2001: Mariah Carey, Glitter
By Charia Rose
She was kind of fragile, and she had a lot to grapple with, but basically she kept it all inside…
During recess one day, the radio station played a song that stopped me in my tracks. I stopped so fast that a dodgeball nailed me in the stomach, pushing the wind right out of me. We Belong Together, which went on to become the song of the decade, was my gateway drug to having my world flipped, dropped, and made anew by The Emancipation of Mimi, and my official initiation into the Lambily. After a deep dive on the then prestigious search engine Ask Jeeves, I was a bit disheartened to learn the original Renaissance de Mariah was in the ’90s, and my birth in 95’ meant I missed the peak of her career. Basically, I had some catching up to do. Back when UPN (RIP) would marathon reruns and random movies every Saturday, I stumbled across Glitter. The music. The 80’s backdrop. MC acting her ass off. I was eating it up.
Naturally, I ran to youtube to find all the music. And for a little while, it was accessible. Until it wasn’t. Glitter was not to be seen or heard from that point forward. Mariah’s orders. It wasn’t adding up for me. From her debut in 1990 to the release of Rainbow in 1999, Mariah had amassed 15 Billboard #1 hits (16 if you count the newly minted “All I Want For Christmas Is You”), 4 albums debuting at #1, and 2 certified Diamond albums. The woman had at least one hit single every fucking year of the ’90s. No one was seeing her at the peak of her reign. Period. The dark side to this is that all this success was under the thumb of her ex-husband and studio executive Tommy Mottola. Her hard-fought-for success was always going to be shrouded in a fog of toxicity and abuse, and if her image shift in 97’ during Butterfly was any indication, she was ready to spread her wings and fly the fuck out of there.
Mariah made it to the other side of the rainbow and signed a $100 million record deal with Virgin, the highest record deal of the time. She was free and had her debut film and soundtrack on the way. There was nowhere else to go but up.
Then, everything went to shit. Not only was she dealing with her first commercial “flop” (I guess an album peaking at #7 on the chart is considered a flop for Mariah), but the decade of nonstop work was finally catching up to her. All those groundbreaking accolades don’t come without a cost. We’ve all seen the TRL clips. We’ve all read the tabloid fodder around her hospitalization. It was a shitty time, one that Mariah religiously claims, “almost ruined my life.”
Yeah, I wouldn’t want to see that shit again, either.
Dear God, it's all so tragic, and I'll never have the chance to feel the closure that I ultimately need...
In 2018, Mariah revealed that during her 2001 hospitalization, she was diagnosed with Bipolar II disorder. As someone who was also diagnosed with Bipolar II that year, it was a lot for me to take in. I have been functioning off a “broken” brain for as long as I could remember, and learning that my favorite artist of all time has been experiencing somewhat similar things was affirming yet simultaneously devastating. There is a clarity that comes with any diagnosis: the fear and confusion that has been running your life up to that point finally has a name. It isn’t any less terrifying or horrific, but there is a promise that you can outsmart it. There is a playbook now, filled with audible plays to call when you need peace. Even if for a short time.
Part of my treatment plan is revisiting past experiences and trying to make sense of them. When it comes to trauma, our minds go into fight or flight mode. Sometimes, the best way to protect ourselves is to forget or reimagine. Your body is constantly fighting to stay alive--even when you aren’t willing it to do so. I can recollect experiences as early as 11 years old with the newfound ability to name these experiences. Why was it so hard to go to school that day? Oh, I was depressed. Why was I up until 4 am writing every night and not sleeping for a week? Oh, that was a hypomanic episode. For Mariah, the pain and embarrassment she experienced in 2001 is intrinsically connected to Glitter. All the sleepless nights in the studio, press junkets, and pressure from the label to bring this project to life nearly destroyed her. The best way to protect herself was to act as if the body of work simply did not exist.
When you are high functioning, it is always shocking for people to hear about your struggles. You may be in a hypomanic episode, but no one takes you seriously because you’re so productive. There are many TV pilots, short films, and college research papers I have quickly completed--all sponsored by hypomania. Even though those episodes would deplete me, I almost became desperate for them. Then work needs to get done, by any means necessary. But, what happens when suddenly that is no longer sustainable? Who are you without your hypomanic superpower? When your worth is connected to your mutual destruction, how do you recover from that? Is it even possible?
Your life has consisted of jumping from one high to a new low. Suddenly, there is a pivotal moment of clarity: it is a miracle that you are even alive.
The song Twister on the Glitter album is a goodbye letter to a dear friend that committed suicide. The lyrics hold a gentle heaviness in a way only Mariah could muster. The vocals delicate, like a butterfly landing on a daffodil. The layered vocal arrangement enveloping you in a wall of sound, desperate for you to not only hear her but to understand her. She is calling for something that could never find it's way to her. Love? Peace? Understanding? I'm not sure she even knew. That song has gutted me since I was 11 years old. I can look back now and understand why. I was so desperate to make sense of the pain and confusion I was experiencing that I was unable to see that time heals many wounds. I like to think Mariah can look back on that album, and that experience, with a newfound understanding.
Glitter is one hell of an album. If the circumstances were different, it would be known as one of the best albums in her vast discography. Fans (and locals) have been begging Mariah to acknowledge it forever, and now, nearly a decade later, she heard our cry and made it available for purchase and streaming. She even dropped some merch. Fancy that.
Yeah I'm feeling kind of fragile, and I've got a lot to handle, but I guess this is my way of saying goodbye...
We smile. We laugh. We do our best to look so beautiful that you could never guess how hard we may be struggling. We may never know the pain Mariah endured to become the queen of Billboard. The battles she fought to claim her place as a songwriter and producer during a period where many artists couldn’t imagine having control over their sound and career. The devastation that comes when a moment you have worked your entire life for bursts into flames, right before your eyes. It is fucking hard to find the beauty in the moments that nearly destroyed you. I look back now and laugh a little. I outsmarted my demons. So many of us don’t get to have that moment.
Mariah survived to see the very thing that, “almost ruined my life” become a blessing and reminder: you are meant to be here.
Charia Rose is a writer, director, and social justice educator. A self-proclaimed "Midwestern Baddie," she firmly believes in art as a means for deep reflection and strives to use it for social change. Recently, she directed the short film WITH(OUT) YOU, which is making rounds on the festival circuit. She is currently a fellow in the New York Stage and Film Filmmaker Workshop 2020 cohort.