Free True You by Janet Jackson

falling short while following someone else’s agenda is frustrating and even infuriating. Falling short while following your own instincts is another matter. I could live with that. I could also see that, as I became more of an artist, my art needed to be self-reflective. I always had my own thoughts and ideas. But was I ready to put those things into songs or, better yet, into a concept album?
    I thought so—but could I really step out and be myself? Could I be that brave, and that vulnerable?

    My other fathers, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis.

Control
    A t nineteen, I felt the need to take control of my life. I moved to Minneapolis to make the album
Control
, and everything changed. It was a watershed moment; my life was never the same again. The move had to be made, but it took everything I had to find the courage to do so. Yet it was exciting as well. I had admired producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis for a long time. Wehad seen each other at different award shows and talked. I loved the music they were making and knew I wanted to work with them.
    I was at an emotional dead end, however. Up until then, I’d depended on an authority that I recognized and respected. But I had also decided that the authority did not have the right answers. Remember, I had been an obedient child and was an obedient teen. So to figure out the next move on my own—and not on the basis of what others were saying—was scary.
    I knew that I was leaving a big part of my childhood behind in moving to Minneapolis. I was losing the main connection to my father, which was about business, work, and career. Now I realized that to move forward, I had to start thinking for myself. I had to figure out where I was and where I wanted to go. I not only had to deal with feelings I had previously suppressed, but also had to put those feelings into lyrics and melodies. I wanted to write, not out of obligation, but out of passion. That meant identifying myself as my own person.
    In short, I had to move on.
    The first thing I felt was vulnerability. I felt unprotected. My father is a strong man, and whatever differences I may have had with his management style, I had been comforted by his strength.
    “You’re strong,” said Jimmy Jam, who was producing the record with Terry Lewis. “You’re stronger than you think you are.”
    The move to Minneapolis tested that strength. I was happy to be pushed by Jimmy and Terry. I was also able to push myself.
    On one level, for all my show business experience, I had been brought up and sheltered in the suburbs of Los Angeles. In Minneapolis, I encountered a whole set of new challenges. Some were not pleasant. At one point, I was stalked by a group of guys on the street.I had been heading somewhere when I noticed them following me. They began to taunt me and I began to feel nervous. But instead of running, I turned and faced them. I backed them down. I had wanted to run, but something inside me wouldn’t let me do that. I had to confront them. It was a matter of self-respect and self-defense.
    Those were the emotions I put into “Nasty” and “What Have You Done for Me Lately,” key parts of the suite of songs that became
Control
.
    Through Jimmy, Terry, and the other people working on the record, I made new friends in Minneapolis. One boy was a teenager, as I was, and he saw me as a sister. I liked him a lot. We’d have lunch together and sometimes walk through one of the malls.
    I’ll call him Todd. He was in his first year of college and was studying dance. He had recently gotten engaged to a girl back in his hometown. He described her as being “assertive.”
    “You mean sexually?” I asked.
    “Yes,” he answered.
    “And that makes you uncomfortable?”
    “I’d rather wait.”
    “Nothing wrong with that.”
    “She thinks there is. She says this is the move I have to make to prove that I love her and care.”
    “And when she tells you that, what do you say?”
    “That I’m not ready.”
    “That