In Memory of the King of Pop

Michael Jackson's death has devastated me. I don't know how to write about it. I have known his music my entire life. It feels as if I have lost someone I knew personally. His death hurts deeply! I cried long and hard over it. I keep telling myself this is a bad publicity stunt, a joke gone too far. I don't want to accept that Michael is dead!

I am not alone in my reaction. I have been stunned by the outpouring of grief by fans all over the world that loved him. I didn't realize or had forgotten how much he was appreciated. The King of Pop was recognized as a genius everywhere except in his own country. He should have been revered as a national treasure rather than reduced to some sort of oddity.

For all of his talent, he was a tortured soul. It is ironic that an artist whose music literally changed lives could not be saved by it. While his troubles were largely exploited, if not exaggerated by the media, there are certain things about him that I never believed. For all of his personal angst, I never believed that he was a pedophile. I am angered that even in death, the American press continues to re-hash the same old accusations regarding his supposed debt, casting doubt regarding the paternity of his children, ridiculing his changing appearance, and so on.

The scrutiny of the American press, and the soul destroying mechanism of the entertainment industry hastened Michael's demise. I am angry that for all the good this man brought to the world that he was reviled for it. I am saddened that the genuine care and support of his fans were not enough to save him. I am at a lost that like many African American men, he died prematurely.

I refuse to reduce Michael to a tragedy. He deserves better than that as his epithet. I have too many fond memories of him to remember him that way. For instance, I was blown away by when he performed on Motown's 25th Anniversary special. Yes, I saw him do the moonwalk on TV for the first time along with his dynamic performance of "Billie Jean." I was speechless after his performance on the '88 Grammy Awards with his gospel, soulful rendition of "Man in the Mirror." I watched faithfully the premier of video after video late into my college years including "Black or White" and "Remember the Time."

Michael is the reason there is an African American presence on MTV and its affiliated stations. He broke through, crossed over, led the way for artists of color onto the pop stations. Michael had to surpass many obstacles to reach the world music community. He earned the right to be the King of Pop.

I am still trying to make sense of Michael's passing. This blog entry is incomplete. I don't know what to make of it. In fact, for right now, I have to think about Michael's death more as a friend that I won't see for a while rather than accept the finality of it. In time, I can write something more adequate. Suffice it to say, he was the world's greatest entertainer.