After I danced, I waited outside with the rest of the girls, expecting someone to come out and tell us to either leave or prepare for the next round. Instead, someone came out and said a list had been posted. Everyone was either really good or really bad. You either had your certificate or you were out. While everyone was freaking out around me, surging for the list, I sat there thinking about the years of stress fractures and no pizza or brownies or going-out nights. I had sacrificed a lot to be a ballerina. Now, for the first time in my life, I was getting scared, because a lot of girls who’d sacrificed and slaved for the same goal were seeing that their best wasn’t good enough, and it was heartbreaking.
As the group thinned, I made my way forward and saw my name on a sheet of paper. Congratulations, it said in German, you have passed. No need to do the rest of the segments as the judges could see through your classical routine that you have all the technical work to perform any of them. Best of luck. Please allow a few days for your certificate. I drove home on cloud nine and ate a cookie to celebrate. When my dad pulled up in the driveway, I ran out and jumped into his arms like a four-year-old. He and Mama were so happy for me. They’d sacrificed for this, too. The certification would keep me in Germany as a professional dancer if I wanted that, but I knew I could make better money in Cairo, and when I was done with Cairo, I’d be able to go anywhere in the world and teach. The dancer’s diet is sort of symbolic: As a ballerina, I’d be killing my hunger with tomato juice and coffee, carrots in my pockets at all times, in order to stay stick thin. As a belly dancer, I’d be making bank and eating baklava, trying to maintain an extra fifteen pounds. No brainer.
Prince called that night, and I told him the whole saga.
“This is big,” I told him. “Now I can go anywhere as a dancer. I can do anything.”
I’d filmed myself practicing all three components of the exam, and unlike the German judges, he wanted to see them all, plus the magical flamenco moment and everything else I was doing. He loved the classical and belly dance best. The music he was sending me was more and more in sync with the rhythm I could dance to, and I started seeing the classical dance moves he was instinctively doing onstage. Entrechat quatre—a classical ballet term meaning “interweaving” or “braiding”—is when a dancer jumps up, exchanging feet quickly, front back front back. When I noticed him doing that, I said, “Hey, that’s ballet! Where did you get that?”
“Baryshnikov,” he shrugged. No big deal.
Before graduation, I made a short trip over to the States to visit Jan at the University of Maryland. She was in her element, soaking up college life, hanging out with a nice crowd, and working as a DJ and standup comic. But I knew this wasn’t for me. I didn’t even bother taking my SATs. In May 1991, I graduated from high school, seventeen going on thirty. I was a lot more grown up than many adults I’ve known in my life. I’d been running my own business in a pretty big way for several years, traveled all over the world, and studied my craft with diligence and self-discipline. I had done a lot, seen a lot, and been through some pretty intense life experiences.
Legally, however, I was still a minor. Prince seemed to operate on a plane of existence where age didn’t matter. He always said he didn’t count birthdays because he didn’t count days at all, and then he’d add with a sly smile, “That’s why I look the same as I did ten years ago.” His legal team was not so existential about it. Prince wanted me near, but since I was just seventeen and a half, they drew up a power of attorney document, making Prince my legal guardian for six months. After that, I’d be eighteen, a legal adult. Meanwhile, the document with my father’s signature allowed me to travel by myself to LA and Minnesota, work on film and recording projects, and participate in performances at all hours of the day or night. The agreement was pretty open as to what these projects and performances might be, but Prince got on the phone with Daddy and told him, “She’ll be safe. You can trust me.”
“I know where to find you,” said Daddy, and he wasn’t completely kidding, but he and Mama had faith in my ability to keep my head on straight. They knew that the opportunity to work with Prince could be a game changer for my career.
I was completely oblivious to all this at the time. This document came as a complete surprise to me just a few weeks ago. Blew my mind a little, to be honest. But maybe it does explain, in part, how protective Prince was in those days. He was careful not to get my hopes up or encourage any expectations on my part. The first time he flew me to LA, he’d mentioned he was doing a music video for “Diamonds and Pearls,” but I thought I was just going to be there to hang out like we usually did. That was exciting enough for me. As I flew into LAX from Germany, I remembered flying in for That’s Incredible!, seeing the Hollywood sign for the first time, knowing with that hazy sixth sense, I’ll be back.
Prince’s security people met me at the airport and said, “Hey, Martha.”
“What? Why are you calling me Martha?”
“You’re Martha George,” they told me. “He wants you on this video, but if they find out you’re seventeen, you can’t do it. Your dad said it’s okay, but there’s a union thing and paperwork, so… you’re Martha.”