It’s Been 7 Hours and 15 Days……

The world is a tough place at the moment. Look at the news, and just read the headlines. Thousands of people killed or displaced because of war. Refugee children refused entry to the UK. MSF hospitals [hospitals in general] are being bombed in Syria. Islamphobia is rife. Anti Semitism is rife. At least 80% of humanity lives on less than $10 a day. Poverty is real is the 21st Century.

To top it off Donald Trump might end up to be President of the USA. If we are not living in a parallel universe, I feel like I am living in a bad dream that feels far too real.

There have also been an incredible amount of celebrity deaths so far in 2016. Why? The BBC reported it was a mixture of things. The people who were famous in the sixties are now in their seventies, and are beginning to pass away. We also have more famous people now than ever before, and many of those people belonged to the baby boom generation. There have been some people on the internet who don’t understand the outpouring of grief towards a famous person when looking at the immense suffering in the rest of the world. I do understand that to a point, but on the 21st April 2016, I found out the musician Prince had died, and I cried on the bus home, in public, for the first time in years.

If I’m honest, I’ve cried every day since, at least once. I cried like a 15 year old who has lost her first love. Great heavy heaving sobs, that slowly developed into dry, quiet breathless cries. I didn’t recognise myself. I actually felt 15 again. An emotional roller coaster, dancing around a room to his music, tears dripping down my face. This death feels very wrong. It seems far too soon, like he was ripped away from the cosmic order of things. Everything has felt out of kilter since, like there has been a split in time. The outpouring of grief from his fans has been palpable. He is everywhere. Prince fans are really like no other. That fact was bought home to me two years ago during his Hit and Run Tour. Although I have spent most of my life listening to his music, I have found myself rediscovering him all over again, like a teenager, and as a result, rediscovered parts of myself anew, the emotions at times overwhelming. For the last 15 days I have felt cracked open, raw. Like a shell that has wrapped itself around me was gone. Out of all the music and musicians I have ever loved, why Prince? An old family friend [who is a very sensible chap, also a huge Prince fan] said ‘Other musicians I love have died, and it’s very sad but it’s strange with Prince, I actually feel like I have lost someone I know’

There it was. Prince had been in my life every day since my teens, and since the invention of the iPod, I had listened to at least one Prince song, every day since. Even through my more dubious teen musical tastes, Prince was always there in the background, just waiting for me to return to him. I cried the day David Bowie died too, but I think I was crying for my mother too, who was a big Bowie fan, and I have listened to him, through her. She is no longer with us either, so I was crying tears for two. David was hers, but Prince was mine. I talked to my father 6 days after Prince’s death. He is in his 70’s now. He has seen many of his heroes die, he is practical about these things. I underplayed my emotions. ‘I’m very very sad about Prince’ I wanted to use the word devastated, but devastation was a word saved for events that included people you actually knew and loved. Not for the echelons of music stardom. ‘Yes, he was very talented’ I was slightly taken aback, I didn’t realise Prince had even been on my father’s radar. We talked about how my father had felt the day John Lennon and Elvis had died. Every generation has their own. That he understood.

