They Say I'm Different: What We Can Learn from Betty Davis

Before the Rico Nasty’s, Macy Gray’s , Willow Smith’s, and Kelis’ of the world there was Betty Davis. The radical funk diva who marched to the beat of her own drum. The songstress and model was an original raddie (Radical x Baddie) who burst onto the scene in the 1970s. Her sexy persona, unique singing voice, and eclectic style made her stand out from her counterparts. There was simply no one quite like her, and in her case, that might have worked against her.

The funktress and once wife of Miles Davis, had a sexual and spiritual presence that was atypical of the time. She may actually be the first girl to scream on a track, yelling “He was a big freak, I used to beat him with a turquoise chain” on her 1974 song He Was a Big Freak. The songstress was married to iconic Miles Davis, and is often credited for his eclectic evolution (think the Badu Pvssy effect 70s style.) Which begs the question, why have so many never heard of Ms. Davis?

"The only bad thing about a star is they burn up." - J Cole

I first discovered Davis in high school. As a certified, “I like art type girl,” I was always looking for role models with that certain jen na se qoui, and I was stopped in my tracks when I saw a photo of Davis on a motorcycle in a zebra leotard. She could be felt through the image, and I needed to know more about the girl in the picture. I couldn’t find much on Davis, especially in those days, but what I did find stuck with me. It wasn’t until I watched the documentary Betty: They Say I’m Different that I really got the full picture of her life. Betty, like many, dealt with her share of childhood trauma. Pair that trauma with undiagnosed mental health issues, a relationship turned toxic, and the special cocktail of misogynoir Black women face, and you’ve got a recipe for greatness, or disaster depending on how the wind blows.

We never talk about how isolating brilliance can be, and how lonely it can be on the leading edge. With no one around you to light your way, or hold you up, it’s easy for a highly sensitive artist to shrink or collapse under the pressure. Many confuse expressiveness as extroversion, and the two are not the same. As an introverted artist myself, I have often felt the internal struggle, the push and pull , me vs. me. The struggle between following my heart, while my head is clouded. Wanting to create, but feeling crippled by what creation comes with (the vulnerability, the criticism, the HORROR!) Not to mention, literally feeling unsafe to be me at times. There is something about a Black woman being her best and brightest self that triggers many people…deeply.

“Sometimes, it doesn’t feel safe to be seen. “ - me. 

I always felt different. I was interested in everything under the sun, and never really had a pension for prejudice. My open mindedness often left me feeling strange, because not many were on my wavelength. As an adult, I can look back and say, I was ahead of my time, a free-thinker, authentic even. At the time, I felt…weird; and the last thing you wanted to be in LA was “weird.” I harbored a lot of shame, and learned to dim down and shrink, and I still deal with those toxic thoughts today. I can only imagine how Betty or any of the radical women before here may have felt. So utterly free, yet alone at the same time. She eventually stepped away from music and retreated to a quiet life.

Though I wish Betty would’ve shined longer and brighter, I am happy she shared her light at all; inspiring the girls around the world just like me, who always felt different. May our authenticity outweigh our anxiety!

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