When Marc walked into the stage area, Max and Emme went running up to him, excited to see him. And a lot of the dancers made a point of coming to watch the sound check too, because they were big fans of Marc.
At one point, I looked over and saw Marc sitting on the floor with the kids. They were so happy to be with him; they were climbing all over him. At that moment, the band started playing the opening notes of “No Me Ames,” which was one of the first things Marc and I had ever done together, so we have a lot of memories associated with that song. The whole scene was so surreal. When those notes started floating out over the stage, I looked down at him, and he looked up at me and laughed.
“How the hell did all this happen?” he asked me. And I knew what he meant. He meant everything—all the crazy twists and turns our lives had taken since we first sang that song together. How did we end up recording this song all those years ago, and how did we not get together then? And then how did we wind up getting married years later, having kids, and then divorcing . . . and now how was he sitting here with our kids, looking up at me as this song played again? It was this lovely, bittersweet lifetime of moments, all summed up in that one question.
“I don’t know,” I said. And we laughed. But it was a heavy moment, and I think everyone there that day could feel it. The fact that we’d been through so much, I had invited him to come, and he was there to support me—it was a moment filled with every kind of emotion. Just like life is.
On the night of the show, I did something I rarely do—I decided to speak in Spanish to the crowd. I’m Puerto Rican, but I grew up in New York, so although I speak Spanish pretty well, it’s not my first language. But I wanted to do it, to speak the language of the crowd, because I wanted this night to be magical for everyone:
“Estas son nuestras últimas actuaciones de the Dance Again tour. Esta gira ha sido un viaje increíble de música y amor. Y ha sido un honor y un placer terminarla aquí en Puerto Rico, donde hice mi primer concierto hace once años. Y como todos los grandes viajes de amor y música, incluso cuando se terminan, la música sigue...” (“These are our last performances of the Dance Again tour. This tour has been an amazing journey of music and love, and it has been an honor and a pleasure to end it here in Puerto Rico, where I did my first concert eleven years ago. And like all great journeys of love and music, even when the journey ends, the music goes on . . .”)
With that, the band played the first few notes of “No Me Ames,” and I turned to face the back of the stage, where Marc was rising up slowly through the floor. As soon as his face was visible, the place erupted—the crowd went absolutely insane, everyone was screaming so much that the band actually had to stop playing. It was pandemonium, people yelling and crying and clapping . . . Marc took a little bow. And then we started the song.
Dime por qué lloras
De felicidad
Y por qué te ahogas,
Por la soledad
(Tell me why are you crying?
Because I’m happy
And why are you so choked up?
Because I’m lonely)
Singing with Marc felt like a perfect, beautiful closure to that part of my life. Things might not have worked out the way I had planned, but I was so proud of where we had come, especially after all that heartache. It was the perfect ending to those two years of turmoil and confusion and sadness, and ultimately, recovery. It was the perfect start to the rest of my life.
When we finished the song and ran offstage together, I had my arm around him, and as soon as we were in the back, he exclaimed, “That’s what the fuck I’m talking about!” He was as happy and excited as I was. He gave me a big hug and said, “If you ever need anything . . .” His voice trailed off. We looked into each other’s eyes.
“I know,” I said.
He squeezed my hand, we both smiled . . . and off he went.
But the show wasn’t over, of course. It was time for me to do a quick change and get out there, because now it was my time to dance again.
I WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
The arena is completely dark. Suddenly, on the big screen above the stage, I appear like a black butterfly, with a black mask and the wind blowing through my hair. Quotes from different interviews I’ve done over the past year appear on the screen: I still believe in love. It’s still my biggest dream. You have to truly love yourself to be able to love another. It’s the encore of the show—the final song, the final message. I look out over the audience and say the words, “Always remember . . . You will live. You will love. You will dance again.”
When I first thought of this mantra, I was doing the video for “Dance Again.” I wanted people to really understand what the song meant to me. It was a declaration that I needed so much in my life at that moment, and that I know other people need in difficult moments of their own lives. I tried to think of the perfect line to put at the front of the video, a simple phrase that could help you get through any difficult moment . . . And then it came to me: I wasn’t going to die, I was going to survive. Things were going to get better, I just had to hold on. I was going to live, I was going to love, and I was going to dance again . . . I just had to remember that.
And so that’s what it was. After all, that was the theme that started it all. This is where we always wanted to end up. On that note.
My face disappears from the screen, replaced by the words: “Ámate. Love yourself.”
The spotlight goes up on the stage, and I start to sing.
Only got just one life this I’ve learned, who cares what they’re gonna say?
I wanna dance . . . and love . . . and dance . . . again.
Yes, I still believe in the fairy tale, but I want love in the right way. I want the kind of love that’s truly possible only when you love yourself first. This is my favorite moment in the whole show—the moment when we get to the “Dance Again” chorus, where everybody in the whole place jumps up and down, waving their arms, singing at the top of their lungs, “I want to dance . . . and love . . . and dance . . . again!” At that moment, the elation in the arena is like a revival. It is transcendent.
