To be honest,everybody from Macon is irresistible.

Little Richard just packaged it best. Better than anybody before him did or after him will. I can’t say it was his music that got me to know and love him. The music was brilliant, no doubt. It was like celebratory fact. ‘Tutti Frutti’ (oh, Ruuudy!) was as indelible as Miss Mary Mac or the happy birthday song. It was a song everybody - not just black people, not just southern people, not just american people - everrryybody knew. How does a song get to that kind of status? Is it the song or the singer that makes it so?

When I heard Little Richard talk - I believe the first time must’ve been some short after-performance segment on an old variety show - that’s when I fell in love with him. Thats when I realized why he was a legend. And it wasnt just for high-energy dance tunes with high-note punctuation. When he spoke, I heard it. Macon. That way of talking we have that cuts you deep, but also kinda makes you want to laugh, and sort of reminds you of an elder you once loved fiercely. Little Richard reminded me of that and of some of the menfolk I grew up around. They were, um... funny. I think that’s the euphemism we were using back then. They were naughty, loud, pretty, stylish, arrogant, and more than a little self-conscious and insecure. In essence, they were like I was then - teenage girls. But they were better at it, way better at it than I was. And I loved them. I kinda think everybody did. Even the folks who said they didn’t love them ‘cause they were ‘that way’. 

Today, my grandma remembered for me the time she saw ‘Li’l Richard’ at the national COGIC convention. It was later in his life. It strikes me for the first time that they were peers. 

My mom asks, “Was he wearing makeup and all that?” 

Grandma: “Naw, he had come up outta that. He was wearing a suit like a regular man.”

Me (already knowing the answer): “Did he stay up outta it?”

“Naw.”

I spend more than a few moments reflecting on that. How a man that fantastic and talented and ‘that way’ made it in a time like that in a town like Macon. As he said himself, “The biggest thing in my hometown was the jailhouse.” 

Little Richard was proof that being from a small town didn’t make you small. Just hidden. Tucked off to the side a bit. So if you had something to say— a song to sing or a rug to cut- You might need to wave your hands around a bit more than the next person or be a bit louder, a bit more gregarious to be seen and heard. And if somebody still tried to drown you out with their own noise, you could always just tell em... 

“Shut up!” 

Kisha Solomon is an Atlanta-based writer, knowledge worker and serial expat. She writes witty, poignant stories about the lessons she’s learned from her life, work and travels. She deals with the sometimes frustrating and often humorous side effects of being black, female and nerdy. When she’s not writing working or travelling, you can find her in deep conversation with herself or her four-legged familiar, Taurus the Cat. www.lifeworktravels.com