Gitchy, Gitchy, Ya Ya Ya Ya

When I was a little girl the name of the song was Gitchy, gitchy, ya ya ya ya. No they didn't change the title once I became an adult, but that was the name of the song as far as me and my cousin Sandy was concerned. And though we never knew the words to the song we would sing it just as loudly and with just as much confidence, twisting our little hips and belting out every little made up word as if we'd wrote the song ourselves. And even though at that age I was Chaka Khan and she was Natalie Cole, we were more than happy to take a break from our borrowed personas and "become" Patti Labelle. And I must say my cousin Sandy and I could really give Ms. Labelle a run for her money.

I remember that growing up we were allowed to sing and dance to that song. My mother didn't forbid me from singing to it or dancing to it. My granmother didn't stop us and neither did my Aunt Sarah. Which is a shocker the more I think about it, because she almost gave me a whoopin' for using the words "To Hot To Trot". And I wasn't even calling anybody that I was just repeating what someone else had said.

I said that to say, that back then we had boundaries. There were things we couldn't say, things we couldn't repeat and songs that we couldn't sing to or dance to. There was a place for children when grown folks were talking (and that place wasn't up in grown folk's faces looking into their mouths). There were rules, some spoken and some unspoken, but rules nonetheless. And somehow I didn't feel deprived. I felt protected.

Sure I use to pout. I remember when my Aunt Florence bought me and my cousin Sandy our first pair of high heeled shoes and I wasn't allowed to wear mine and by the time my mother said I could they didn't fit anymore (that pissed me off). But I understand why my mother did what she did.

Would it have mattered if she let me wear the shoes when I first got them while they still fit? Probably not. They were ugly navy blue shoes with thick wooden heels. And it was highly unlikely that my cousin and I would have been mistaken for a couple of child prostitutes in them. But I knew that it was her rule and I had to abide by it. No biggy.

But I have to say it's funny how Sandy and I were allowed to sing and dance to Lady Marmalade (A.K.A Gitchy, Gitchy Ya Ya Ya Ya). I have to believe it was because we had no idea what we were singing about and it had to help us out that we made up our own words. I bet it was real entertaining watching two little girls with baby blankets wrapped around our heads (that was our long fake hair), singing our little hearts out. Or perhaps it was easier to allow us to sing and dance and have our fun without having to stop us and explain why such a fun song was bad for two nice little 5 year old girls to sing. Regardless to why that song wasn't forbidden to us I'm thankful because it gave me one of the best memories of growing up with my cousin Sandy.