In every city, every night we performed, this was the moment that made me feel it was all worth it. All the pain, all the regret, all the uncertainty had led to this, to sharing myself with all of these screaming, jumping, sweaty fans, all of us shouting this one big affirmation together.
And then, of course, when the dance break comes, the lights go low and it’s art imitating life imitating art again . . . I’m dancing a sexy, fresh, totally revitalizing dance that reminds me, every time I do it, that life goes on and why I love to dance so much.
It’s the perfect way to end the show—with a new beginning.
Always remember . . . You will live. You will love. You will dance again.
TRUE LOVE
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IT WOULD BE easy to look back on those years leading up to the divorce and think, Oh, this is a really sad story. That was so hard. But I don’t feel that way anymore. Now when I look back, I feel something completely different . . . pride. For so many years, when I was in situations that were bad for me, I was afraid to leave them. Then, somehow, I finally found that little speck of love inside myself that said, “Hey, you deserve better.” And I actually did something about it, as scary as that was.
I’m proud that now I can make better choices for myself and for my kids. That finally, after forty years, I was able to understand what I was doing wrong. Proud that once I got okay with the fact that being just me was enough, I actually became a better version of myself—as a person and even as a performer. At first, I felt frustrated that it had taken me so long to figure it out. But then I ran across this quote from Charlie Chaplin:
As I began to love myself, I freed myself of anything that is no good for me—food, people, things, situations, and everything that drew me down and away from myself
. At first I called this attitude a healthy egoism. Today I know it as love of oneself.
That quote is from April 16, 1959—the day Charlie Chaplin turned seventy. So, I guess in some ways, I’m ahead of the game, right?
And yet . . . the truth is, I’m still a work in progress. I’m still learning. When you’ve been doing things a certain way for your whole life, you can’t suddenly behave in a different way overnight. It takes time. You have to start practicing it, and little by little you keep practicing, and eventually it becomes second nature. We all second-guess ourselves, doubt our own instincts, and forget to love ourselves—especially women.
As women, we almost never give ourselves enough credit for what we’re capable of, for what we endure and how giving we are. During the tour, I would look at all the amazing, beautiful women in the audience, and I wanted to pull them all into an embrace, to tell each one, You’re great. Trust yourself. Love yourself. The emotion was overwhelming at times, especially in those countries where women aren’t held in the same esteem as men. I wanted to open their hearts and pour the love right in.
Part of loving yourself is about forgiving yourself—which is something I’ve always struggled with. Being ambitious, being a perfectionist, means I’ve spent my life beating myself up for not being good enough, or for screwing something up. It took a long time, but I finally figured out that I wouldn’t have half the instincts or insights I’ve had as an artist over the years if not for those screwups. It’s the messy parts that make us human, so we should embrace them too —pat ourselves on the back for getting through them rather than being angry for having gotten into them in the first place. Because loving yourself is ultimately about self-acceptance, about embracing every part of who you are. And that’s never just one thing. For example, when it comes to my music, I have never been about one thing: I can make a booty-bopping record that makes you want to dance all night and I can also create an emotional heartfelt ballad that makes you contemplate life and love in all its complexity. I’ve always been pop, but I’ve been hip-hop too, I’ve been R&B, I’ve been Latin, I’ve been ballads . . . and I feel very comfortable in every one of those places. Why limit myself? I realize that you have to be real, you have to be as honest as you can be and not worry about judgment or criticism. I have to accept all of that and I have to love all of that because that’s what being a true artist is about: knowing yourself, accepting it all, and sharing it with others. And that’s what I work on every day.
Even though I still have a ways to go, my family and friends tell me they can see the difference. Benny even jokes about it with me—if I disagree with him about something, or stand up for myself, he’ll say, “Okay, okay, I get it. You’re loving yourself!”
He teases me, but then he has moments where he’ll say, “You know, Jennifer, you’re like a different person now. You make different decisions; you don’t stand for the injustices anymore.” And he’s right. I don’t. I’m quicker to stand up for myself, to push back if someone is treating me in a way I
Sometimes you have to explore the darkness to get to the light and get back to who you are.
don’t like. I’ve always pushed back if I see someone else being mistreated, but it took me decades to figure out how to push back for myself.
But as I’ve been reminded, a lot of people never figure it out at all. We all know someone who’s had their hopes and dreams and belief in love destroyed because they couldn’t figure out how to value themselves. “You did it,” Benny says. “Even though it hurt so bad while you were doing it, you still did it.”
My life now might not be how I always envisioned it, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t great. If it weren’t for this tour, this time, these kids, that marriage, I would never be where I am today, which is the best place I’ve ever been in my life.
I found that same girl again. Sometimes you have to explore the darkness to get to the light and get back to who you are.
That’s the whole message of the Dance Again tour, of course: We can survive anything, if we just keep on going.
This road of healing and rediscovery has been a long one, and it was much more difficult than anything I’ve ever done. It’s taken me to some real emotional lows. But the view from the other side was worth the heartache.
Like Louise taught me, I keep dancing. I may not be getting all the steps right yet, but I’m dancing my heart out. I am the woman I’ve always wanted to be because for the first time I can truly say that yes, I love myself. That’s the key. That’s the greatest love of all, the one that matters most, the one that Max and Emme taught me all about.
