Dear Omoye:
I love you. I cherish you. I miss you when I’m away. You are such a bright and beautiful young lady. Sometimes I look at you, and I can’t believe that I have a daughter as mature, as loving as you. It’s still surreal at times that I’m a father, and when you say “Dad,” it’s like I am Daddy for real. I have a life to help shape, a person to listen to and to give to. I have a responsibility to you, to help you to be the best human being you can be.
I know that I have not always been there. My life keeps me on the road. It seems like there’s always a new album or a film. I fight with myself because I know that sometimes I just have to stop and be. Be there for you. Be there with my time and attention. I think one of the hardest things I have experienced is finding a way to balance my dreams with yours. I know I can be selfish because my dreams mean so much to me. I figure that once I attain my goals, I can take care of all my loved ones. But, of course, there’s no end, there’s no stopping place. That’s why I have to find the balance.
I hope you realize that all throughout my journey, you have been in my heart, in my spirit. I feel wonderful when you call me from school on your teacher’s assistant break. I think it’s so funny that you are a T.A., and our conversations are just free and honest. That’s what I want for you, Omoye. I want you to be a free person—free in her thoughts, free in her emotions, free to hear and to love with your whole being. I want you to have the freedom to discover, the freedom to believe, the freedom to fail, and the freedom to keep going in the face of challenge. I want your spirit to stay free always.
Along with that, I pray that you will follow truth. It’s an old saying from the Bible, but the truth will set you free. If you follow truth and act in its name, you will be a happier person for it. Truth is what God gave us. Truth is what you feel in your spirit, not what someone tells you or what someone expects you to be. Truth is yours to live.
I know your heart is pure, and I pray that you will be allowed to stay that way. Stay courageous enough to be the person you are. I’m watching you grow. Our conversations are changing. You really do have your own perspective, your own way of thinking. I hope you continue to let that grow. I will give you all the love and guidance and support and prayers and understanding and lessons that I have, and I know you will take that and learn in your life. You will experience peaks and valleys, joys and hurts, but through these experiences, know that God will always be with you. You are God’s child, and with His love, you will always make it through. All is possible.
And, Omoye, right after God’s love is my love. I am there. Your mother is there. Your grandmother and grandfather are there. You are loved. You are loved, and you are cared for as a queen. We all unconditionally love you. Daddy loves you beyond all measure.
Love,
Dad
GAZING AT THE NIGHT SKY HELPS YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT STARS really do—they shine down bright on the world. For a star, the spotlight doesn’t have to be on for it to shine. Being a star doesn’t necessarily have to do with popularity or exposure. I know some stars whose names aren’t known at all except to the people in their immediate circles. Sometimes you’ll see a child saying or doing something, and you’ll think, “That little person is a star.” They just illuminate their own area.
I think Kanye is a self-illuminating star. Even if he had never gotten famous, he’d still be shining his light. I know that I am such a star and always was. I just had to find my light and let it shine. My star and Kanye’s star were in entertainment, an area that our society gives extra attention. But there are stars illuminating all sorts of fields, all sorts of galaxies of human experience. They may not be as glorified by society at large as athletes and entertainers, but they shine bright regardless.
There are certain people who are supernovas that just light up the universe. People like Michael Jackson. He influenced so many people with his music. Look at how people were connected to him, were affected by him. It crossed all borders, all barriers of race and language and politics. Even through the controversies, his light continued to shine upon us and bring joy. When he passed away, look at how many people felt connected to him, like we knew him, like he meant something specific to our lives. He shined on us in a way that only God could have created. The same is true for other supernovas. Oprah Winfrey. Harry Belafonte. Muhammad Ali. They shined, they still shine so bright. What all stars have in common, though, no matter how bright they shine, is that inner light. That’s God shining through: using stars to bring joy. That’s the reason that stars can heal, even.
