My eyes are hurting, my head's pounding. I've sat and watched the memorial to honour the life and legacy of Michael Jackson that took place on 7 July at The Staples Centre in downtown LA. As Michael's solid gold casket with an huge display of beautiful dark red roses was wheeled in by his brothers - all wearing a single Rhine-stone covered glove and dark black glasses, part in homage to MJ and part to hide their red-eyes - it all became pretty real that this would be Michael's last public performance.
In all honesty I was pleased with what the Jackson family along with Michael’s long-time friend and choreographer Kenny Ortega had conceived for the memorial. I had this worrying thought after Joe Jackson’s odd display of promoting his record label at the 2009 BET Awards and thought it might happen again. He must've been kept in check...
Michael’s 11-year-old daughter Paris’s highly-emotive words at the end were a tear-jerker. I knew of grown men who were moved to tears by her. Michael taught her well, for her age and in front of so many she still remained quite composed until the end. I was most touched by the genuine affection amongst the family members: from Janet touching her brothers arms when they brought Michael into the auditorium; to Jackie holding onto Marlon when they are all gathered on the stage to the Jacksons embracing Usher as he became overcome with emotion standing in front of Michael’s coffin towards the end of his rendition of “Gone Too Soon”. Despite all the ups and downs the Jacksons have gone through I was moved to see that unlike some families at this time they put all that aside and were there for each other. Some have been arguing since about how could they let Paris talk on stage especially considering their father tried to protect them with veils throughout their lives. To them I say: watch the clip again, Paris asks Janet if she can speak. Three different family members then ask again if she can do it. Yes she broke down but then wouldn't you if you had to say goodbye to the only parent you've ever known? The part where she falls into Janet's arms and everyone embraces Prince Michael I and Blanket should speak volumes about the love they will receive.
Even though I know the memorial's taken place I still don't think it's fully sunk in that Michael's gone. I still can’t get over the news I received well over a week ago as I sat on my laptop about 11pm BST watching real-time status feeds on Twitter and Facebook coming in thick and fast. They all wanted to be the first to proclaim the surreal news that was about to hit me at full speed in my chest.
“Michael Jackson’s had a heart attack,” were the first updates/tweets.
People quickly commented on those statuses in utter disbelief and, “no, please tell me it’s not true.”
Pause
Wait 15 minutes.
Then came the rippling waves that was to cripple the internet: “RIP Michael Jackson”
I ran downstairs and turned on the news. I was flipping between BBC, CNN and Sky News, all three were reporting that TMZ.com claimed Michael had died but were unwilling to verify it. The LA Times followed TMZ with the story. I held on to a vain hope because TMZ had been known to kill off celebrities before they’d actually expired. BBC still wasn’t budging from its report that Michael had had a heart attack until it could get an independent source to verify it.
The “RIP” statuses were still coming in thick and fast, on top of that I started to receive calls and text messages asking me if I’d heard the news. And some friends who instantly associated anything Michael Jackson related with me called to offer their condolences. Within minutes of his actual death the whole world knew; we knew in real-time when he had passed from this world.
Finally the BBC announced that they could confirm Michael had died. To say it was a shock is an understatement. The tears flowed, I heard the news, I processed it, yet a massive part of me wished someone would declare it as a sick joke, even now I still do. In some odd way I think I’ll always want the news to be wrong. In a parallel universe that exists between the breaths of our existence Michael is dancing, singing and laughing that unabashed laugh that he had... in this parallel universe everything you ever wished for exists. And he doesn’t need to do the 50 dates at the O2.
When Michael announced the tour dates at the O2 in March, I was there. Unemployed at the time and being a firm believer in seizing the moment I went along. I wasn’t even sure he was going to turn up; in fact I wasn’t even in the front pen to begin with. With luck and a bit of “extra” help we managed to manoeuvre ourselves through. We waited for hours. He came out for all of approximately 7 minutes, though at the time and even now those 7 minutes of his time was worth all the waiting. I gave him all my hope and strength at that point because I knew the press from that point on would start mocking him and saying he wouldn’t be able to complete the dates. I willed him to prove all the detractors wrong. I wanted him to go out on top form and for everyone to remember what a musical genius he was. In an ironic way they are remembering him for his music now, just while he’s not around to appreciate and feel the love.
