I’ve been an Aaliyah fan for years—before she died. Let’s be honest, she is more popular in her death than when she was alive. I remember the jokes about how she couldn’t sing or dance, her lazy eye and how “this singer and that singer” were sooo much better than her.

I looked up to Aaliyah, because she was “street, but sweet.” I wore the swoop bang for God knows how long. She was my Selena.

Anyway, I was listening to Spotify recently when “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number” came on. While I’ve heard it countless times over the years, for whatever reason, this was the first time that her diary entry really hit me.

”May 5, 1993, Aaliyah’s diary...”

I stopped brushing my teeth.

“She was 14. FOUR TEEN.” I said aloud. And to no one in particular.

“That sick fuck..” I said, referring to Robert Kelly.

I quickly changed the song.

Aaliyah was born on January 16, 1979, meaning she had only been 14 for a few months when recording this song. Any other girl that age is finishing 8th grade and preparing for high school*. I saw myself at 14: bespectacled with smaller frames than my first pair (which are actually back in style now), sad to be leaving my friends whom I’d known for most of my life, but excited about a new journey at a school I wanted to go to since 6th grade. I tweezed my eyebrows for the first time that spring (what a disaster that was), and began experimenting with eyeshadow. I was worried about whether or not I’d find a high school sweetheart, if I’d be able to memorize my locker combination (this caused more anxiety than you’d ever know), how I’d be able to keep up with changing class periods, excited about going to my first real school dance that fall—I had plenty of worries. What I wasn’t worried about however, was a man at least 10 years my senior, grooming me and writing lyrics for me to sing about how “throwing down (presumably with him) ain’t nothing but a thang.”*

Aaliyah, did.

As a kid, I remember playing on the blacktop in front of St. Monica’s shortly after Aaliyah came out. One day, she was the topic of discussion. At least one of us overheard on the radio that she and R. Kelly were married. Knowing she was young, we were surprised. I couldn’t have been any older than 7, maybe 8, but even then, we knew that their marriage wasn’t okay.

She was fourteen. A child.

And we shouldn’t have let it happen. It shouldn’t have become Def Jam and ComicView fodder.

Every laugh, every joke, normalized Aaliyah’s abuse and caused us to unwittingly watch child porn (featuring another girl) 10 years later to see “if it was really him.” Our community was, and in some ways still, complicit in their abuse.

I chose to #muterkelly years ago, and will not willingly listen to any of his songs. Depending on who you are, I may even ask you to change the station or song if he comes on, despite how you feel. But last Saturday, I realized that I could no longer even listen to “Age Ain’t Nothing But a Number”, a childhood favorite that I often sang, in good conscience.

I began writing this a month ago. Since then, the screening for tonight’s documentary was threatened, and a witness’ account of Aaliyah’s "alleged” rape has come out. Being fair to the family, Diane Haughton, Aaliyah’s mother, has spoken against the allegations made in the documentary, and while it’s true that we’ll never know for sure what went on between Aaliyah and Robert, what’s undeniable is what’s on wax.

She was fourteen. A child. It shouldn’t have happened. That song shouldn’t have been written, much less performed.

If it were not for her untimely death in 2001, Aaliyah would be getting ready to celebrate her 40th birthday in a couple of weeks. Let’s honor her legacy not just through MAC beauty lines and Halloween costumes, but by protecting Black girls the way she should’ve been.

I don’t know if Dream Hampton and the rest of the production team chose this release date intentionally or if it’s some beautiful coincidence gifted to us by the universe, but remembering Aaliyah’s short life contextualizes the age at which R. Kelly began grooming and “allegedly” raping her. The world hearing from brave women he abused or who witnessed his abuse will hopefully help to mute R. Kelly for good, and also inspire other girls and women to come forward with stories about men in their lives. Because this problem, I’m afraid, is much larger than R. Kelly. I’m hoping that society will begin to believe Black girls when they say they’ve been abused, and protect them the way they should always be.

The way Aaliyah should’ve been.

We cannot continue to look the other way.

Happy Birthday, Aaliyah.

Note: Using quotations around “alleged” is intentional. He did it. He’s a monster.

*I understand that she and I came from different worlds. Both midwesterners, but unlike Aaliyah, I didn’t grow up with Gladys Knight as my aunt and the environment that likely comes with that level of access.

**Having lived in Chicago for several years, I heard stories from other women my age who said that he would often come to local middle schools to bait girls in the schools’ choir. The pied piper led children away with music—-.