Essay: The Emancipation of Mimi and JaeJae

Anyone who is a lamb—Mariah Carey fan—knows the Queen of Christmas doesn’t celebrate birthdays. She celebrates anniversaries. So, it was no surprise when Mariah announced last year that she would be performing in Las Vegas for the nineteenth anniversary of her album, “The Emancipation of Mimi”.

Anyone who knows me knows I don’t consider myself just a Mariah fan, but a friend. I not only enjoy her songs, but I also feel a deep connection to the singer’s personal journey through her music and a chance meeting.

Growing up in a white New Jersey suburb, I often faced questions about my identity, much like Mariah, who was constantly asked about her ethnicity rather than her music. I watched interviewers ask her, “What are you? Where are you from? Are you White? Black?”

When they talked about Mariah’s music, they always tried to put her in a box. Was she R&B? Soul? Pop? Hip-hop? With her five-octave range, Mariah transcended genres, collaborating with artists from Luther Vandross to Jay-Z, earning the title Songbird Supreme. Every song she released topped the charts.

In 2001, Mariah battled headlines about a supposed breakdown. She received scathing reviews for her movie “Glitter” and her appearance on MTV’s TRL Live. She spoke of the lack of independence she felt and the control her ex-husband and record label exerted over her.

Meanwhile, I felt lost, confused, helpless and hopeless. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Terrorists had flown into the World Trade Center. The U.S. was at war.

Things started to look better in 2005 for both Mariah and me. She released “The Emancipation of Mimi,” which was an homage to her nickname and the creative freedom she finally gained. Critics  at places like Rolling Stone considered it a true comeback story as she won three Grammys to add to her collection.

I was also winning. My mother was in remission, and I was crowned “Miss Midori It Girl.”

As soon as Mariah released her first single, “It’s Like That,” I was re-energized. I changed the words Mimi to JaeJae, referring to my own nickname “Jae.” Every time I heard the song, I felt like Mariah was cheering me on, “It’s a special occasion . . . JAEJAE’s emancipation . . .A cause for celebration . . . ”

Over the years, “It’s Like That” became a song I played before any big event—the way sports teams played songs to hype up a crowd. On August 31, 2018, I pressed play and listened to Mariah belt out, “’Cause it’s my night,” while I got ready in my Las Vegas hotel room at MGM Grand.

Hair curled, heels on, makeup glistening, I met my brother Aaron for our pre-Mariah concert dinner at the glamorous Mr. Chow restaurant at Caesar’s Palace. Over sumptuous noodles, we excitedly debated Mariah’s setlist.

Suddenly, I noticed Aaron’s eyes darting back and forth to the table next to us. He whispered, “That’s Bryan Tanaka.” Tanaka was not only one of Mariah’s dancers, he was also her boyfriend!

I glanced around to see if  Mariah was with Tanaka. The singer was not at the restaurant. It appeared that Tanaka was dining with family. We did not want to disturb their dinner, but as we left and passed by their table, my brother casually said, “Good luck at the show tonight.”

Tanaka smiled and asked if we were going to the concert. Beaming, I exclaimed, “Yes!” and asked if I could take a picture of him and my brother.

Aaron and I were even more excited by the surprise encounter. We jumped up and down, waving to Mariah from our front-row seats.

The beautiful singer, dressed in a long sparkly-white gown, broke into the “Touch My Body” melody, and Tanaka pulled Aaron and me onto the stage. He and several other dancers in black vests led us to a table where they wrapped colorful boas around our necks. We swayed and drank champagne while Mariah sang her sultry notes. After the song, Mariah thanked us and handed me a keepsake wineglass with the words, “I had a splash with Mariah.”

At the end of the show, my brother and I joined several other Mariah lambs for a backstage meet and greet. I shared with Mariah the parallels I felt between her life and mine—she sounded different, looked different and acted different. But the biggest connection I felt to her was her resilience. Smiling sweetly, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. That night, I went from a lamb to a friend.

As Mariah continues to celebrate the legacy of Mimi in 2025, and as I graduate with a master’s in journalism from New York University, I’ll be reflecting on her journey and my own—the transformation of JaeJae.