The day after he died every radio station and TV channel I turned on was paying tribute to Michael in some form: from playing his music to reviewing his life. Suddenly everyone loved him. Years before they went from saying Michael had self-appointed the title “King of Pop” to now using that same title to describe him, oh how quickly people forget. When he was alive no-one, especially the last third of his career did anyone appreciate his talent. Michael’s life had three parts some could say: firstly, the child prodigy, then the adult superstar and finally the eccentric behaviour which led people to turn their focus away from the music. Now those who’ve only ever heard the stories/allegations have returned to the music and are saying ‘wow, he was an awesome dancer’.
The rehearsal footage from the Staples Centre taken 2 days before he died showed that MJ still had it. Yes, he was slim but his weight was known to fluctuate. It was the command, the energy, the medley he created which showed that This Is It was to be, well, this is it. We were so close to seeing him back on top, I think that’s what we are grieving for, and we wanted the last few negative years to be replaced with a better memory.
I know some people may not understand why I'm so upset, but then I don’t judge anyone else when they get upset about a pet or they get angry when they see a story on the news about someone they’ve never met. Sometimes something or someone just creates this connection in you, moves a part of you and makes you feel like you’re understood, makes you feel what pure love is. Yes, love. You can love a person you’ve never met if you truly understand what love is about and how it affects your life, if you don’t understand this then you’ve never loved. My family weren’t the type to say ‘I love you’ to each other, hearing those three words in my life has dogged me, but I still freely say them. I give love freely. I learnt that essence through Michael. Like Stevie Wonder said at the memorial he was at peace with himself because he’d told Michael he loved him every time they spoke.
MJ could turn my frown into a smile so easily. I remember once when I was about 11, we visited my dad’s family home in Pakistan. I hated going there with a passion, even more so if I knew I had to stay the night. I made my mum promise me we weren’t going to stay there, when we arrived I found out I’d been duped. The whole time I sat with my head in my hands crying. Some hours passed and they were watching an Indian film, somehow at the end of the film they had some MJ songs. My tears dried up and I could cope with being there because Michael was there too.
On this same trip to Pakistan I took all my MJ music and a player to listen to it on. Damned if I’d be to spend 6 weeks without him. My family thought I was crazy especially when later on with my saved up pocket money I used to buy the DVDs and singles and dance around for hours to them, trying to mimic the moves and get all the hee-hees in the right place...it never worked.
I've had my ups and downs with Michael over the years. It’s been tough staying loyal in the face of all the ridicule. Back when the first allegations came out, I didn’t want to say I was a fan, not out of embarrassment because I didn’t want anyone to say anything bad and then I’d have to take them down. The can of verbal whupping they would’ve received would’ve been more demeaning then anything they could’ve thought up. When he paid Jordy Chandler the reported $20m I was mad pissed at him and in particular his advisors. How the fuck could he get done like that? Did he not get that no matter what he did the sick people would presume his guilt. This despite it actually emerging that the description that Jordy gave of Michael’s privates was completely off-the-mark after Michael was subjected to a demeaning body search. Now that’s not something you heard in the papers. I think it was reading J Randy Taraborrelli’s biography about Michael that made me see why Mike did it. His first set of lawyers had royally fucked up his case and it would’ve taken him 6 years to sort through the mess they had created, and Mike was tired of all the shit.
Some people have shouted out such as Republican congressman Peter King have said we shouldn’t be honouring a “monster” and a “paedophile” and now TV commentator Bill O’Reilly has opened his big gob to weigh in on the debate. Let’s remember the facts here: he wasn’t convicted in a court of law. In fact the jury said that the family were liars. They tried to pin so much crap on Mike throughout that trial, for instance that he had porn in his house – c’mon, it was STRAIGHT porn there was nothing dodgy about it. Isn’t that what 99 per cent of the male population have anyhow? And calling alcohol “jesus juice”? What about my friends that call a drunken get together an ‘alcash,’ does that mean there’s something odd about them?
