Inner Michael

It remains a mystery. I know that the tabloid industry helped it along, but I don’t get it. Why Michael? I know why he was so beloved but I struggle to understand why he was such a polarizing figure. For six months now I have looked into almost every corner of his life, and I still have yet to figure out what was Michael Jackson’s great crime? What was the cardinal sin he committed? He was adored and then he was vilified. The only in-between seems to be indifference. The pointing finger and clucking disapproval was there long before the extortion attempts directed at him regarding children. What made Michael Jackson such a lightening rod?

Maybe his crime was growing up. Remember when they thought that little Michael with the big voice and the amazing dance steps was just so cute? Everybody loved the Jackson Five and later the Jacksons! Everybody loved little Michael! Nobody wanted the little kid with the big talent to grow up. The world wanted him to be little and cute and to wow us with his musical savant-like talent.

It wasn’t when Michael left the Jackson Five because Michael grew into a young man, a twenty something talented and likeable young man. A little gangly still growing into a body- but cute. And sweet. And his singing in “Off the Wall” was fresh and happy and endearing. You can hear the delight of making music in his voice. He smiled a lot, wore his success well. How he loved the spotlight; how it favored him! Then there was the success of Thriller and overnight Michael Jackson was a household name. We loved him after Thriller; we marveled at his project “We Are the World,” “Hands Across America” and embraced him as a favorite entertainer. Thriller became the best selling album of all time. There was Thriller, Beat It and everybody had the jackets.

So when did this all change? Was it with the release of Bad? Was it the bad boy image that the girls seemed to love and did it evoke male territorial and patriarchal jealousy? Was it too much of a change, a shock to see the wholesome little Michael become the buckles-and-leather dark child of music and video? Reinventing oneself is mandatory in show business. Everybody has to have a shtick. Everybody has to surprise, delight or even shock the audience to keep them interested. Michael knew how to get attention—was that it?

Or was it instead, when his Vitiligo skin disease got so bad that it took over most of his dark pigmentation?  At some point, his skin became more light than dark and full body dark makeup was impractical, so the doctor suggested de-pigmentation of the remaining dark skin. It just made more practical sense to lighten the rest of his body because there was no reversing the disease. Did people begin to love to hate Michael Jackson because of his skin color? That’s racism. That’s ugly.

Was it the surgeries? When his face began to change with cosmetic procedures? Actually his first noticeable change came when he embraced vegetarianism. The elimination of meat in one’s diet will create a radical change in the body, from looks to muscle distribution to energy. When his appearance began to change, did we feel we had lost forever the cute little Michael? Did we feel him slipping away from our grasp? Was it that our beloved star was becoming too “Hollywood” for us? It’s so odd that he became the target of so much ridicule; they don’t ridicule Joan Rivers or Joan Collins or any of the other stars who have perpetual “work done.” Why Michael? Cosmetic surgery in the entertainment business is almost essential.

In researching his life, the one thing I have learned about Michael is that he viewed his life and work as a canvas for art. And he saw himself as an instrument of nature. He was constantly perfecting his art. His face, his dance, his dress, his style all were certainly a part of that art. An entertainer’s look is everything. He had a right to do whatever he wanted with his own canvas. It was, after all, his face. We all have that right to create or recreate ourselves. To change our appearance. To do whatever we want with our bodies. Was it pathological? Was Monet pathological? Dali? Rembrandt? Artists paint creative visions on their canvas. Michael Jackson was a perfectionist. His body was his canvas: the music that came through it, his dance, his timing, his message, his stage art, his interaction with his audience and fans, and yes, his face. Michael saw himself as a perpetual work in progress.

“Lookism” is not dead. We still want to see the “beautiful people.” Age and fading looks are a sin especially in American culture. We make major judgments about people because of how they look. Michael was judged all the time about his look. He couldn’t do anything right; nothing about his look was beyond criticism. Did Michael wear our collective intolerance to blemish in his face? Was he a mirror for the collective shadow that demands comfort, some conformity yet innovation and reinvention? He was the consummate shape shifter; was that for our benefit? Did he mirror back our fickleness and intolerance to us?

