Excerpt from : "GETTING BACK TO MY ME"

This Is Norwood

You look like a monster. There is something very dark and demonic about the way you look.

This message was posted on a blog about a reality show in which I had appeared, High Maintenance 90210. This posting was
about me. Normally, I'm not one to give a rat's ass about what people think or say about me. But there was something in
these words that hit home somewhere deep inside. I knew that amid these cruel and mean-spirited words was some truth.

After reading this, I went upstairs to the bathroom of my master bedroom and stared in my mirror for at least 10
minutes. Tears uncontrollably began rolling down my face. He was right! The face staring back was indeed a creation of
Satan. I had allowed him to confuse me and get me to give him the power in an attempt to destroy what God gave me!

For many years, I had convinced myself that the plastic surgery that I was having was necessary. I didn't like
my nose and it needed changing. But that first nose job was botched. It was done in Germany. The doctor cut off the tip of
my nose and made it too short. I had to have cartilage removed from my right ear in order to rebuild my nose, which required
yet another surgery.

Then I thought, "I would like a cleft chin," and I got an implant. Then I wondered what I would look like with
cheekbones. Then I wanted to do something with my eyes. I was born with sleepy-looking eyes, and I thought I would change
them as well.

It wasn't vanity. It was sickness. What I was really doing was trying not to look like me.

When I was a little boy, people used to coo and fawn over me and tell me how adorable I was. I was even compared
to Michael Jackson, little Michael, the cute brother from the Jackson Five. Later on in life, I was even compared to him
after my surgeries!

How ironic! We both were told we had the cutest face, and then we both went on to destroy our looks. For me,
the attention turned ugly when an older cousin decided that I was so cute that needed to have me. He would call me "pretty
boy" when he would molest and later rape me.

I associated that cuteness with something horrible that I needed to run away from. I thought " and I just came
to this conclusion consciously when I was in my early twenties " that if I didn't look like me, I wouldn't have any more
problems, unwanted attention and abuse.

I thought that if I could change my face, I could destroy all of those bad feelings that I grew up with. But
what I ended up doing was giving Satan a foothold in my life.

All of that changing my face was a way of masking what was really going on inside of me. And in so doing, I was
erasing what God had given me. I traded in a blessing for a curse and this person who commented on this blog " who I'm sure
was online commenting from a nasty place to inflict pain " actually rescued me. He saw me, and he made me see myself for the
first time in a long time.

I immediately made an appointment with a reconstructive surgeon. Unlike a plastic surgeon, a reconstructive
surgeon is an expert in restoring faces disfigured due to fire, terrible accidents, etc. Surely, my face was disfigured and
needed restoring.

I told him, "Please put my face back to the way it was."

I started a years-long journey into rebuilding the nose God gave me, taking out the cleft chin and cheek
implants, and "getting back to my me."

I was on a critical new journey of fixing my inside and restoring my soul. Now my face had to match what was
happening inside. I wanted people to see not this torn, tortured soul, but the real me " the man full of joy, hope, love and
inspiration. I wanted them to see Norwood.

Writing this book is a tool for cleansing, personal growth, and being set free. To this day, I have scars around
my eyes from yet another botched surgery, and I use make up to cover them.

By the time this book is published, I will no longer be covering my scars. They now represent everything I love
about me and what I went through to become the man I have fought to be. They can be a reminder and a testament to anyone who
sees me that God is real, and He can bring you through your darkest hour!

I am Norwood Berry Young. Some of you may know me from my stint on Star Search in the 1980's. Others may know me as the
lead singer of the legendary jazz group Pieces Of A Dream or as a solo artist with quite a few successful gold albums.

Many more people know me as the man with the house in Hancock Park, Los Angeles, with the statues of
Michelangelos' David lining the driveway. Some may know me for the pink and blue Maltese dogs I once owned.

You may have seen me on the reality show High Maintenance 90210. I'm definitely a fixture on the red carpets of
movie premieres and other high-profile events.