I don’t want to dwell on these parts of Michael’s life, but they are an intricate seam of his career. If you ignored them you’d end up discrediting and ultimately not understanding the complex nature of the man. I think there are many areas of his life where the facts weren’t pieced together and what the media wanted to perceive was far more convenient than the real explanation. For instance I don’t think he hated his skin colour, I think he was a proud black American. Think about it: have you heard any friends/ex-staff say he was unhappy with the colour of his skin? No, detractors are just assuming. I do believe he had vitiligo and that he was using heavy make-up to cover it. And Michael was known for wearing some heavy make-up. There are pictures floating around on the tube, if you search, which show discolouration of the skin.
I think where people become confused and assume he hated his racial identity is because of the changes he made to his nose coupled with the change in skin colour. They’re two separate psychological crises he had, I believe but they’ve somehow become intertwined in our consciousness. The hatred of his nose was a direct result of being teased by family members for having a ‘big nose,’ and when he had an accident while dancing Michael found the opportunity to have his first nose job. He’d also had bad acne at that point in his life so when he started receiving treatment for them he noticed an improvement, but because (I believe he had body dysmorphic disorder) he never thought the last treatment he received was perfect.
Michael spent 45 years in the limelight, never taking the path to adulthood that the rest of us have taken, so why wouldn’t he be different. He was a complex man. He could be neurotic and at the same time the most humble, self-effacing person, that was the beauty of his character because we can all be like that. One minute we’re bragging and the next we’re crumbling in a heap at our insecurities, his were just played out in the tabloid fodder. In some respects he was a victim of his own success, he had leeches surround him who became ‘yes men’ instead of having a backbone. And the stories won’t stop now he’s in his coffin, people will try and delve deeper until the cause of death is determined. Does it really matter how he died? We all have to die somehow, some way and this was his. Just think about the part your negative words, thoughts and actions played in his life to cause him to seek such redress from the pain caused towards him. Could you tolerate that much ridicule? Sure some of it he brought on himself but some was just plain vicious.
He was a beautiful man who has left us an awe-inspiring legacy. We have reams of footage of him to pore over, it won’t be the same as seeing him live but we’ll have to live with that. Michael was a record-breaker in life as well as death, from the highest-selling album to the most number of fans on Facebook, to the most number of people watching his memorial service. None of that can ever be denied or taken away from him. He broke so many boundaries for Asians and blacks to be allowed to have their music played on MTV. He was a legend, a superstar, a one-off gift to us. I'm glad I recognised that and cherished it whilst it was here. I’ll remain forever saddened that you didn’t complete your tour, but God knows best why he called you home. To God we belong, and to him we shall return.
I've always believed that grief is a selfish act. Michael’s in a better place, he’s free from his demons. In time the truth I've always known about him will come out; people will see the Michael that’s always been there. His legacy will continue to live on and shine. He will forever remain in the hearts of those blessed to recognise the beauty in his music and in him. I hope and pray his family and dear friends find the strength to carry on and not to sully his name. It's like with most deaths of dear ones, you only feel it when the mourners have left your side, time no longer stands still and you're left to stare at that empty space alone - that's when you slowly start to make sense of what God has just hit you with. And what is that exactly? The act that will happen to us all eventually.
In a parallel universe I'm sitting with Michael drinking tea, eating cakes and listening to his new album. He sits there with under the shade of the umbrella in a garden filled with the fading afternoon sun and bright pink bougainvillea; I can see he’s closed his dark brown eyes behind his sunglasses. He tilts his head back and tells me this life was a hard test he endured; now he’s looking to grow old without having his demons chasing him. He’s at peace and he will always love us more.
29 August 1958-25 June 2009
PS. Thank you for reading my self-indulgent rant about a person I never met face-to-face but who touched my life in a way that can never be replaced or imagined. Much love, peace and light to you and yours. I love you more.
Labels: memorial, Michael, Michael Jackson
