Dangerous was one of the first tapes I ever owned--I got it for Christmas when I was in the first grade and promptly wore it out something serious, right along with
Technotronic and Paula Abdul's
Promise of a New Day (as you might have guessed, my tastes in music have not changed drastically since then). So by the time Michael Jackson moonwalked into my realm of awareness, he had already become lighter-skinned, smaller-nosed, and finer-haired; but somehow he had been ingrained into my consciousness for years before then. Being born in the early-80s and not being a "child of" them, I was not around to experience Jackson at his popular peak of celebrity--but somehow that didn't seem to make a difference in how much his presence seemed to influence my young life and my development into a fan of quality music and the skilled movement and manipulation of the human form.
Which is why it pains me that Jackson is continually claimed (in the mass media, anyway) as belonging solely to the Babyboomers as part of his Jackson 5 days, and to GenX from his solo years. That was just one facet of Jackson's genius--he belonged to so many different kinds of people of all ages, and yes, children, because he cultivated a continuous aura of inclusion, transcending the boundaries of age, race, class and even gender to become an undefinable figurehead for anyone who has felt alone, misunderstood, ugly, ignored, or powerless and for everyone who has a pure and unadulterated love for the joy of music and the physical expression of rhythm and melody. For those of us who love to sing and love to dance even more, Jackson is the alpha and the omega, whether we realize it or not.
While clearly Jackson was and is beyond genius at breaking barriers between musical genres and racial divides, I loved him as a dancer more than anything. To watch him perform, even though I was never lucky enough to get to see him live, to me was like magic, sheer beauty and poetry, awestruck in wonder at the power and form the human body can contain in its fullest potential. Just look at how the "Thriller" dance has permeated our collective consciousness over the last 20 years, or the still jaw-dropping, mind-numbingly amazing lean from "Smooth Criminal." Looking back even at "Billie Jean" and "Beat It," on up through "Black or White" and "Remember the Time," there are so many different moves and rhythms that I recognize from late nights on the dance floor with friends that I never even realized originated from Jackson's repertoire, but again demonstrate the way his brilliance became part of our everyday existence--and all we ever did was take it for granted.
In fact, even now as preparations are put in place for his memorial service in Los Angeles, it still feels like nothing we can ever say or do as a society will ever be enough to make up for the physical and emotional torment America exacted upon Jackson throughout his sad, strange life. He was one of the only true musical geniuses America could lay claim to (sorry, y'all, but the Beatles were British and all Elvis did was co-opt black music for white consumption), and what did we do for him? We abandoned him in his darkest hours, speculated mercilessly about him and his family and his proclivities without ever even wanting to know the true facts at hand, hounded him and spewed vicious lie after lie about him in the press--the first and most painful example of tearing our celebrities down just to watch them burn in the age of media over-saturation and mean-spirited speculation. I watched Martin Bashear's hideous farce of a "documentary," and wanted to cry when I saw the cariacture Jackson was reduced to, the laughingstock and freakshow he was continually turned out to be. Looking back now after hearing of his decades of drug abuse, it is so painfully obvious that Jackson was not just a "weirdo" and a "freak" like the media wanted us to believe--he was heavily, heavily drugged and retreating further and further into a world of his own creation to escape the reality of the world that wanted nothing more than to take his seemingly endless precious gifts as one of the finest entertainers we have ever known and to break him down once and for all.
And now here it is, do we finally have what we wanted? Have we rid ourselves of the so-called pervert and hideous freakshow once and for all? Here's the thing--Michael Jackson was never once convicted of any of these alleged crimes in a court of law. He was accused, judged and tried in the court of opinion alone, and what a sham of a system of justice that turned out to me. If you were a parent and your child had indeed been molested, would you really have settled out of court? Wouldn't you want to have seen the perpetrator convicted for the world to see and locked away? Wouldn't you have wanted more justice for your child than a cash settlement? The whole thing screams extortion and it always has. But because Jackson himself never had a childhood, was never allowed to experience the freedom and playfulness that we again take for granted of our youth, as an adult he desperately grasped at any semblance of joy and innocence that was denied him so egregiously as a child. He attempted to buy happiness, and yet it was constantly denied him no matter how hard he tried or how much he spent.