But a couple of hundred thousand people have read about me in a book by Karrine Steffans called The Vixen
Diaries. It was her inclusion of me in her book that actually motivated me to finally tell my story.

The first chapter of The Vixen Diaries is entitled "A Man Called Norwood", and it's about me. When Karrine
called me and told me that she was including me in her book, I was puzzled.

I couldn't understand what she could possibly write about me or why. I now believe that in her twisted,
delusional mind she believed she was giving me light and publicity, which I did not need " at least not in this way. By
putting me in her book, I guess she felt that she was doing me a favor.

But her true motivation is that she thought it would gain her credibility. All I felt in seeing my name in her
book was betrayal and, initially, rage.

Here was a woman whom I had considered a friend, who took a moment " a very private and personal moment " and
wrote about it. The level of details with which she described what I wore, what I ate at dinner, the inside of my home,
right down to the art I had on my walls, told me that perhaps she was planning on writing about me from the day she met me.

Who can remember exactly what someone ate for dinner months later? Well, if you're planning on writing a book, I
guess you take good notes and detail everything for later reference. That is clearly not friendship.

But what set me off is the mention of my mother. Karrine put my mother's name in that book! As if she had met
my mother or knew her or anything about her. That was a violation that I will not forge. I am very, very protective of my
mom. And I don't take kindly to someone using her name in vain. Period.

Karrine could have said anything she wanted about me (which she did), but she needed to leave my mother out of
it. Karrine claims to be an expert on the black man. Well, she should have known rule number 1 " never talk about his
mother! (Obviously, her only true expertise is between his legs!)

My first thought was how I was going to get her back. I wanted to destroy her, hit her where she lives. But
when I reached out to writer Karen Hunter - who is now (since doing this book) my dear friend and sister in Christ " about
working with me on this book, her prerequisite was that this book not be about getting revenge on Karrine.

Believe me, I had more than enough ammunition " even for a person as shameless and seemingly unconcerned with
what people think about her as Karrine appears to be. I had to find another way to deal with what I was feeling, so I
decided that this was an opportunity to really share and open up about myself, this man called Norwood. It was my chance to
look in the mirror and really tell the world what I see from the inside out and how I got here.

Because my story and my journey aren't just for me.

I was victimized as a child by a relative. For years, I kept all of that inside " not even telling my mother,
until very recently, more than thirty years later.

I gave the devil power. In hiding the truth, I diminished myself. I found escape through music. I also found
it through plastic surgery, alcohol, sex and drugs.

Today, I know that my only source of power comes from God. Period. And no one can ever take that away from me.

So my positive response to Karrine and her book is to share my truth and my story and show how faith and the
power of God can get you through anything. And I mean anything! Even when your so-called friends betray you, God will turn
those enemies into your footstools and your inspiration to help protect the lives of others.

I'm writing this book because I know that the pain I experienced is not unique to me. There are thousands,
perhaps millions, of people (unfortunately) throughout the world who have suffered many of the same things I have. Maybe
they thought they were the only ones going through it.

I'm telling my story to let them know that they are not alone. Part of my journey has been about healing " not
just myself, but others. In telling this particular story, it is my hope that I can inspire, transform, and provide comfort
for other human beings.

I want to let people know that no matter how dark your situation may be, there is hope and you can turn it all
the way around. Because I did it.

I should be dead right now. And that's the truth. But I believe that God spared me in order that I may use my
past to be an encouragement to the future of others.

My story begins in an upper-middle-class home in the southern part of New Jersey. I was raised by two very
dynamic people. My mother was a research scientist for Johnson & Johnson, the only African-American woman in the country in
her position. As brilliant as her mind is, she was also a woman with a great talent for singing. But a singing career, she
felt, would have been frivolous. So she relegated her singing to church and her church group. Today, she is the minister of
music at her church.

My mother wanted me to be a dentist, but she raised me to know that I could be anything I put my mind to. She is
my standard for all women. She is my prototype.