That’s TRUE LOVE.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MUCH LIKE THE year I went on tour, writing this book has been another incredible journey—one that could have never happened without the love and support of so many people who have helped me along the way.
First off, I would like to thank my family: Mommy, Daddy, Leslie, and Lynda, thank you for supporting me all these years and for being the loving family you have always been. I could have never gotten to where I am without you and I love you so much. To my cousins Tania, Darci, and Tiana; and to my Titi Rose—thank you for being there every step of the way.
Thank you to Benny Medina, my manager and friend for over fifteen years who has been my partner in every new adventure I embark on and writing this book was no exception. Your wise words and comments made every page of this book even better and I am so grateful to have you in my life.
Thanks to Raymond Garcia, my publisher, for your dedication, enthusiasm, and unfaltering belief in this book, even when I had my doubts. Writing this book has been one of the most gratifying and enlightening experiences of my life, and I would have never done it if it hadn’t been for you. Thanks to Andrea Montejo for your editorial support during our “booking” sessions and for helping me cut, paste, and rewrite until it felt just right. Thanks to everyone else at Penguin who helped make this book a reality: Jennifer Schuster for your editorial direction, Kim Suarez for photo editing, Matthias for the cover photo, Pauline Neuwirth for the beautiful interior design, and Anthony Ramondo for designing the cover.
Thank you to Marc Anthony, Leah, Elaine, Loren, Ana, Kevin, and all of my close friends for reading the first drafts of this book and giving me your precious feedback and comments. Thank you to my dear friend Ana Carballosa, to whom we owe the beautiful photos that truly bring this book to life.
Thanks to my personal team: Debbi Izzard, Day Ryan, my home team in LA and NY; my team at Nuyorican Productions, JLE, and the Medina Co.; Kevin Huvane and all of my agents at CAA; my attorneys; business partners; and of course to my loving fans . . . I appreciate you all.
And last, but not least, thanks to my beautiful babies, Max and Emme, for being the light of my life, the reason for everything I do, and for being exactly who you are. Mama loves you very much.
PERMISSIONS
NEVER GONNA GIVE UP
Words and Music by MICHELLE BELL, PETER KEUSCH, and JENNIFER LOPEZ
© 2007 120 MUSIC PUBLISHING, UNIVERSAL MUSIC CORP. and ELLEGANZA MUSIC PUBLISHING and NUYORICAN PUBLISHING
All rights for 120 MUSIC PUBLISHING Administered by KOBALT MUSIC PUBLISHING AMERICA, INC.
All rights for ELLEGANZA MUSIC PUBLISHING Controlled and Administered by UNIVERSAL MUSIC CORP.
All rights for NUYORICAN PUBLISHING Administered by SONY/ATV MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC.
All Rights Reserved.
Used by Permission of HAL LEONARD CORPORATION.
WAITING FOR TONIGHT
Written by MARIA CHRISTENSEN, MICHAEL GARVIN, PHIL TEMPLE
Published by Sweet Woo Music (SESAC), VMG Notation Songs (SESAC), Michael Garvin Music (BMI), VMG Notation Worldwide (BMI), Soulspin Music (ASCAP), VMG Notation Copyrights (ASCAP)
Administered by Wixen Music Publishing, Inc.
Used by Permission of Wixen Music Publishing, Inc.
© 1999
I’M INTO YOU
Words and Music by DWAYNE CARTE
R, TOR ERIK HERMANSEN, MIKKEL ERIKSEN and TAIO CRUZ
© 2011 WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP., YOUNG MONEY PUBLISHING, INC.,
EMI MUSIC PUBLISHING LTD and KOBALT SONGS MUSIC PUBLISHING
All rights on behalf of itself and YOUNG MONEY PUBLISHING INC.
Administered by WARNER-TAMERLANE PUBLISHING CORP.
All rights for EMI MUSIC PUBLISHING LTD Administered by SONY/ATV MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC.
All rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured. Used by Permission.
Used by Permission of ALFRED MUSIC
Reprinted by Permission of HAL LEONARD CORPORATION.
GET RIGHT
Words and Music by RICHARD HARRISON, JAMES BROWN and USHER RAYMOND
- contains a sample from “Soul Power ‘74” by James Brown
© 2005 DYNATONE PUBLISHING COMPANY, EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC., EMI APRIL MUSIC INC. and UR-IV MUSIC
All rights for EMI APRIL MUSIC INC., EMI BLACKWOOD MUSIC INC., and UR-IV MUSIC Administered by SONY/ATV MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC.
All rights for DYNATONE PUBLISHING COMPANY Controlled and Administered by UNICHAPPELL MUSIC INC.
All Rights Reserved. International Copyright Secured. Used by Permission.
Used by Permission of ALFRED MUSIC
Reprinted by Permission of HAL LEONARD CORPORATION.
LOVE DON’T COST A THING
Words and Music by DAMON SHARPE, GREG LAWSON, GEORGETTE FRANKLIN, JEREMY MONROE and AMILLE HARRIS
True Love Deluxe Page 12