We all know where we were when we heard Prince for the first time. I was at school, and a friend who was far cooler than me, was playing Around The World In A Day. Raspberry Beret came on, I was intrigued. She told me to listen to Purple Rain, and I did. So began a 30 year plus love affair that will never end. Prince was one of the biggest emotional and sexual awakenings I have ever experienced. A man small of stature who wore heels, was unbelievably pretty, played all the instruments, [27 to be exact] produced all his own music, sang like a bird, and wrote some of the filthiest [and profound] lyrics ever recorded. I could not quite understand why I found him so attractive, so sexy, why he made bits of me pulse. Listening to Darling Nikki for the first time, I had to rewind the cassette tape over and over. I could not believe that he was singing about unashamed, pleasurable female sexuality in that way. Women were in charge, they were not being objectified and it was on their terms. My mind and innocence were blown away in glorious technicolour. Then in later years to hear the extended version of Rock Hard In A Funky Place from the Camille album, or Anastasia . Or to revisit The Ballad of Dorothy Parker, Lady Cab Driver, Little Red Corvette, Head, Computer Blue. The list is endless. Yet with many of them, expressions of love and adoration were part of the story, a deep spiritual bond. He embodied it all. For people that are familiar with Prince you will know how he discovered and promoted female talent within the music industry as far back as the eighties. He was a revolutionary in that respect, and many more. He chose musicians that were exemplary in their talents. He set a standard right from the beginning. There has never been then or now a male artist that has written about women the way Prince did. They were empowered, strong, diverse and for a teenage girl with cerebral palsy like myself who was never going to fit in to society’s idea of traditionally beautiful, he gave me the strength to say fuck you, time and time again. “I am woman. Hear me roar.”

Everybody has a Prince story. Everybody wants to share a moment. To talk about their connection to him. I would like to tell you another story however, this one is for all his fans. The ones that helped me get into Koko on his London Hit and Run tour 2 years ago The ones that started up the hashtag on Twitter #getlisain The Prince/ Purple Army fan base who contacted his tour manager and asked on my behalf to ‘Get Lisa In’ The ones who tried to find out all the information on disability access at the doors. I made it clear that I did not want to take tickets away from those who had been queuing for hours, or indeed other disabled fans that needed access. I had been at Kings Place 2 days before with friends. I queued in the rain with everyone else only to be turned down 6 people from the front door. I was disappointed and my legs due to my cerebral palsy were done, but I wasn’t giving up quite yet. I had watched the tweets building throughout the tour, the excitement, the pure joy of the fans that saw him live, whether in a tiny club, or a bigger venue. I also saw the support. The people handing out bottles of water to those who had been queuing for hours. The people that leant money to others if they were short on the price of a ticket. Nobody fought for a space within the fan base. We all wanted to see him, and we were all going to facilitate that. All I experienced was generosity and love. Love for the man, his music and his fans.

To the person that started the #getlisain hashtag, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart. I thanked you then, over and over, and yet, I can’t remember your name. I hang my head in shame. Twitter can be a vile place, full of trolling and bigotry, but when it is used for good, incredible things can and do happen. What I am pleased about is that it opened up a conversation about disability access at his other gigs. All I had done is ask about access at Koko, not just for myself, but for the other disabled fans that could not stand for hours. Somehow my query got through to his tour manager Kiran Sharma. She contacted me and she found myself and my carer space. I still have the email, it won’t be deleted. On a cold February night in London, 2014, I entered Koko with my carer, past the disabled access area which was already full and into another roped off area, a lady was already sitting there with her carer. There was a spare seat left, so I sat down and waited to see Prince for the third time in my life. When he appeared yet again, I was overwhelmed by it all. I don’t need to tell you about the gig, you would have read the reviews. I will tell you that three songs in, I felt a tap on my shoulder and Kiran introduced herself. She was standing with a group of friends behind us, and it dawned on me in that second, that she had given up her VIP area so that we could see Prince. I had no words then, and I have none now. Words are just simply not enough. I am not sure why it has taken me this long to write about that moment and the days preceding it, perhaps I felt I could not find the right emotions, nothing that would do it justice anyway. I do know that something very special happened, something I will remember for the rest of my life. I will also be forever indebted to Kiran and her whole team. I know their hearts are broken right now too. This is part of Prince’s legacy. The music will always be there, but it was his ability [and those around him] to make everyone feel as if they mattered. That they were connected, and they were part of a movement bigger than themselves. Prince was transcendent. That is why we cry.

So please don’t think that those of us that are still grieving for him don’t care for the rest of the world, grief can make you care more for those suffering. More sensitive to it, more empathetic. Are our hearts not big enough to hurt for it all?

Q