If the entire world seemed to think that you wanted nothing more than to harm that which you loved most, you would numb the pain as much as possible, too. Since Jackson could not buy happiness, since we would not leave him alone, he instead was able to buy oblivion through a pharmacopia of meds pushed onto him by greedy doctors and handler leeches, ready to bleed him dry just as the rest of the world wanted to. If you had been told your entire life that you were hideously ugly, had been badly burned in the name of capitalist endeavors, had a disease that stripped you mercilessly of the one identifying factor that you were indeed proud of, you would hide yourself from the world and work tirelessly to change that face that you hated but so many loved without your knowledge as well. Again, his efforts at achieving some kind of happiness through physical changes were thwarted yet again by the barbs and arrows constantly flung at him in the court of public opinion.
Despite all of that though, I want to believe that Jackson always knew that there were those of us who would and will love him for the gentle, brilliant genius he always was. Despite the allegations, the transformations, the medications, those of us who could get past the lies and love him still simply for his damaged, broken self in all his efforts at some kind of normalcy, some kind of peace in a world that simply would never, ever just let him live his life and do his work as he was always meant to me. And even now that he is gone, now that we only have his astonishing body of musical work, a lifetime of video and images to preserve him in every stage of his strange and wonderful existence, there are those who would still seek to tear him down even though he has already been extinguished after years of battling for his reputation, those who would still call those of us who have supported him through it all deluded idol-worshippers, deceived by a shapeshifting devil made somewhat flesh. They are but the few, because they know they are wrong. They know that they might as well have injected that last shot of Demerol into his heart, they might as well have shoved those pills down his fragile throat, because they are the ones who killed him with their lies and greed.
Those of us who wanted nothing more than to see him live on, to see him continue to perform and astonish and change the world with his unadulterated genius and pure kindness--we are legion. And we will make sure that he is vindicated, that in death he finally receives the respect and honor he so richly deserved throughout his life. Because while the music made up so much of the man, the man was so much more than the music--and it is through his music that the real legend will live on long after the hideous lies and unfounded rumours have faded away. I think that's why the haters are still sliding their jabs in until the very end, because they know that nothing they can say or do will ever remove him from the prominent place he rightfully holds in the collective consciousness of the ENTIRE WORLD. He will live on and on in millions of hearts despite their vicious efforts to continue to break him down even after he is gone, and they know that nothing they ever say or do will ever change the way we feel about him, about his music, about his genius. There is no lie powerful enough, no rumor evil enough, to greed deep enough to take him away from us. We will not let them take him away from us; we will not let him go. He belongs to those of us who loved him and his work, and that is why he will truly live on for as long as there are those of who love him. Which will mostly likely be until the end of time--and then some.
Michael, you dear, sweet, tragic, misunderstood man, I hope with all my being that you have finally found some peace and quiet. It breaks my heart to know that you had to leave us behind to finally get some, but I know that we had to let you go so you could escape the clutches of those who wanted nothing more to see you destroyed. We will not let them win, Michael. You gave us everything you had, and it was beautiful and will most likely never happen again, and we will never forget you for that. I still don't know if I believe in heaven, but I hope you are somewhere where you love yourself as much as we loved you, where you are free finally from the chains of indignity that tried to desperately to weigh you down and drown you under waves of lies and condemnation, where you are strong and vibrant and peaceful, and more than anything else, happy. There is no one who deserves it more than you do.
Dangerous was one of the first tapes I ever owned--I got it for Christmas when I was in the first grade and promptly wore it out something serious, right along with Technotronic and Paula Abdul's Promise of a New Day (as you might have guessed, my tastes in music have not changed drastically since then). So by the time Michael Jackson moonwalked into my realm of awareness, he had already become lighter-skinned, smaller-nosed, and finer-haired; but somehow he had been ingrained into my consciousness for years before then. Being born in the early-80s and not being a "child of" them, I was not around to experience Jackson at his popular peak of celebrity--but somehow that didn't seem to make a difference in how much his presence seemed to influence my young life and my development into a fan of quality music and the skilled movement and manipulation of the human form.
