enough said.

I met my first bad boy. He treated me like dirt and I thought I was a feminist. Much to my college roommate’s chagrin, the only cure to our breakup was to listen to “My Name Is Not Susan” over and over again until he left my system. (This was a hard time, and I have to admit that I also needed Madonna’s “Express Yourself” in equal proportions.)

I moved to Manhattan and soundtrack was burning up the charts. To this day, there are at least six people who break out in hives if “I’m Every Woman” comes on the radio.

Felt like a strong, brilliant, supercool grown-up and enrolled in a graduate program that, I thought, would allow me to avoid gainful employment for a dozen years or more, I spent hours developing a dance to “Step by Step”—a dance I still perform sometimes when nobody is home.

Bad breakup—another bad boy. “One of Those Days” and “Whatchulooking At” were my constant companions as were pinot grigio and microwave pizza.

My dry spell is over. Finally, I've figured out what the heck is going on with my life. She may not be the Whitney that lulled me through my teens and early 20s but then again, I’m no longer the wild child in patent-leather miniskirts screaming “I Will Always Love You” out of taxicab windows, either. I’m glad you’re back, WH. I’ve missed you.