I once heard a story about a woman diagnosed with terminal cancer. The doctors said she had only months to live. Rather than shrink away in despair—which many would have done, and which would have been her right—she chose to live the end of her life surrounded by love and laughter. She invited friends and family over, and they’d tell stories to one another and watch movies, almost always comedies. She laughed night after night, watching Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy and Whoopi Goldberg on the screen. She laughed so much that she started feeling stronger. She laughed so much that when she went back into the hospital, the doctors said that her cancer was in remission. She laughed her way back to life. Now, no one can say exactly what healed her—perhaps the cancer would have receded on its own—but I can’t help believing that the joy she found in loved ones and laughter made the difference.
I remember the moment I first felt like a star. It wasn’t when I went on my first tour or made my first music video. It wasn’t the first time I saw myself on television or on the cover of a magazine. It was early in the summer of 2000, and “The Light” had just come out. That was a big song for me—not just because it was a hit but also because it was one of my first love songs. I was doing a radio show in Los Angeles for the Beat. When I was rapping, I remember looking out in the crowd and seeing little black girls singing along, singing “The Light.” I’d never had that.
After the show ended, a bunch of girls came running after me. What made me feel like a star was that I was rapping about loving a woman and her being the light and how she reflected God’s light, and these little black girls were singing my words along with me. That suddenly made my purpose clear. I have a goal that’s bigger than myself. That’s when I felt that I’d finally begun to fulfill the promise I made to Emmett Till so many years earlier in that tunnel. Do something bigger than myself. That’s the definition of a star.
One of the biggest stars I’ve ever been around is Oprah Winfrey. She’s brought so much good to the world, and that makes her great. I’ve been on The Oprah Winfrey Show twice: once when I was supposed to be, for a show she did on hip-hop, and once when I wasn’t. Let me tell you about November 29, 2005, the time I wasn’t. Earlier that year, I had received a call from Jamie Foxx, who was working on an album, fresh off his Oscar win for portraying Ray Charles, and he wanted to collaborate with me.
“Rash, I got this song, and I think you’d be perfect,” he said. “It’s about a girl having a baby. Come on and bless it with a verse. We’ll record it, and then we’ll go perform it on the Oprah show.”
“Man, you don’t even need to say that. If the vibe is right for what I do, I’ll do it for you.”
Of course, I wanted to go on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Who doesn’t? Plus, I knew that my mom would be there. It would be in the Chi. It would be a big deal.
Jamie and I went on to record the song, “U Still Got It.” The time came for the taping of Oprah. I flew to Chicago with a brand-new suit and a fresh haircut. I was clean! I made it to the studio and was taken to a dressing room. Showtime was getting close, and I could hear Jamie and the band rehearsing. I listened, and it sounded like they rehearsed every song of the album except for the one I was on. If that wasn’t strange enough, I saw Jamie’s manager walk past my door. He turned right around when he noticed me.
“Common? What’s going on, man? It’s a surprise to see you. What are you doing here?”
What was going on? Had Jamie forgotten? Was this one of his practical jokes? I explained the plan as Jamie had explained it to me.
“Jamie didn’t say a word about that to me.”
“Let me go talk to him,” I said.
“Actually, man, he’s about to go on. Oprah just went out onstage. Let me check.”
He came back ten minutes later to say that they might be able to get me on the untelevised after-show. The after-show? I bought a new suit. I got my hair cut. For the after-show? Man, this couldn’t be happening.
So there I was in the green room, watching the show like I was on my couch back in LA. They were halfway through and in a commercial break when I noticed Jamie lean over and whisper something to Oprah.
“Common’s here?” Oprah said. “I love Common. Yes, we have to get him out here!”
In the last segment, they rushed me up to the stage, and we just did the damn thing. No rehearsal at all. We rocked it.
My music has opened up so many opportunities for me to meet new people and travel to new places. I was invited to perform in Cuba for Black August, promoting human rights through music and culture. I was one of the few hip-hop artists invited. In order to perform at the festival, I had to write down my lyrics for the Cuban government to approve them. Despite the challenges, I knew this would be an amazing experience. This means something. I’m representing hip-hop. I’m representing black America. It was a special time.
I start thinking, how many souls hip-hop has affected
How many dead folks this art resurrected?
How many nations this culture connected?
