Source: Courtesy of Tre Media / Tre MediaAs Black millennials witness the disintegration of every version of the American Dream, the announcement of Brandy and Monica’s first-ever tour transcends being a mere moment in music history; it serves as a profound reminder that the things we believed were lost can still return to us. Their reunion signifies that joy isn’t solely a thing of the past, and that reconciliation, healing, and Black womanhood can coexist under the spotlight, potentially transforming our lives in the process.
For many of us, the notion that these two iconic artists would ever perform together again felt more like a dream than a reality. We had come to terms with missed opportunities, fragmented memories, and the whispers of what might have been. The release of Ariana Grande’s remix of “The Boy Is Mine” sparked a flicker of hope. When the Grammy nomination followed, it ignited our imagination further, yet we hesitated to fully embrace the possibility. And now, at last, we have it—the tour, the dream, the long-awaited reunion.
This tour represents more than just music; it serves as a model of possibility for Black millennials who have diligently followed the prescribed path of success yet find themselves burdened with debt, exhaustion, and a facade of joy curated for social media. For those of us spending weekends in expensive sections, lifting expensive bottles to momentarily escape the weight of unfulfilled dreams, the reality of our aspirations fell short. Yet, Brandy and Monica? They have returned for us.
It may seem excessive to place such significance on a single tour, but being born in 1982, I have witnessed every phase of their journeys—the triumphs, the heartaches, and the silence. When “It All Belongs to Me” was released, I dared to hope. But then came the loss of Whitney Houston. The grief we held for Whitney morphed into sorrow for the future we envisioned for both Brandy and Monica.
Their solitary Grammy Award stemmed from their iconic collaboration, marking the pinnacle of recognition for two solo powerhouses who achieved their greatest accolades together. Now, decades later, they return—not in competition, but in a powerful act of reclamation.
This tour stands as evidence that genuine connections remain untouched by the passage of time.
Authentic relationships cannot be sustained by mere success alone, and Black women, regardless of circumstances, will always find their way back to each other. I frequently reflect on what it means for two daughters of Whitney Houston to guide us today—not just in music, but also on emotional, spiritual, and communal levels.
We’ve Grown Up With Them—and Through Them
If you’re under 45, Brandy and Monica have undoubtedly been the soundtrack of your life.
Brandy nurtured us with her vocal runs. I spent countless hours in a confined space absorbing every ad lib from Full Moon alongside my friend TJ. “Never Say Never” became a healing balm for every part of me that felt invisible. Brandy was our modern-day Cinderella, and Whitney was her fairy godmother. I genuinely believed that dreams could still manifest because of their influence.
During my divorce in 2018, Monica’s “Still Standing” became my lifeline. Her voice—this young girl singing about pain that I only fully grasped in my late 30s—reminded me that I was still alive, that I could love again, and that hope was still within reach.
Lessons in the Politics of Possibility from Brandy and Monica
As an activist, I firmly believe in the transformative power of music. If chaos erupts in a room and I play “Back That Azz Up,” the energy in that space will unify everyone present. This is the sacred power embedded in our music.
It’s the same magic that resonates in songs like “The Boy Is Mine,” “Have You Ever,” “Everything to Me,” “Just One of Them Days,” or anything from “Full Moon.” These tracks encapsulate Black joy, Black catharsis, and Black memory.
Now, with Monica’s children blossoming into their individuality and Brandy’s daughter Sy’rai stepping into her own spotlight, we are witnessing the continuation of their legacy. We are no longer just fans; we are active witnesses to this remarkable journey.
Understanding That This Journey Has Always Been About Us
Let’s face it: the essence of their “feud” was never solely about them; it was deeply rooted in patriarchy, media narratives, and Brandy’s little brother on “The Breakfast Club.” A generation of men helped construct a tale of rivalry between these two talented young women before they even had the opportunity to define their own narratives.
“The Boy Is Mine” was predominantly male-produced—right from the lyrics to the studio dynamics. In a recent podcast, Rodney Jerkins revealed that producers orchestrated the collaboration with the assumption that conflict would arise between the girls. Before Brandy or Monica even heard the song, men had already scripted a narrative of tension driven by fandom, fear, and the misguided belief that there’s only room for one.
Society continues to perpetuate the notion that two QUEENS cannot find a shared space large enough to accommodate two thrones.
Yet here they are. Sharing the stage, creating a space, and refusing to diminish their presence.
Moreover, they are not alone in this journey. They have invited Kelly Rowland—one of the iconic members of Destiny’s Child—and Muni Long, a protégé of Brandy, Mariah, and Whitney. The lineup represents a vibrant ecosystem of Black women’s excellence, intentionally bridging generations and legacies. This is not merely a nostalgic event; this is a powerful act of reclamation.
This Represents Our Ceasefire
In a time when our beloved icons are either fading away or disappointing us, Brandy and Monica have offered us a ceasefire—a sacred gift. They present a vision of what remains achievable when Black women prioritize healing over historical grievances, embrace power over pettiness, and choose community over external perceptions.
That’s why it’s crucial to infuse activist language, academic insights, and liberation strategies into moments that the world may dismiss as “just a concert.” If we trivialize this event, we risk missing the miracle it represents.
This isn’t simply a performance. This is resistance. This is recovery. This is revolution.
And the boy?
He was never the focal point.
The girls are.
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