There are few events that link millions of people together. We as a country and all across the world have all experienced our own personal share of pain and sorrow. We probably have all lost someone who was close to us, but to us only. Whose life was only celebrated by a small select group of people, for example, the death of a family member, a relative, a neighbor, a friend, or even a co-worker. And when that loved one died perhaps a few hundred people grieved.
We have also in our own right felt a personal loss when a public figure of great magnitude has died. But usually that person’s demise fell within a certain genre; whether it was based on social status, political status, ethnicity, musical style, etc.
But on June 25, 2009 shortly after hearing of the death of Charlie’s Angel, Farrah Fawcett, the world simultaneously grieved together all at once and was silent when the KING OF POP spirit’s descended above the Earth.
Years ago, I remember watching a television program celebrating the life of Elvis, (I was a young girl when he died and didn’t understand the impact at the time). So as I was watching this broadcast the thought crossed my mind what would the impact if Michael Jackson died. And then I immediately dismissed the thought. I realized that my mind was just relating Michael to Elvis because of their enormous popularity that transcended race, creed, and culture.
Moreover, I just never thought that it would actually happen. I just could not fathom the thought of his death. Even though I know that all people die, I simply could not imagine the King of Pop’s departure. I don’t know why, but I just thought that he would keep reinventing himself, and continue to come back out on top.
Many of my first recollections of music began with Michael and his brothers. Me and my classmates chanted to the tune of ABC as we jumped rope and played other childhood games. And then I vividly recall being mesmerized as I often enjoyed watching the Jackson Five perform on Soul Train and American Bandstand. I remember how my Uncle Maurice (two years my senior) would dance in the family room spinning around and doing the splits entertaining my family and visitors at holidays.
When I was a preteen I took modern dance classes and at a dance recital I danced to Don’t Stop until You Get Enough. But somewhere along the line, my peers got enough and moved on to Rick James, Prince, Ray Parker Jr, Luther Vandross, and Zapp. Jermaine had married into the Gordy family, and the Jacksons were no longer that cute little group of brothers that my peers and I grew up listening to.
But while my classmates and I were living the typical teenage life of football games, dances, etc., Michael refused to stop. And then suddenly… there was an immersion of a young man who reinvented himself. He arose into this untouchable musical icon and then the entire world took notice and recognized Michael Jackson as a rare talent, a gifted performer, the King of Pop.
Some talents can sing, but they cannot dance, or if they can dance, they don’t have stage presence, but Michael had it all; in just one word; phenomenal.
He found himself and suddenly we embraced him all over again, and not only the black culture, but the entire world. He was put on a pedestal that reached the sky. He was dancing with a glass slipper and that glass broke, because the pedestal was just too much for him or anyone to maintain. And when the glass broke, so did his heart, piece by piece. Michael effortlessly tried to reinvent himself to reach the next level, but it was “Too high to get over, too low to get under”, he was stuck in the middle, and the pain was thunder.”
Yes, I am not denying Michael was eccentric, but did we not put him there? We the thirsty blood sucking so called fans. Yes, we are fans, fanatics, always searching for something new, always wanting to top or outdo each other and in turn expecting that from the people that entertain us. But when those entertainers go home to their place of residence, their solitude, they are human just like us. Often we forget this. We think that actors, singers, musicians, etc. exist in a realm outside of the norm. But when you discard the mansions, the cars, and the lifestyle, underneath it all is still a man or woman, boy or girl, who cries, bleeds, and dies just like we do.
Fans like to praise celebrities when they do well, but when they mess up we want to not only criticize, but dissect each mistake as if we were performing surgery. But when you do well at work or school, you also like the accolades, and when you mess up, you don’t want criticism, you say what Michael sang, Just Leave Me Alone.
Stop and think for a minute, we all have places where we feel the most comfortable, safe, at home. It may be in your favorite chair, your chaise, behind the seat of your sports car, or simply surrounded by your family. But what if the only place you felt safe was on stage? Can you imagine, if your security was based in solely in performing? And then not performing for years, what that might do to you? What it did to Michael?
Mozart was supposedly eccentric but today, we embrace his music and not his odd behavior. So as cliché as it may sound please look at the Man in the Mirror before you judge him and remember Michael Jackson for the true talent that he was, his music and talent deserves it, for he was BAD.
By Veniece Wesson All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in any form by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
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