—“THE 6TH SENSE”
Like most Americans, I associated Cuba with a handful of words. Castro. Ché. Revolution. Crisis. Embargo. I left Cuba with other words resonating in my mind. Love. Rhythm. Kindness. Richness. I saw some of the richest people there that I’ve ever seen—rich in spirit, even if they were poor in wealth. Cuba is one of the most beautiful cultures in the world: art, food, and life there are so profound that neither financial circumstances nor their politically complicated relationship with the United States can deprive who they are as a people. They have great pride, but also great generosity. The things they value are family, food, art, culture. They stand for something.
Next to Cuba, one of the most dramatic trips I’ve taken was to Beijing, China. We were there only for maybe a day and a half. Right outside my window, though, I could see the Great Wall of China. We, the band and me, also had some of the best food I’ve ever tasted.
I was happy to be in Beijing because its culture is so different from ours. So often when I travel I see so much of how other countries have adopted elements of American culture—and often the worst elements of it, too. That the Chinese didn’t really seem to give a damn about American culture was refreshing.
But they were very strict. Just like in Cuba, we had to write down our lyrics for that show. The organizer was telling us we were one of the first hip-hop acts to appear in Beijing and at this festival. And he was telling us how much he had to go through to get us permission to perform. We were supposed to have a forty-five-minute set, but because we couldn’t get the sound right—the translation was crazy—we probably got to perform for only ten, fifteen minutes. The way the venue was set up, government officials sat ten feet away from us; the police, twenty feet away; and the audience, thirty or forty feet away. The promoter said he had to ask permission even for the fans to put their hands up and dance. That made me appreciate the freedoms we enjoy in America, freedoms we often take for granted. To have to ask if you can put your hands up at a show? And the way that the police were stiff-arming and elbowing and pushing back fans trying to come up to speak to me—I mean, just to speak to me. It was women they were strong-arming. We tried to tell them to cut it out, but that was their way.
What a surreal experience to wake up in the morning and walk along the Great Wall, then get on a plane and arrive in Paris in time to have a late dinner along the Seine River. I took that as a sign of an earthly paradox: just how big the world is and just how small we can make it. I crossed borders and cultures and time zones, I walked along one of the wonders of the world and ended the day in the City of Light, all in less than twenty-four hours. Thinking back on experiences like that makes me understand the value of fame—not for what it is but for the opportunities it brings.
Sometimes the most famous feel all alone
So we trip to a place that we call our home
I was known as being spaced and outta my dome
Now I know it’s all I’ve known
—“EVERYWHERE”
Over the years, my ideas about fame have changed. As I see it now, it’s more a process than an achievement. I’ve acquired it in increments. First I was known around the neighborhood for playing ball or for running with my crew or for being a ball boy for the Bulls. Where I grew up, just being talented would get you fame. You’d get respect from the gangbangers and the grandmothers. After I started rhyming, I started building a name beyond the neighborhood. Once I signed a record deal and had released a couple albums, people outside of the city started knowing my name. As my airplay increased, and as I started touring around the globe, my fame expanded even more. Now, being in movies, I’m recognized by people who would never have known me from the rap game. Just the other day, I was crossing the street, and I heard an old white couple in their car saying, “That’s Common!”
When I was preparing for my role as a professional basketball player in Just Wright, I spent a lot of time with Baron Davis, the NBA star. One day after a hard-fought game of one-on-one (I lost, but not by much!), I asked Baron what made him want to be a ballplayer in the first place. “When I was a little kid,” he said, “I saw the neighborhood react when the Lakers were winning. This is the ‘Showtime’ era: Magic, Kareem, Worthy. When they were winning, it brought the whole neighborhood together. I wanted to do that.”
I knew exactly what he meant. From the very beginning, I’ve measured my talents by the reactions of those around me. If I said a rhyme, I’d wait for my friends to say, “That’s cold!” That recognition was the best reward. When people come up to me today and say, “You’re a dope MC,” that’s fulfillment. Now when people come up to me and say they loved a film I’ve been in, that makes me want to keep going. It fuels my passion to create.
