Something very good happened to Chicago today.
Ne-Yo happened to Chicago today.
And it wasn't just a good thing because, let's face it, this crooner can dance and sing until even I am crying "Closer!" and I am ready to trade in all of my independence for one little swivel of his hips.
It was a good thing because in one evening, the entire clientele of the Taste of Chicago changed. I wasn't looking around at the middle and upper class white residents and vacationers. I was looking at a group of people that actually did represent the diversity of the city. At one point, I turned away from the magic on the stage to look at the magic around me. I began to count. Without moving my feet, yet turning 180 degrees, I saw black, white, Latinos and Latinas, Indians, Chinese and Southeast Asians. I saw uppity, fashionable college students whisper to each other intimately and junior high kids in bright colors and skin tight jeans gather in posses. I watched a beautiful African-American woman in cutting edge business clothes and stilettos start dancing with a group of reefers. I was intoxicated by an amazing family next to me. The little, caramel colored boy, age five, moaned and begged to leave. The chubby, eleven-year-old girl with the same caramel skin, sang into an imaginary microphone without ever lifting her eyes from the stage. She knew every word by heart. Their mom and aunt alternated between rocking the boy and rocking out-- but no one rocked out as hard core as the white as wonder bread Granny in blue leggings and dorky glasses.
Thank you, Neyo, I whispered instead of lip synching. We needed this.
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