Which is why it pains me that Jackson is continually claimed (in the mass media, anyway) as belonging solely to the Babyboomers as part of his Jackson 5 days, and to GenX from his solo years. That was just one facet of Jackson's genius--he belonged to so many different kinds of people of all ages, and yes, children, because he cultivated a continuous aura of inclusion, transcending the boundaries of age, race, class and even gender to become an undefinable figurehead for anyone who has felt alone, misunderstood, ugly, ignored, or powerless and for everyone who has a pure and unadulterated love for the joy of music and the physical expression of rhythm and melody. For those of us who love to sing and love to dance even more, Jackson is the alpha and the omega, whether we realize it or not.
While clearly Jackson was and is beyond genius at breaking barriers between musical genres and racial divides, I loved him as a dancer more than anything. To watch him perform, even though I was never lucky enough to get to see him live, to me was like magic, sheer beauty and poetry, awestruck in wonder at the power and form the human body can contain in its fullest potential. Just look at how the "Thriller" dance has permeated our collective consciousness over the last 20 years, or the still jaw-dropping, mind-numbingly amazing lean from "Smooth Criminal." Looking back even at "Billie Jean" and "Beat It," on up through "Black or White" and "Remember the Time," there are so many different moves and rhythms that I recognize from late nights on the dance floor with friends that I never even realized originated from Jackson's repertoire, but again demonstrate the way his brilliance became part of our everyday existence--and all we ever did was take it for granted.
In fact, even now as preparations are put in place for his memorial service in Los Angeles, it still feels like nothing we can ever say or do as a society will ever be enough to make up for the physical and emotional torment America exacted upon Jackson throughout his sad, strange life. He was one of the only true musical geniuses America could lay claim to (sorry, y'all, but the Beatles were British and all Elvis did was co-opt black music for white consumption), and what did we do for him? We abandoned him in his darkest hours, speculated mercilessly about him and his family and his proclivities without ever even wanting to know the true facts at hand, hounded him and spewed vicious lie after lie about him in the press--the first and most painful example of tearing our celebrities down just to watch them burn in the age of media over-saturation and mean-spirited speculation. I watched Martin Bashear's hideous farce of a "documentary," and wanted to cry when I saw the cariacture Jackson was reduced to, the laughingstock and freakshow he was continually turned out to be. Looking back now after hearing of his decades of drug abuse, it is so painfully obvious that Jackson was not just a "weirdo" and a "freak" like the media wanted us to believe--he was heavily, heavily drugged and retreating further and further into a world of his own creation to escape the reality of the world that wanted nothing more than to take his seemingly endless precious gifts as one of the finest entertainers we have ever known and to break him down once and for all.
And now here it is, do we finally have what we wanted? Have we rid ourselves of the so-called pervert and hideous freakshow once and for all? Here's the thing--Michael Jackson was never once convicted of any of these alleged crimes in a court of law. He was accused, judged and tried in the court of opinion alone, and what a sham of a system of justice that turned out to me. If you were a parent and your child had indeed been molested, would you really have settled out of court? Wouldn't you want to have seen the perpetrator convicted for the world to see and locked away? Wouldn't you have wanted more justice for your child than a cash settlement? The whole thing screams extortion and it always has. But because Jackson himself never had a childhood, was never allowed to experience the freedom and playfulness that we again take for granted of our youth, as an adult he desperately grasped at any semblance of joy and innocence that was denied him so egregiously as a child. He attempted to buy happiness, and yet it was constantly denied him no matter how hard he tried or how much he spent.