Fame is a wonderful thing. I never run from it. Obviously, I love the attention, or I wouldn’t have gone from rapping to acting—I would have gone from rapping to carpentry or something. I can get tired of the recognition sometimes. I might be having a nice dinner with my lady, and somebody comes up and asks to take a picture. Or I might be having a bad day, and a parent and a child stop me on the street. I might not want to be Common at all that day, but I’ll still show people the love and respect they deserve. I chose this life. When you are putting out music and films, you want to touch the world. Well, there’s a chance that when you touch the world, the world is going to want to touch you back. When the world reaches out to me, I embrace it. That is the responsibility of stardom.
Having a little bit of fame is a form of fulfillment for me. Ever since I was young, I knew I wanted to leave a mark on this earth so that the world would know that I was here. I want what I create to survive well past the limits of my own life. Every time I record an album, every time I make a film, I’m striving to create something that people will want to pass on. I know I don’t always achieve that, but it’s my goal every time. The times I fall short I take as opportunities to learn. But I strive to create timeless art every time. That’s what I meant by finding forever. I want my art to be my legacy. I want to walk that forever line.
In my mind, fame has always been directly linked to greatness and greatness to hard work. I’ve never quite understood the concept of a “reality star”—someone who’s famous for getting drunk or losing weight or just living his or her life on the TV screen. For me, fame has always been about talent. Celebrity or notoriety is one thing. But fame and stardom come from the public’s recognition of your gift. My goal from the beginning was to take whatever spark of greatness God granted me and bring it to light. Let that greatness be illuminated.
That’s why it’s always slightly uncomfortable when people give me attention for what I think aren’t the best reasons. “Sex symbol.” It’s an odd phrase. When you see it attached to your name, it’s hard to know what to make of it. Be flattered, I guess. It’s not like I’ve run from it. When you’re plastered all over billboards and cineplexes flexing your biceps in a basketball jersey, you can’t say you aren’t aware of the response you’ll get.
What do women see in me? I hope they see their idea of a real man, one who is loving, open-hearted, and expressive. At the same time, I hope they see a nigga who’s gonna be strong, who’s going to be the man of the house. He’ll lead when he needs to lead. He’s confident in being different, assured of himself in that way. He’s confident enough to be vulnerable, too. He’ll express his heart. They see a man who’s spiritual and street. They know that if we’re out in public, he’s going to be the protector. He’ll work and provide for them, but also pamper and comfort them too.
At one point in the nineties, it was all about the thug. Then women said they wanted some aspects of that, but they also wanted a gentleman, a man who will be loving and will listen, a man who has values. I’m going to open a door. I’m going to walk on the outside when we’re on the street. I’m going to listen to what she likes and give her the best of what she likes.
Sincerity has a lot of seduction. I seduce a woman by using our true connection to open her up. I seduce through being me. Being yourself is seductive. I’m a sexual person, so I’m going to be real. You say sweet things, but you say what’s on your mind, too. “I want to brush my lips against the back of your neck.” Or maybe “I want to fuck the shit out of you.” By the way she responds, you know when it’s right.
It took me some time to learn all of these things, to figure out how to be a man with a woman. In my adult life, I’ve only seriously dated four women: Kim, Erykah, Taraji, and finally Serena. I feel like all the relationships before Serena Williams were leading up to this: to loving a woman with all that I’ve got.
As men we were taught to hold it in
That’s why we don’t know how ’til we older men
If love is a place I’ma go again
At least now I know to go within
—“LOVE IS . . .”
I met Serena at a party that Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith had to welcome David and Victoria Beckham back in July of 2007. Serena was dating some guy at the time. But we exchanged numbers, and then when Finding Forever came out later that month, she texted to congratulate me. I knew I liked her the first moment I talked to her. She had started winding down with her guy. About two months later, she called me.
Our first date was special. I brought her to a rehearsal, and it was like giving her a one-man show. Every song, I was just performing for her. Serena was unlike any woman I had ever dated, any woman I have ever known. On the surface, we were so different. Serena was talking to me at first about how she loved Harry Potter and Green Day. That might not have been my taste, but your preferences are less important than your values and how you maintain yourself. In that regard, we couldn’t be a better match.