My dad, Norwood Berry Young Sr., for whom I was named, was my biggest supporter and my biggest fan. He showed me
that you could do anything. He was a high-ranking executive at IBM, but he was also a local radio personality on WTTM radio
(Norwood On Sports), and he wrote treatments for game shows, organized local sports teams and mentored youth. He was my role
model for not being afraid to try to do anything.

My dad was my first manager. He was my first audience and my best critic.

"You can't just sing, you've got to entertain the people," he would say.

We would sit in his car and he would play various eight-tracks and cassettes and have me practice singing some of
his favorite doo-wop songs. It was because of the time I spent with my dad that the singing bug bit.

But it was in church " St Paul AME Zion Church " where I discovered my gift. Being able to move an entire
congregation by hitting certain notes, and seeing people's reaction, made me crave that reaction all of the time.

I was only six years old when I knew for sure I could sing, and that was also when I knew for sure that I wanted
to share my gift. That brought me joy. It was when I ignored this gift from God that my life began to turn in the wrong
direction.

My parents provided me and my two sisters with the kind of life you see on television in programs like Leave It
To Beaver and The Cosby Show. They provided us with everything a child could want, including food, clothing, shelter, and
bundles and bundles of love.

But even my parents couldn't protect me from what happened as a child.

Part of the reason why I didn't want to write this book was because I didn't want my mother to blame herself for
what happened. (My dad, who has passed on, knew what happened " I told him years later when I was in jail. His only request
after finding out if I was okay was that I not tell him who did it because he would certainly kill the perpetrator after all
of those years.) I didn't want the anger and the helplessness to eat away at my mom.

But it is because of my mom that I had to write this book. I needed to let her know that it wasn't her fault,
nor was there any way she could have known " unless I told her. And now its time that we move on and heal as a family.

This message is not just for my mom " its for a whole lot of parents and children who have experienced similar
situations. To the parents, there is only so much you can do, short of spending every waking moment with your children. To
the children, Tell! I don't care what that abuser says to you. I don't care how they threaten you. You have to tell. And
parents have to let their children know that, no matter what, you will be there right by their side. No matter what!

I didn't tell because I was scared and embarrassed. But more than that, I thought I had done something to
provoke the attacks. I thought I had done something wrong and I didn't want to tell because I was ashamed. I also didn't
want to "ruin" the family (I'll talk more about this later.)

So many things happened to me early in life " some tragic and still scarring, and others wonderful and full of God's favor"
that shaped the man that I would become.

Sixteen was a pivotal age for me.

By the age of sixteen, I was singing professionally, and I had a record deal. But by the same age, my self-worth
had been tainted by this cousin, who used to brutalize me on a regular basis and caused me to eventually equate the cause of
the abuse with the way I looked.

By the age of sixteen, I had tried my first hit of cocaine and was on my way to a life of drug abuse and
experimentation.

By the age of sixteen, I was becoming a man but was still very lost and searching.

And, finally, at the age of sixteen, the abuse stopped!

But today I am whole. I am a man who has clarity, who loves himself, who is secure and knows where he is going,
and who has a profound respect for life and a deep and abiding love of God.

In these pages, it may read as though I was a felon, a drug addict, an alcoholic, a pimp, a gambling addict, a
sexaholic, and a self-mutilator. I'm none of those things theoretically, but take a look at how Satan can manipulate
situations!

If all of those things were true, there is no reason why I should be the man I am today.

I would never wish even a portion of what I went through on anyone. But I don't regret my journey, not anymore.
There was a reason for it.

It's so sad sometimes that it's almost laughable when I think about it. Satan should have killed me when he had
the chance. Because not only am I saved from his attempted destruction, I plan on putting him on blast and helping to save a
whole bunch of lives he is out to destroy.

I survived this so that I could tell you not to keep secrets. Secrets kill and destroy. They are the only way
the devil can gain a victory over you. So in this book, I am putting it all out there. I am naked and stripped down because
it's only in that state that I can be a blessing.

In these pages, I present to you a man named Norwood - the unadulterated, unabashed, unfiltered me.