"I used to be a slave"

Mariah Carey, can I call you Mimi now?

If you'd like to.

Who is Mimi?

Mimi is my nickname that only family members and very, very close friends use. They don't use it today anymore. I am Mimi for people who know my other side. Not the celebrity, the public person, but the real human.

So Mariah Carey is not the real you?

It's strange. I don't even know if I have a connection at all with the person Mariah Carey. My mum gave me the name Mariah Carey as a stage name because she thought I absolutely should become a singer, and I was barely. But all my friends only call me MC or Mimi and no one really calls me Mariah Carey. Really no one.

But if you want to distance yourself from the character Mariah Carey, why isn't your album called "The Emancipation of Mariah Carey"?

With Mimi, I want to show my carefree and happy side to the world. The side you don't know about Mariah Carey.

"The Emancipation of Mimi" doesn't differ very much from your earlier records: It's the usual mix of R'n'B, Pop and a bit of Hip Hop.

That's not true. I'm showing a completely different side of myself, musically as well. While working on my new album, I pushed everything aside, what they think about me, I forgot all the pressure that was put on me and had the best time of my life. The result is showing the real me.

The term "Emancipation" is usually connected with women's fight for sexual equality. Can you identify yourself with that?

Yes. But emancipation means so much more. It's about every liberation from repression and control, and also about equal rights for minorities.

Are you an emancipated woman?

Absolutely. I've appealed against many fights in my life. I had a white mother and a dark-skinned father, so I was a biracial child. We used to be poor, my parents divorced when I was 3 years old. We lived in a racist suburb, where mailboxes were flared and dogs were poisoned. That all gave me a feeling of inferiority. But that was also the grounding of my ambition: I was looking for fame because I felt inferior.

You became the most successful female singer of the 90s after being discovered by Tommy Mottola, the former head of Sony and married him in 1993.

Don't talk about that. I married a man who was 20 years older than me and who controlled my career and my whole life. I had to free myself from that situation. I couldn't even decide for myself what to wear.

After getting divorced in 1997 and leaving Sony later, your career surfaced an offset. You had a breakdown, there were rumours about checking in a clinic and suicide threats on your website. What really happened?

The truth is: Like every other human I have good and bad days. But when a star has a bad day, they have to appear on TV nonetheless. I used to be in that mill since I was 18. One day I couldn't anymore and wanted to rest. But they didn't let me. I collapsed. Physically.

Did you think about quitting the business?

No. They say I had a breakdown, but for me it was a breakthrough because it allowed me to finally say no and to show the record company that I am not a slave.

You're the biggest selling female in the world and you claim to be a slave. How does that go together?

From childhood onwards, I had low self-esteem. As I already said: biracial, poor. At 18, I got into a relationship with an older man. I got used to being controlled. I thought I had to obey. I just couldn't manage to say: I am tired, I'm going to get some sleep. Beyonce and Britney Spears at least have families who care for them and protect them.

With your movie "Glitter" you reached the low-point of your career. The "Glitter" album flopped. What went wrong?

"Glitter" was ahead of its time - today it's "in" to make 80's music. But the timing was bad - I released it around September 11, 2001. The talk shows needed something to distract from 9/11. I became a punching bag. I was so successful that they tore me down because my album was at number 2 instead of number 1. The media was laughing at me and attacked me.

With "We Belong Together" you have your first number-one song in five years. Are you relieved?

It's wonderful to have a hit again, and it's also the biggest radio hit ever in America. I really didn't expect that.

You've sold 230 Million records. Why are you producing more of them?

How can you ask that? My album shot to number one in its first week, faster than any of my earlier records in my whole career. Who would've thought?

You performed at Live 8 last weekend - surprisingly, because no one thought you were a politically committed singer.

I also didn't know if the audience would accept me. I thought they'd rather come to see Pink Floyd and The Who and not to hear such a schmaltzy ballad like "Hero".

Do you believe in the effect of that event?

I performed with a chlidren's choir from Africa. Children, whose parents have died of AIDS. When I saw their ebullient faces I realized that we were about to make poverty history at that moment. "Make Poverty History" as it says.

Your new album ends with the words "Carry me home / Carry me higher, Lord". Do you want to proselytize your fans?

No, I don't want to impose my religion on anyone. I just want to share with others what helps me. It's a sad but spiritual song. The message is Psalm 30:5. There was one night in my life which I thought would never end. A terrible time and nobody told me something like that.

(SonntagsZeitung - Mariah Daily)