Ernestine and her friends were talking in the living room when, suddenly, all eyes turned toward the doorway. For there, gyrating furiously and apparently uncontrollably, was Ernestine's small daughter. Something was wrong.
One of the house guests asked anxiously, “Is she alright?”
Ernestine gave a weak smile and shook her head. “She’s just showing off,” she said.
But she was not showing off. The child protested that she was dancing, and yet, unappreciated as always—or so it seemed to her. The scolded youngster chewed her lip and retreated to her room, where she contemplated the cause of all her trouble.
It was her big sister, Barbara Jean.
Oh, Barbara Jean was perfect. The perfect sister. The perfect everything. The smart one, with the long, pretty hair and the oh-so-beautiful face. If only the little girl could just hate Barbara Jean, it might be easier somehow. And yet, big sister was so very lovable that not even her jealous sibling could conjure up anything more than a little resentment, and a lot of envy.
Mother and Daddy liked Barbara Jean best—of that, the child was certain. If only there was some way to get her parents to notice her for a change.
Then she remembered the song. She had heard it on the radio; her parents seemed to like it a lot. Encouraged by the prospect of finally winning over her mother and the guests, the youngster wiped away a tear of disappointment with the back of her hand. She marched back to the living room and, poised in the doorway once more, gave out with a most dramatic version of the song they’d been hearing on the radio: Your Cheatin’ Heart.
Flash forward four decades.
Roberta Eugene, the elder sister, had accomplished everything her family ever imagined she would, and more. She became a doctor, then a medical professor. Finally, she became the first African-American woman ever to head a United States medical school: Ohio University's College of Osteopathic Medicine.
But something came of her younger sister's envy, too. More specifically, it came from the little girl's determination to compete for standing in the doorway of the family living room some forty years ago. Believing that no matter how long she lived she would never be as pretty, never be as smart, and never be as popular as her big sister, that child made a desperate bid for her own mother's admiration.
Her singing of Your Cheatin’ Heart held the house guests spellbound. The audience was enthralled. And that was the first enthralled audience of many, many more to come.
For once upon a time, in apartment 23 at 5736 Antoine Street in Detroit, there lived a youngster who made up her mind that she would be noticed. Gladly, she would have settled for just being pretty like Barbara Jean, or intelligent like Barbara Jean, or talented like Barbara Jean.
But she grew up to be all of those things: beautiful, intelligent, and talented.
And one more thing: the supreme, unchallenged Queen of Motown—Diana Ross.
Now you know the rest of the story.
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