Later on in eighth grade, as my inner homo-thug blossomed, my friend Tiffany and I would watch Sister Act 2 together via house phone, pausing and playing our VCRs so we could be at the exact-same part. That’s probably why watching “Joyful, Joyful” or two-stepping to Hi-Five’s regret-filled “Never Should Have Let You Go” moisturizes my spirit a little even in the ashiest of times. Shoutout to staying power of blackness.

I occasionally remind myself that if I ever run into Whoopi, while thanking her for her stellar work as Sister Mary Clarence, I must fight the urge to tell her that word on the street is that she’s a Las Vegas showgirl so she can tell me, as she told dude from City High at the end of the film after a dramatic pause, that she is not now, nor has she ever been, a “Las Vegas showgirl,” but that she is ... a headliner, and I can cry inside. No, I won’t do that.