Was it when he began to wear the mask? Did we speculate as to why the mask? Why a surgical mask? Did we understand that this was the most hunted man on the planet? Michael couldn’t go anywhere. Paparazzi stalked him wherever he went and the tabloids, when they began to crucify him— couldn’t find anything right with anything he did. Any kind of privacy was out of the question for this man. Never did anyone ask permission to take his picture; they just hunted him, climbed his trees and fences, sent helicopters over his house and invaded private moments. And then they began to invent captions for photographs to sensationalize, not to inform. He was a tabloid editor’s dream. The public clamored for more Michael, so the tabloids gave them more and more twisted headlines. Michael couldn’t win. No matter what he did, he couldn’t win. If he donated an oxygen chamber to a children’s burn center, he most certainly was sleeping in one in his home. If he bought Liz Taylor a huge tapestry with her Hollywood face as a gift, he was building a shrine for her in his home. And the elephant man bones? Are you kidding? So whatever he said or did was taken out of context and used to sell dirt rag magazines. Michael was a cash cow for the tabloids and they milked him.

Was Michael’s sin his daring, his boldness? The world is pretty fickle with their affection and attention. “Bad,” Dangerous,” and “HIStory” were necessary attempts to stay fresh and relevant in the industry where attention spans are short—about 3-4 minutes for a song, then on to the next in the shuffle. So each release went even further in the quest to being the spectacle that gets people talking. Michael loved to push the boundaries, to reach the heights and beyond the limits of what had been done before. When it came to his art and work, he was bold. Was that another polarizing feature of Michael Jackson, that he dared to scoff at convention? The more contemporary artists go far beyond unconventional venturing deeply into outrageous. But do they have lasting power? Michael did. He was relevant for decades, because of his daring and his understanding of drama.

Was it when Michael began to be so famous? We didn’t like him getting too uppity? Maybe too uppity for a black person? Too distant from us? Too famous? Was it because he was elusive, shy and didn’t like to give interviews because he felt uncomfortable chatting? Did we want “Michael on demand?” Michael was not an orator. He has said he was only comfortable on the stage, only when making his music. Michael hid his shyness behind that stage persona. Was it because he avoided interviews that we blamed him and resented not having him at our beck and call? Did he owe us his life?

Was it the aura of mystery that surrounded Michael? Did mystery turn sinister? Why and when? The elusiveness and mask contributed to that as did the umbrella. His Vitiligo and the medications to treat the disease made him sensitive to the sun. The umbrella was necessary. I wonder how many of us would take to wearing a mask in public if we found something that we could wear that would cover our faces so that there was nothing to take a picture of. Would we reason that the paparazzi might stop hunting if there was nothing to take a picture of, if the famous face became unavailable? It was a constant invasion, a constant violation of any privacy. How would you handle it? How would I? The mask was to cover a little of the face to dissuade the photographers and give a tiny bit of privacy—someone who had none. I would keep the mask too. But then the mask became the issue. Because he was shy and didn’t like giving interviews, he was labeled a “recluse” which garnered a comparison to Howard Hughes. Then the speculation began that the mask was a germ barrier. Was it sinister? Was he hiding something? No, the mask was to dissuade Paparazzi and to claim just a bit of privacy for the most famous face in the world and forever criticized by the public.

Oh there is no mistaking that Michael knew the value of drama and mystery and he used it to his advantage but the media took it too far. Calling the most recognized man on the planet “Wacko” in a very public forum is just plain meanness. What possible value did that have? None of us can empathize with what that was like because none of us can imagine living our whole lives in a grand fishbowl and being called “wacko” in a very public worldwide forum. None of us can understand what it is like to try to be normal in a circus atmosphere because you are so famous. And we can’t begin to imagine being the target of everybody’s inner shadow. Whatever we disliked the most was projected onto Michael. The collective asked Michael to carry their shadow for them. How to move under those conditions? How to breathe? To be? To love and be loved and be a father raising children? How to live your life?

