Mourning Michael

By Lubna Abdel-Aziz

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The world mourns yet another American tragedy with the loss of Michael Jackson.

Michael Jackson (1958-2009)

What is it about stardom in general, American stardom in particular, that raises its idols to the top of the hill, only to pull them down to the pit of destruction and ruin. Their tragic fall reverberates throughout history, as their memory evokes joy mingled with sorrowful tears. Such rare talents are not without their tormentors. Relentless and fickle they pursue those whom the gods have blessed, attacking, accusing, scrutinizing and condemning. Finally, satisfied after pressing the point home, they sit back viewing the after effects. When the devastation is complete, they rush to the rescue, praising their victims, exalting them once again to the highest heights showering them with accolades and eulogies.

It is useless to ask why. There are no answers to illogical questions. We often have to forego all the whys, all the use of logic and concede - it is karma, it is destiny, it is written -- that is all.

Rather than live, baffled by what MJ did, where and why, let us explore the essence of the man. Cool and masterly, the King of Pop invented the anatomy of dance. A song was not just a song, it was a total expression of body, voice, heart and soul. Ecstatic and euphoric, Ii shimmered and shimmied, it swung and swayed, it fluttered and floated soaring to the moon. Jackson electrified fans with his magical moonwalk. He was walking on air, without a doubt, he was the voice of his generation. Lyrical and mystical, his was a language that needed no translation.

A musical prodigy, Jackson started his hard work at age 5. By age 7, he was the voice and focus of the Jackson Five. Fame came, in 1967, solo success followed in the eighties. MJ worked constantly, creating, refining, perfecting his style. Along the way he also became a fashion icon, the single frequent white glove, white socks, black shoes, zippered jackets, and recorded the single selling album of all time. With no formal education to speak of, he relied on his native instincts, becoming the only artist in history to sell 100 million copies Thriller, as well as the only artist to generate five #1 hits from one album -- Bad. He sold 300 million albums worldwide.

Savvy and mature as a businessman, Jackson remained childlike and innocent at heart. His mesmerizing, provocative stage moves, did not carry over off-stage. In real life he was timid, shy, gentle and soft spoken, ready to withdraw to his safe world of purity and play, his Neverland. Greatly influenced by the character Peter Pan, the boy who would not grow up, and his Lost Boys, he was likewise drawn to its author J. M. Barrie, who was also accused of child molestation during his lifetime. Jackson transformed a 2,700-acre estate to the ultimate safe playground with mini- coasters, bumper cars, merry-go-rounds, trains, giant slides, and a zoo with exotic animals, including elephants, giraffes, alligators, a tiger, and an anaconda. "I will always be Peter Pan in my heart."

Entertaining audiences all his life, Michael became weary and tired. He dressed up in costumes, as children do, changed his appearance as children do, unhappy with his looks, he changed them too. He created a world of misbelieve and never knew when enough was enough. Diagnosed with Lupus in 1984, Jackson also suffered from 'vitiligo' a skin disorder of melanin loss that produces white patches. The press had a field day, bashing his paler looks. Blacks did not like it, Whites did not like it. Misunderstood, disillusioned and disappointed, Jackson announced in 2000, he was considering retiring from the music industry, citing his weariness as the reason.

Rich and vulnerable, he was exploited by all around him. Parents who were only too happy to send their children to enjoy the pleasures of Neverland, to eat drink, play, travel, thought of more ways to benefit from the king of the Magic Kingdom. So tormenting were accusations of child abuse, Jackson settled out of court, to save himself from the heartache and pain. It was a big mistake. Another big mistake was showing his third child over a fourth floor balcony of a Berlin hotel to adoring fans below. The press could not wait to condemn and ridicule. Forgotten were all the charitable acts - the $300 million paid to aid children, the "Heal the World Foundation" which airlifted food and medical supplies to war-torn Sarajevo, paying for a Hungarian child's liver transplant , or the money generated from We are the World song for the benefit of starving Africans. All they could gloat over was a split-second miscalculation by a loving parent in a moment of confusion. As if this gentle soul could, or would willfully hurt his own child. "I cry sometimes because it hurts." Dragged to court with more accusations from extortionists who found him a likely target. Michael Jackson was put on a circus side-show, an allegorical spectacle. Although acquitted of all charges of child molestation and intoxication of a minor -- the stain remained in the black hearts of his self-righteous judges. He never again returned to his magic kingdom, to his world of make- believe, to his Neverland.

Lost and defeated, his physical pains grew. Injuries from a cracked vertebra sustained from a stage fall, a broken leg, and a broken ribcage, he became dependent on pain killers, as do many among the fragile, the delicate, the tormented. He heard them call him bizarre, freakish, eccentric, because he did not fit their world. He was a creator, he was a genius, he was the king. With tender grace he never stopped reaching out to children, smashing every barrier of culture, color, religion, or language.

Many believe in his innocence of all the foul charges, as do I, as do millions of his fans and friends, from the late Gregory Peck and Marlon Brando, to the ever-loving Elizabeth Taylor and Jane Fonda. After retiring for over a year in Bahrain, Michael returned to the US, rented a home in Holmby Hills and planned a comeback. Fifty concerts in London were to begin July 9th. 800,000 tickets were sold within hours of the announcement. But it was not to be. He was practicing vigorously for 3 hours, the night before he died, he had passed a medical exam with flying colors, how and why did his heart stop never to beat again?

The pain was over. The King of Pop was dead. A sad world wept uncontrollably.

Music producer Keya Morgan called Michael Jackson, the Mozart of our time -- a most fitting description. Bizarre, freakish and strange, maybe; he was also a unique genius whose art transcends the ages. In death our genius moonwalker achieved the ultimate comeback. Michael Jackson is now safe and sound, in his Neverland.

Yet each man kills the thing he loves
By each, let this be heard....
The coward does it with a kiss, the brave man with a sword.
-- Oscar Wilde (1854-1900)