Although I grew up, smack dab in the middle of the era of Michael Jackson (my friends and I did a very cool rendition of "Thriller" for my 8th grade talent show), the truth is that I really didn't feel anything about his death at first. It was odd. Nothing. Numb. I was surprised at myself.
Then today, accidentally, I came across some snippets from Michael's memorial tribute, and began to get a sense of the enormous love around him. It's corny, but the sincerity in the voices of his friends and family inspired me to go back and listen to young Michael's rendition of "I'll Be There." And then it started to become clear. It had been hard for me to mourn Michael Jackson, because the person the world lost is not the person he was supposed to have been.
And that realization is very sad.
Without making excuses for his eccentricities -- or reportedly inappropriate behavior -- Michael Jackson's life and death give us the opportunity to look more closely at ourselves as a society. What did we do to him? What does it say about us? What can we learn from it?
Take a moment to think about the destructive forces that pulled at him constantly, from the first time he appeared onstage -- all the horrors of celebrity: commercialism, consumerism, superficiality, disconnection, judgment. What gentle soul could bear that never-ending barrage? The truth is we wanted a freak to gawk at, to mock in the vain hope of filling up a void in ourselves. We were like bullies on the playground, kicking the shy, slightly weird kid when he was down.
Looking back, it seems that Michael Jackson was always searching for an identity that we would embrace, and that he, ultimately, would also accept. It was an impossible task, because the Michael Jackson we wanted was a specter, an ideal. So with each rejection, he recoiled and tried again harder the next time. He was lonely, so we exploited it. He was kind, so we twisted it. He was brilliant, so we marginalized it. At the end of his life, it seems that Michael himself did not know who he was, and that is why to us now, he remains an icon, a caricature of himself. And we all have a part in that. Maybe -- at the end of the day -- he was just too sensitive for this world.
At first glance, what made us uncomfortable about Michael Jackson in the later years was how severely he diverged from what we understand to be normal. But who amongst us hasn't searched for identity? For acceptance? For love? Who hasn't struggled with intense loneliness and a desire to connect?
Because of our role in his own understanding of himself, how we respond to Michael Jackson's death reflects on us as a culture and a people. There is a conventional wisdom that when you point a finger at someone, there are three pointing back towards you. Those who take the sadness of his death to cruelly rebuke Michael Jackson for his oddities transparently reveal their own pathetic insecurities.
The spectacle we made of Michael Jackson's life shouldn't be repeated in his death. Perhaps it's time for us to ponder our role in the destruction of the person that Michael Jackson was meant to be. Perhaps we should use this as an opportunity to heal ourselves as a culture. Perhaps it's time to turn off the television reality shows, cancel the subscription to celebrity gossip magazines, and take a few moments out of the day to be conscious of the effect our attention -- positive and negative -- has on the people around us.
And to paraphrase a well-known person of great compassion, let s/he who has never felt the sting of rejection or the despair of loneliness cast the only stones.
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I grew up listening to MJ and the Jackson Five and have their albums and I even did a dance to the tune Thriller for an Office Concert.
This event hit me just like Princess D and Anna Nicole Smith's passing, but I think that Michael affected me the most. I had a headache for days after and even though I tried to turn away from the news, I was still drawn to find out when was the burial, just as if he was a relative, such was the feeling. I watched the ceremony and cried and was moved at watching the family and the brothers in their pain, and saw the sisters with their composure.
I was brought to more tears on seeing Paris speaking on behalf of her father, she being so brave and ladylike at such a young age. My heart went out to poor Blanket who was hiding behind Janet and Prince.
I know that it will be difficult but not impossible, but just wish that these children would now grow up in a media free, respectful environment and be left alone to just develop into the adults that they're meant to be.
I noticed that some of the journalists watching and reporting on the memorial service seemed to have a dawning realization after that event, that here lay a human being--not a freak, not a sideshow--with loving, long-standing ties to those closest to him. As though this were a remarkable revelation.
There were tragic aspects of Jackson's personality that helped to bring about this bitter end. But pioneering geniuses (of which he undoubtedly was one) seem to often suffer social handicaps and isolation. Your playground bully metaphor seems quite apt. No matter what the contribution, we appear determined to kill the golden goose.
Michael Jackson seems to have been chronically sad and bereft. Marvin Gaye once said said MJ had "the quality that separates the merely sentimental from the truly heartfelt...it's rooted in the blues." Whenever I think of how much more amplified those feelings must have been for him in the past few years, I get the blues bad, too.
I was not an MJ ‘fanatic’, no more a ‘fan’ than anyone else who was dancing to his music in the 70s and 80s and being blown away by his moves etc…
But his death was a shock, almost surreal….I watched the news, watched the tributes, read the essays and felt the sting of the Orths, cynics and such.
MJ’s death is affecting me in a way that no public death has and I keep going back.
In 1974, I was a painfully shy, awkward 8 year old who was bullied at school…
My sister had the 45 of Ben, and I played that song over and over…this was me, the kid who didn’t fit in…..
Somehow, I heard the loneliness in his voice and I just connected to something….if for only three minutes - because I knew I had to go out and face the world the next day.
I grew up and got stronger and fell in love with all kinds of music….
And I watched as MJ exploded, imploded and then fall apart.…
Maybe that kid I was in 1974 never forgot what it felt like to be that alone…and maybe that’s the part of me that MJ took with him when he passed away – the part of me that always rooted for him to kick all their asses with his magnificence.
I love you MJ.
Than it struck on me, like a tunder, I felt so terribly sad and alone and I had enourmous phisical pain, especially after waching his videos on ITV and memorial tribute, so I realised: the Sprit, the Soul of MJ which left our world was something much, much more than we can even imagine. There is something about MJ that only in far future will be propely understood. But for the time being I can sadly say , he will still be only exploited even futher by some people who care only for their own well being and who's intelect is declined only at the racional level (IQ- calculative inteligence) with no EQ ( emotional inteligence) or ESQ ( spiritual inteligence).
How sad is our society, but still I have hope , especially reading such a good articles as the article above , writen by Chinthia. Thank you and THANK MJ for coming to our world and staying with us.
An I totally agree, his mission was not completed, although we will always remember him as a one of the greates talents in different arts and MJ correctly said: God in this world is also working trough Art.
watching his home videos and stuff, it's apparent that he just wanted to have fun and be appreciated. seemed like a nice guy to know
Out of respect for the most innocent amongst the populace, regardless of anything their father did or didn't do right in life or for the 'what if''s - these kids deserve to have their dignity respected, they've suffered enough.
RIP
Sandy