It’s kinda fresh you listen to more than hip-hop
And I can catch you in the mix from beauty to thrift shop
Plus you shit pop when it’s time to, thinkin’ you fresh
Suggestin’ beats I should rhyme to
—“THE LIGHT”
Love is in the details as much as it is in the dramatic gestures. I show my love for Serena in small ways. She told me she really loved the shoes the girl wore in the video for “I Want You,” so I went and got her those. There’s a song we used to hear a lot when Serena and I first met, called “Bubbly” by Colbie Caillat. It was her ringtone, too. Well, I was in the studio with Colbie one day and asked her to do an acoustic version and dedicate it to Serena and me. I like sending Serena cherry pies. I buy her flowers for every tennis tournament. I don’t want to tell everything. I want to keep some things sacred—not secret, but sacred.
I’m at a point now where I’m really feeling like I want to be married. Some of the intensity and power and spirit I feel with Serena let me know that a lifetime commitment is possible. I’d like to be in a healthy, loving relationship with a woman. I’d like to experience the comforts of a woman. Unfortunately, I sometimes look for motherly things in a woman. You know, nurturing, caretaking. But by the same token, I want strength. That softness and that strength together is what I’ve found in Serena.
I’m learning things to build my relationship. For instance, Serena is a Jehovah’s Witness. Her faith is central to her life. So to connect with her, I have to engage with her faith—not only for the relationship but also so that when I talk to our kids, I’ll know what Serena is teaching them. Right now I’m at a place where I’m letting God handle it. I pray and I make sure that I express my love to Serena. Her strength and my strength together, it feels really good.
This is my vision of marriage: it is the love that you share with another that enhances you both. You can become better students of God and children of the Lord; you can become better yous. You will support whatever dreams and visions each of you has for your life, and you can share common dreams for your future together. A spouse is somebody you can have fun with and argue with, someone with whom you can build a family.
With the right person, you can open up and be all that you are, the good and the bad, and that person will still love you. You join together and become one, as the Bible says. Think of yourself as being in a bond that’s spiritual, an eternal covenant. To me, marriage is saying that I choose this person for the rest of my life. God has set me on this earth, and there are a lot of people in my life, but I choose to be with you for the rest of my days. You don’t choose your child. But you can choose your spouse. This is a person with whom you can share your life. Your life is the most valuable thing you have. I want to experience this gift that God has given me, and I want to experience it with you. Coming home and knowing that you’ve got that person you love right there. Those warm legs covering your legs. And then sometimes being like, “Come on, baby, can I get some room in the bed? My back!” It’s all of that.
My journey in love has led me to this place: of loving with my whole heart, of embracing the opportunity to build a life with someone else. I read somewhere that on average people have about sixty thousand words in their vocabulary, but that on most days we use only a fraction of them. As someone who creates with language, I’m fascinated by the shades of meaning and the range of sounds that different words can create. For all the words I may use in an average day, though, the most important word in my vocabulary is love.
I use love to describe my relation to God and to family and to friends. I use it in my music. I use it as a verb. I use it as a noun. I even use it as a way to say good-bye. I picked up that last way of using love from my guy Dart. I think he started saying it in the 1990s, when it seemed like everyone was saying “peace”—peace this, peace that. Why not say love instead? After all, love is the best means to peace. That idea stuck with me.
Now I use love almost every time I say good-bye to someone I care about. I end almost every phone conversation with it too. The way I see it, the more we put the word out into the world, the more it will manifest itself in our daily lives. We can never have too much love.
One of my favorite biblical passages deals with love: 1 Corinthians 13.
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I have become sounding brass or a clanging cymbal. And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, but have not love, it profits me nothing.
Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Love never fails. But whether there are prophecies, they will fail; whether there are tongues, they will cease; whether there is knowledge, it will vanish away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect has come, then that which is in part will be done away.
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I also am known. And now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.