Was it Michael’s love for animals that made him so strange? Animals give their love unconditionally. They don’t extort you for money or rob you of something you value, or become fickle when slighted, or turn their backs on you or kick you when you’re down. They are simple and innocent. And when treated well they are fiercely loyal. That is something that Michael found lacking in people.

Children and animals. That is what Michael Jackson valued. Both have an innocence that he could relate to. Both are pure and simple, have no agendas and come from the heart. Animals and children don’t manipulate. They just are being. And they let you be. Just be. They haven’t learned to lie or swindle or take advantage of people.

Because we are not wealthy like Michael we cannot imagine the audacity of people who tried to take advantage of a generous humanitarian. We can’t imagine having a friend that we trust only to find out later their only interest was in what we could do for them or give them—money, attention, vicarious fame, status, prestige, or other ways that we try to fill the empty holes where we feel inadequate. Most of us have never had to deal with a perpetual queue of leaches in our lives. Would it make you mistrust  everybody? Would it make you withdraw? Would the betrayal scar you? Would it make you painfully lonely? Can you even imagine it? To be the most famous, visible man in the Universe and be able to trust no one? To never let your hair down because tomorrow whatever you said might be a headline, is just sad.

Was it when Michael began to be really sexy? Was it his sexiness that upset us? Was it his command of the stage? He was maybe too polished? Too much a stellar showman? Michel loved being an entertainer. He loved giving people joy, providing a transcendental experience and taking people places they’d never been before. Performing was Michael’s way of giving, of loving. He lived for the stage. Maybe he only lived on the stage!

Was it because Michael was so humble? We couldn’t seem to grasp that someone with his power and stature in the world could be so humble. Did he contradict our expectations? Did his innocence and humility disappoint us? Did we begin to hate him because we couldn’t hate him? Was it the juxtaposition of Michael that caused our consternation? Was he way too sophisticated for the soft voiced, embarrassed and childlike person he was off stage?  Was it that we couldn’t reconcile the contradiction?

Was it the childhood thing? Were we all so furious at losing our own innocence that how dare he remind us of that pain? Do you remember your first taste of the adult world? Do you remember the moment you realized there was no turning back into the childhood that insulated you from the harsh realities of the world that you were about to inherit? Michael Jackson had a full time job when he was 5 years old. By the time he made his first solo album, “Off the Wall” he was a fifteen year veteran of show business. If you had missed your childhood and you had the resources to recreate it for yourself, would you?

The hours and hours of practice, rehearsals, recording, touring, promoting, being in the limelight precluded having any real life or friends or childhood. Is it any wonder Michael built Neverland to be able to make up for the childhood he lost? He built Neverland because he could. The fifteen plus years of hard work and lost engagement in life brought money—so was Neverland a trade off? Lose your life and you gain a theme park? Then begin to re-live the life you never had while people criticize you for it? Michael used his money to build a magical place for children and his staff hosted children from every kind of background and circumstance. They came to Neverland to escape the harsh realities of everyday demands and life and strife. Was it when Michael built Neverland that we began to hate him? He couldn’t hang out in parks or Disneyland or other places that people go to have fun and for entertainment because the crowds would swarm him or disrupt whatever was going on. So he built a sanctuary of magic to escape the world behind his own gates. Is that reason to resent him? To call him strange and bizarre? To hate him for having things that we want but elude us?

Maybe that’s it—we wanted to slap him hard and say “grow up, the rest of us had to! Why should you be able to escape the harsh realities of the real world?” Was that it? Or were we somehow jealous of what he had? What he had gained? Because he earned it? He traded his life for his fame. Would you be willing to make that trade? Could you take on the burden of everyone’s shadow? Could you bear up under its weight?

Was it because Michael kept pointing out the world’s flaws? The places where the world could be better? Did we resent his constant admonitions because we were too busy with our own lives to care about others? Did he make us feel too responsible? Too guilty?

Was it Michael’s attraction? His magnetism? Did males see him as a rival for the affections of their women? Did Michael make them want a peeing contest? Did he evoke a mark-the-territory mentality?

What made Michael such a lightening rod? And what makes him such a lightening rod still?

