Watch Out

TERRI: When I was young, Judy Garland was an idol of mine, as was her daughter, Liza Minnelli, because she could sing and dance and act too. I was a pretty good dancer at school, so my teacher encouraged me to audition for NYU. I did and got a place, so I left my home in Ohio. When I graduated I was immediately cast in a theatre production and my career got off to a good start. Other things followed and I'd decided to stay in New York. Then, I'd been thinking about moving to LA to look for work, and that's when I got pregnant. I'd been dating Alicia's father for a while, and when I told him I wanted to keep the baby he said he had other plans — and they weren't with us. So I knew I'd have to go it alone.

I guess part of me thought that it was meant to be. I'm not saying I'm the Virgin Mary or anything, but maybe I was earmarked to be Alicia Keys's mother. I was also approaching 30 and I thought: "Why not? I can still go to auditions; I can cope." I figured if my Mum could raise nine kids, one was nothing. Of course, in between acting parts, I'd been doing regular jobs too, like waitressing and working for phone companies, but that's acting life whether you have children or not. At the time, I was temping for my best friend, who ran an agency for paralegals. When I told her that I was going to have a baby, this huge rainbow appeared. It felt like a special moment — one you never forget. I guess I could've called her Rainbow, but I called her after that friend who gave me a lot of support and became her godmother.

At the time, I had a small flat in a complex called Manhattan Plaza. It's known as "the Miracle on 42nd Street" because it's made up of two blocks housing people who mainly work in the performing arts. It was geared towards the fact that acting's a fickle industry and jobs are often low-paid, so rents were subsidised by the government and calculated according to income. That was a huge reassurance for me.

But sure, I had to work hard to keep everything going. Luckily, there was a baby-sitter on our floor and we had a preschool nursery and playground in the complex. As far as her having a white mother, sure, I'd get the odd person asking me who her mum was, as if I was her baby-sitter, but I never heard Alicia say as a child that she had problems. There was one time when we were visiting our cousins in Ohio and some mean-spirited people said something, but Alicia's response was: "Is my colour a problem for you?" Anyhow, I was pretty proactive on that front. I've always said: "Beauty is as beauty does. That's the bottom line."

Although my family was back in Ohio, one thing Alicia's father did do when she was quite young was introduce me to his parents, who lived in Long Island. His mother was married to an Italian called Michael, but he wasn't his father. So in a way she'd been a single parent too. When Alicia first met Michael, he said she should call him Grandfather, but when Alicia tried to repeat the word, the only thing that came out was "Fafa". So that wonderful name stuck. He was such a darling and, together with her Nana, we had a very special relationship.

They were always there for us and Alicia often stayed with them. Sadly, we lost Fafa to cancer a few years ago, but Nana remains one of my best friends.

My own mother would come and stay if I had to work out of town. She was a pianist and a singer and encouraged Alicia's interest in music. When she was seven, Alicia started taking classical piano lessons. She studied under the Suzuki method, where the parent must be involved, so I'd go to practise with her. Then at home I'd play R&B and jazz records, so one way or another there were all kinds of musical influences. Luckily, a friend in the block was married to a piano tuner. They had at least four pianos in their apartment, and one day I was making fun of her, saying: "I think you need another piano in here, Maria." Then she said, did I want one? Of course, I said yes. "Well," she said, "if you can move that old player-piano in the corner, it's yours." I called Beethoven piano movers, and for $95 they moved it. That was Alicia's first piano, and I guess there was no stopping her after that.

Alicia often came to rehearsals and auditions with me when she was young. When she got a bit older, she went to a performing-arts school in Manhattan called Professional Performing Arts, and her love affair with music continued. But it also coincided with her independent streak and, sure, we had problems about this. I'd be voicing my discontent with "You shouldn't do that," and she'd be voicing her claims with things like "Age is just a number." It continued until I had to give up and she moved out. She kept in touch, but I was worried because she was still a girl and New York's rough. But she was okay. I never had to dig her out of jail or pick her out of the gutter.

I don't think either one of us has been able to understand what has happened to Alicia these past few years. It's been phenomenal. But people are fickle and she doesn't take anything for granted; she's wisely surrounded herself with people she knows and trusts. The thing about Alicia is that she doesn't care what other people think, or about what she's supposed to wear or how she's meant to act. What she cares about are things like showing young people that you don't have to compromise your beliefs, your religion, your body or anything else in order to be a success. She may not be a saint, but she's a good girl and she's got a good heart. She couldn't be a more wonderful gift to me.