I LOVE THIS CHAPTER because it makes me think about having all of those things: all the faith, all the hope, but with love still being the most important thing. Every time I read the passage, I understand something new within it. Spending time with my daughter, being in a loving relationship, being in nature—all of those things are worthy of love. To love is the highest purpose we can have. When you have love in your heart, you’re able to function as the highest you that you can be. At the same time, love is not just about you. When you really love someone, when you love your community, you’re doing something for them too.
When I woke up this morning and I read this chapter, a phrase just popped into my head: “the gift of love.” That phrase honestly embodies what matters most to me. My mother’s greatest gift to me was love. Her gift enables me to walk the world with love. The greatest gift I can give my daughter is that strength to love.
Omoye has made me a better person, even a better man. As I’ve seen her grow into a young woman—she’s a teenager now—I’ve also seen myself grow as a man. Whatever my mother couldn’t teach me, it seems like my daughter has. At the same time, I’ve worked hard to pass along to her all of my mother’s wisdom.
Waiting for the Lord to rise, I look into my daughter’s eyes
And realize that I’ma learn through her
The Messiah might even return through her
If I’ma do it, I gotta change the world through her
—“BE”
What has kept me going through all the struggles I’ve faced in my life? The love of God. The love of family and friends. The love of hip-hop. Love has driven me. I love what I do. I love rapping. I love acting. I love to see that people are moved.
The things I don’t love? Not following my heart. When I’m in the midst of people and I’m not being truthful. Or when I’m in situations that don’t feel authentic. I’m doing it just because someone thinks it’s the right thing to do. I don’t love being afraid of things. I don’t love not speaking up. I don’t love lying. I love honesty and strive for it. I love work.
Perhaps the greatest love of my life is my daughter, Omoye. The love a parent has for a child is beyond measure. As she’s grown older, the two of us have forged a bond of friendship to go along with that father-daughter love. We have fun going to the movies or going ice skating with her and her friends. Her friend just beat me in a little basketball video game. Omoye rubbed it in: “She said she would beat you again!” I love her spirit and her playfulness; it brings out the playfulness in me.
Talk about it with my youth so she’d understand
What it is to be loved by a man
—“LOVE IS . . .”
Ever since she was little, I’d play beats for her and ask her which beats she liked. And then she’d say, “Rap, Daddy! Rap!” I’d start rhyming, and I’d ask, “Did you like that?” Just the other day, she was helping me with a lyric. “Nah, keep saying it the way you did the first time. That one was good.”
Recently, I asked Omoye, “What’s the one thing that Daddy said, that he taught you, that you remember most?” “To be respectful,” she said. She used to tell my mother that the reason she gives money to homeless people is that she’s seen me do it all the time. I wanted to show her that it’s good to give. To be able to give is a beautiful thing. As much as you’re helping somebody else, you should find the joy in it too. I want her to know that. Omoye tells me I’m a good daddy. “You treat people nice.” More than anything, she’s learned from me that treating people with respect is important.
His greatest virtues are his charity, his spirituality, his humility. Those are his greatest. His love of people. He definitely got that through the family. My mother is a giver. I didn’t even realize I was a giver or where it came from, because it was always there. My mother was always giving. Until I got grown, I didn’t even think about it. Somebody said, “You’re a giving person.” I didn’t even think about it. It was natural. I think it’s natural with him, too. Now it’s becoming natural with Omoye. That was something that was in our environment. I thought that’s just what people do. No, I learned, everybody doesn’t do that. It just goes to show how much your parents can influence you.
I FIGHT WITH MYSELF knowing that I haven’t always been the dad I wanted to be for her. I haven’t fought sometimes to be around her. Sometimes I took the passive route, avoiding conflict with her mother at the expense of seeing my daughter.
“Daddy, I want to come and see you,” she’ll tell me. That makes me feel good, but it also makes me feel sad because it reminds me that I’m not in her life every day. As her dad, I want her to know that she is loved to the utmost and that she has that love from a man—the first man in her life. Knowing that, she can go into her future relationships and really be able to love in a healthy way. The love that I can give to Omoye and the ideals and values that I can teach her will be her foundation. They’ll be qualities that she can use in her relationships. I know this because I’ve lived these truths myself. I know this because my mother gave this love to me.