Is it because Michael was not afraid to say “I love you?” He said it to every audience he worked with. He said “God bless you” when thanking someone or acknowledging a kindness. Was it because sometimes those tears he cried on stage were real? Oh sure, some of it was shtick but Michael, when deeply touched or emotionally affected, cried real tears. Was that too girly-man for us? Not macho enough? Was it because he wasn’t the hard-edged male but the androgynous charming boy-man? Women loved Michael. Was that a threat? Did that evoke the wrath of the warrior?

What if Michael Jackson precisely met the definition of a true innocent? What if Michael was precisely what Jesus was referring to when he said “like a child?” Were we mad because little Michael dared to grow up and adult Michael didn’t want to? Just what is it about the adult world that is so attractive? Is it the wars? The poverty? The hunger? The cynicism? The way adults treat each other? What is it that would make us want to grow up? Don’t you remember Disney movies, the world of fantasy and magic? Who would want to leave that? For what? Only to inherit a broken world? A world with broken people who are too far out from childhood to remember their own joy and wonder? A world that is full of terrorism and racism and sexism and nationalism and all the other isms that divide people.

It’s not like Michael could change his profession. He was born to entertain. The music didn’t come from Michael, it came through him. He always said it came from God and that is more than obvious in his lyrics. How does one stop that faucet? It’s not like it can be capped off like a well. A calling has its way with you; it’s a force and it’s unstoppable. People forget that Michael was an actor, an entertainer, but first and foremost, an artist. He sculpted out of his creativity; he painted out of the creation impulse. Michael was mistaken for his art. Artists make art. Actors are not the characters they play in the movie; they exact a portrayal which is an art form. They immerse themselves in the character, in the form the art takes. People tend to forget that about Michael. He was a private person with a public persona. He didn’t like to talk that much because he was humble and easily embarrassed. He did not view himself as an orator; he knew he didn’t have the skills. So he performed as a gift to us. And somewhere along the way we threw the gift back in his face. Literally. He was gracious; the world wasn’t.

More than half the volumes that have been written about him since his death showcase a “tragic” figure, a “tragic” life and a failed human being. Is that a thinly veiled confession of personal and collective ineptitude? An admission of personal impotence? There was nothing tragic about Michael Jackson; the tragedy was in how the man suffered at the hands of others—the families whose children benefitted from his generosity and love and then turned on him to gouge him for money, sycophants who surrounded him, the yes-men and women who enabled him, the tabloid industry that destroyed his reputation, the media that hunted him and cornered him like an animal, the doctors who saw dollar signs instead of a human being, the former friends and employees with “tell all” books and interviews financed with blood money, the necrophiliacs who continue to view him through a constructed tabloid lens while feeding off his corpse. No, the tragedy is not Michael; the tragedy is the inhumanity of the world.

The only thing that could explain the amount of shadow that followed Michael around this planet is to understand how much light he embodied and anchored here. It’s a universal law that huge light energy coalesced attracts huge darkness. And whenever we are asked to change the space we are familiar with and comfortable in, we respond as though it is torture. In fact, the chemical reaction in the body mimics torture. Michael likely threatened people who were comfortable, or afraid, or who feel inadequate because he represents in a major way, what he-she-we-they are not. Michael saw the worlds’ needs as a responsibility for all of us. Perhaps we weren’t ready to hear his message.

Michael tried to change the world and recruit us to help him. That is the legacy he leaves this world. He delivered a message and he modeled how it’s done—use whatever means available to lure them in; speak whatever language necessary to be heard; use parable to cloak the message and deliver it with wham! And do all of that with no regard for self. That is selfless sacrifice. And no matter how badly the world treated him, Michael never gave up on us. He was planning to do it again—to come back to bring a little love into the world. To remind us that we need to save this planet and its people. To remind us that we are better than this. That we are the world. To encourage us to do it. We can make a change; we can change the world. Maybe Michael was such a lightening rod because he asked us to wake up. To do something! To look at ourselves, something that’s not always pretty. He asked us to understand that we are the ones we have been waiting for. He wanted to remind us of our inner brilliance just one more time. He wanted to remind us that we are love. We need a reminder. Michael tried all his life to remind us. In fact, he died trying.