If the entire world seemed to think that you wanted nothing more than to harm that which you loved most, you would numb the pain as much as possible, too. Since Jackson could not buy happiness, since we would not leave him alone, he instead was able to buy oblivion through a pharmacopia of meds pushed onto him by greedy doctors and handler leeches, ready to bleed him dry just as the rest of the world wanted to. If you had been told your entire life that you were hideously ugly, had been badly burned in the name of capitalist endeavors, had a disease that stripped you mercilessly of the one identifying factor that you were indeed proud of, you would hide yourself from the world and work tirelessly to change that face that you hated but so many loved without your knowledge as well. Again, his efforts at achieving some kind of happiness through physical changes were thwarted yet again by the barbs and arrows constantly flung at him in the court of public opinion.
Despite all of that though, I want to believe that Jackson always knew that there were those of us who would and will love him for the gentle, brilliant genius he always was. Despite the allegations, the transformations, the medications, those of us who could get past the lies and love him still simply for his damaged, broken self in all his efforts at some kind of normalcy, some kind of peace in a world that simply would never, ever just let him live his life and do his work as he was always meant to me. And even now that he is gone, now that we only have his astonishing body of musical work, a lifetime of video and images to preserve him in every stage of his strange and wonderful existence, there are those who would still seek to tear him down even though he has already been extinguished after years of battling for his reputation, those who would still call those of us who have supported him through it all deluded idol-worshippers, deceived by a shapeshifting devil made somewhat flesh. They are but the few, because they know they are wrong. They know that they might as well have injected that last shot of Demerol into his heart, they might as well have shoved those pills down his fragile throat, because they are the ones who killed him with their lies and greed.
Those of us who wanted nothing more than to see him live on, to see him continue to perform and astonish and change the world with his unadulterated genius and pure kindness--we are legion. And we will make sure that he is vindicated, that in death he finally receives the respect and honor he so richly deserved throughout his life. Because while the music made up so much of the man, the man was so much more than the music--and it is through his music that the real legend will live on long after the hideous lies and unfounded rumours have faded away. I think that's why the haters are still sliding their jabs in until the very end, because they know that nothing they can say or do will ever remove him from the prominent place he rightfully holds in the collective consciousness of the ENTIRE WORLD. He will live on and on in millions of hearts despite their vicious efforts to continue to break him down even after he is gone, and they know that nothing they ever say or do will ever change the way we feel about him, about his music, about his genius. There is no lie powerful enough, no rumor evil enough, to greed deep enough to take him away from us. We will not let them take him away from us; we will not let him go. He belongs to those of us who loved him and his work, and that is why he will truly live on for as long as there are those of who love him. Which will mostly likely be until the end of time--and then some.
Michael, you dear, sweet, tragic, misunderstood man, I hope with all my being that you have finally found some peace and quiet. It breaks my heart to know that you had to leave us behind to finally get some, but I know that we had to let you go so you could escape the clutches of those who wanted nothing more to see you destroyed. We will not let them win, Michael. You gave us everything you had, and it was beautiful and will most likely never happen again, and we will never forget you for that. I still don't know if I believe in heaven, but I hope you are somewhere where you love yourself as much as we loved you, where you are free finally from the chains of indignity that tried to desperately to weigh you down and drown you under waves of lies and condemnation, where you are strong and vibrant and peaceful, and more than anything else, happy. There is no one who deserves it more than you do.
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6 comments:
You know, I'm not sure if it's because I'm a little young for it (born in 88), or if it's because I have very large, oddly placed gaps in my pop culture upbringing, but I never went through the MJ-mania. This is a really well written post though and I LOVE you for "all Elvis did was co-opt black music for white consumption", since most people refuse to recognize that!!
And amen! That was a great post. ~sniff~
Amazing post. Found it on Twitter.
Found randomly on Twitter... So glad I did. Thank you SO much for writing this. Amazing. RIP Michael.
What is becoming clearer and clearer as we learn more is the ncredible amount of pain and unhappiness this man went through.
I feel very sad reading this.
Leigh you are quite the panegyrist.
thank you so much for all the kind words, you all. it took me a while to figure out exactly what i wanted to say, and once i got going it all just sort of spilled over. there's still a raw little part of me that stings every time i realize that he's not around anymore. i hope neverland gets made into a museum a la graceland, because i will gladly make that pilgrimage.
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