THE MOMENT IS heirs

The boy was a hook; Brandy and Monica were the history. Their return proves the moment belongs, and always belonged, to them.

- By Shelby Stewart Photography by Myesha Evon Styling by Jason Rembert

On Brandy: Coat, Michael Kors Collection, bodysuit, Spanx, tights, Sheertex, boots, Patou, earrings, Misho, rings, David Yurman. On Monica: Jacket, Emilio Pucci, catsuit, Jean Paul Gauthier, boots, Gianvito Rossi.

They came in as bright-eyed young girls with grown voices.

Brandy Norwood from Carson, California, Monica Arnold from Atlanta. One raised in the West Coast suburbs, one straight out the Dirty South. Two different styles, two different coasts; both gifted with something the industry couldn't manufacture: presence. From the start, the world framed it as competition. Labels, magazines and fans all leaned into the rivalry—before either had dropped a second album, before they were even old enough to drink.

From the start, the machine wanted a story bigger than the music. Brandy vs. Monica; the sweet Cali girl with braids vs. the Southern spitfire with edge. It was a rivalry the culture didn’t ask for but the press fed and the labels let ride. Before the two even had time to understand themselves, the world was ready to pit them against each other.

Then came “The Boy Is Mine.” The single they recorded together in 1998 was ubiquitous—a monster hit that sat at No. 1 for 13 straight weeks, earned them their only Grammy (out of a combined 18 nominations between them) and cemented them both as icons of late ’90s R&B. Their song, borrowing its frame from Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney’s “The Girl Is Mine,” flipped the script. But let’s be clear: The boy was never the point. The real story was what it took for two teenage Black girls to stand in front of the world and sing with that much conviction, that much control. The song was a snapshot of the pressure cooker they were in.