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March 2020 | Rolling Stone | 55
Orleans, as well as her parents. When Norma-
ni would come home from 5H tours, life was
moving forward without her. She missed out
on prom and college, both of which her close
friends experienced together. “I felt left out of
some of those conversations,” she says, “and
I couldn’t relate to the extent that they could
because I wasn’t living that.”
For Normani, there was not much room for
mental recovery on the road, especially while
dealing with racist trolls. During the ordeal,
Cabello came to her defense, but Fifth Harmony
were ill-equipped to handle the situation. Nor-
mani describes it as “them not knowing how to
be there for me the way that I needed it because
it wasn’t their own experience, and because
when they look at me they don’t see me.”
Fifth Harmony went the same way as most
pop vocal groups: Cabello had been primed for
solo success, teaming up with Shawn Mendes
and Machine Gun Kelly for duets. In late 2016,
after four and a half years as a quintet, Fifth Har-
mony announced Cabello’s departure, saying
they had been informed she was leaving through
her representatives.
In Cabello’s absence, however, Normani
seemed to become the group’s de facto leader,
dominating the solos and choreography. Her
onstage confidence came to the forefront and
caught the attention of both Tunji Balogun, who
launched RCA’s Keep Cool imprint with her as
the lead artist, and manager Brandon Silver-
stein, who began working with her in late 2017.
“Whenever I would see [Fifth Harmony’s]
videos or performances, she always stood out
to me,” Balogun says. He had met her through
Khalid and Silverstein, but wasn’t sure he would
be able to sign her because of 5H’s contract
with a different label. Still, Balogun wanted her
involved with “Love Lies,” as did Khalid, her
duet partner on the song. Both were fans of her
“star energy.”
Fifth Harmony released one more record to-
gether, then went on “indefinite hiatus.” Cabello
became the first member to release an album
and have a hit. Since then, every member has
released solo music, to varying degrees of suc-
cess. Normani is diplomatic when discussing the
group, but she has kept a healthy distance from
social media in the years since her trau matic
bout of bullying. “I try not to take it personal,
even though sometimes it does get personal,”
she says. “I try my best not to say anything be-
cause nobody’s opinion is going to dictate where
I’m going or what I’m going to do. Only I have
the control to do that.”
O
N THE SUNDAY of the Grammy
awards, a couple of hours before
Normani and I are supposed to meet
for lunch, Kobe Bryant’s helicopter
crashes 18 miles away. Normani is a basketball
fan who loved Kobe. Like the rest of Los Angeles,
she’s devastated and postpones our meeting by
a few hours. When we finally grab dinner at the
vegan restaurant Gracias Madre, there’s a make-
shift shrine in front, complete with candles and a
box where patrons can drop in notes for Bryant.
Like many 23-year-olds, Normani is just
beginning to learn how to cope with death. Her
grandma on her dad’s side died a year before,
and Kobe’s death resurfaced some of those
tricky feelings. “I’m still trying to figure out
how to move forward even when things like this
happen,” she says.
A bigger challenge, these days, is just learning
to be vulnerable. Her competitive dance and
gymnastics background primed her for a life of
performing through pain with a smile on her
face. Even when she was bullied, she didn’t take
time off work. Now, though, she’s trying to figure
out how to go easy on herself and take her time.
When Normani posed for a photo with Janet
Jackson last year, Jackson shared some advice.
“I’m not going to say verbatim,” Normani says,
“but she was telling me to be me first before I’m
anything else. I can do whatever I want to do.
You can have a super pop record with a super
R&B record.”
Normani has been thinking about genres a
lot lately, especially as she inches closer to the
end of her album. She’s tired of “pop” being an
insult. “It’s almost like [pop] becomes a negative
when it’s a black girl that looks like me, singing
the records that I choose to sing because I loved
them. Let’s celebrate the fact that I’m able to
have a record with Sam Smith while also having
a record with 6lack!” Just an hour before din-
ner, she watched Lizzo take home a Grammy in
a pop category, which she finds inspiring.
In the studio, she hasn’t felt constrained by
either genre, working with everyone from recent
pop songwriting heavyweights like Victoria
Monét and Tayla Parx (both known for their
work with Grande) to experimental R&B produc-
ers like Joel Compass (FKA Twigs, Jorja Smith).
“I was trying to wrap my mind around it, feeling
the responsibility and the pressure like I owe it
to both sides,” she says. “Just now I’m coming
to the realization I don’t owe anybody as much
as I owe to myself first. I’m the one that has to
perform these records for the rest of my life.”
Normani wants the album to be a confessional
statement, less focused on hits and more on the
longevity of her career. “I feel like I’m not the
most open person,” she admits. In learning how
to open up, she wants to write songs that con-
nect on a deeper level with a fandom that has
grown up with her. “I want every girl out there
to feel like I’m going through the same thing.”
As for those Grammys across town, Normani
isn’t too concerned about taking one of the
golden gramophones home. She’s thrilled for
friends like Lizzo and Rosalía, but the Christian
side of her calls the awards “materialistic.” She’s
survived the good, bad, and ugly of the industry,
and being where she’s at now is enough of a
reward for her.
“Oh, I’ve seen the ugly,” she says with a smile.
“Even with those things, it amazes me how I
bounce back. I didn’t know that I was as strong
as I’ve been.”
Normani
(second from
left) and Cabello
(center) in Fifth
Harmony, 2013