The more I think about Michael Jackson, the more upset I become. The more upset I become, the more angry I get. Even though I've never met him, I feel his pain and understand more than what most people are willing to recognize. I'll start with his childhood. Michael was singing ever since he could talk. And having Joe Jackson as a father obviously was not an easy task. This post is not meant to lay blame on or point a finger at his father, but I, like most people I am sure, can relate to having a controlling and demanding parent. Outside of school, the only other thing in Michael's life was music and his four older brothers. That's all he knew. Singing, performing, and dancing had to be perfect or else people wouldn't "accept" him. And as long as the public was "accepting" Michael, life was fine because his father was pleased. Anything less than perfect would be a disgrace in Michael's eyes because it would have been a disgrace in his fathers' eyes, thus the public eye. Imagine living a life in the public eye from early childhood until your death. I certainly wouldn't want to live a life like his. Here's how I can relate to Michael. My mother was constantly telling me and my sister that we had to be perfect, get good grades, and become somebody or otherwise no one would "accept" us. It was ingrained in our minds that our family and "so called friends" were waiting to see us fail. Therefore, me and my sister had to get great grades. It wasn't an option. There was no room for error or failure. If you weren't number one, then you were nothing. The only thing I knew as a child was constant studying and in my spare time the only other thing I had was music. Music helped me escape. It helped me to cope with the abuse we were receiving from our mother. I can remember more childhood songs than I can any other part of my childhood. That's just how much of a blur my childhood is to me. The minute my grades began to slip in high school, I felt like the world was tumbling down. I truly believed I would become nothing, my family and "so called friends" would criticize me, and all I wanted to do was die. I was 14 years old and I was crying and screaming to my daddy that I didn't want to live and I wanted to die all because my grades were less than perfect. I kept telling him that I wanted to die while he tried to calm me down until I finally fell asleep. I understand how Michael felt when not only the public, but a parent places that much pressure on you as a child.
Since Michael's passing, so much about his mental and physical health has surfaced. I've known for a few months now that he suffered with a pulmonary disease; which for an entertainer is not only damaging to your health, its also damaging to your career. The Micheal we've been seeing on tv was probably no more. His health was deteriorating along with his career; which leads me to his mental health. At the height of his career, Michael was "accepted" by everyone. The WORLD loved him. There wasn't a single part of the entire globe that had never heard of or seen Michael Jackson. How many artists can actually say that. Then came all the stories about his skin tone, his sex life, and of course, the allegations of child molestation. After the second allegation that resulted in an acquittal, I said to myself then that Michael would kill himself. The reason why I said that was because Michael was too busy trying to regain his popularity and "acceptance" of the public. However, there was nothing he could do, say, or sing to change, slow down, or stop the constant criticism. Everyday this man was called weird, a molester, "Wacko Jacko," or some other stupid name just to sell a damn magazine to a bunch of ignorant ass people who don't have anything better to do with their damn selves but enjoy reading about someone else's downfall. Also there was the matter of not having the same cash flow coming in anymore. Michael was in more debt than any of us could ever imagine. From this day forward I will stop complaining about my student loans. I'm sure if that's all Michael had to worry about, he would have been happy to trade lives with any of us. This man had insurmountable obstacles in his life. One obstacle after the other. Then there's the side called lonely. My sister couldn't understand why Michael felt so lonely and never found a woman to settle down with considering all of his older brothers did. I told her that was the reason. I explained it to her like this. For the longest, it was just me and my sister. She was the only other person who understood what it was like growing up on Leonidas Street with our mother. Just like Michael and his older brothers knew what it was like growing up in Gary, Indiana with Joe Jackson. Then all of sudden, his brothers got married one by one, and started their own families; which more than likely left Michael feeling alone. All Michael had left was his career. Music was all he knew considering that's all he did since childhood. My sister was all I knew, and when she got married and had a child, I felt alone. It was no longer me and my sister. It was just me and my career. That's all I had and it was all I was taught to achieve since childhood. And here I am a 35 year old woman, with no children, no husband, and a career. I often feel like I don't fit in anywhere because my friends and family have achieved what is socially "acceptable" in life-getting married and having a family.
Then there's the depression factor. Some of the pills that Michael was taking, I've taken or am taking. My brother in law said, "Wasn't he taking Zoloft, that crazy people medicine?" That right there is the reason why Michael probably never shared his pain or the medication he was taking with anybody. Comments like that keep me from talking about how tough it is for me to battle depression. If I wasn't taking Cymbalta, my ass would probably be dead now. Even though Michael may have been taking anti-depressants, and a combination of other drugs, I blame that doctor who helped Michael kill himself. Michael knew at the age of 50 that there was no way he could perform anymore. After having endured being burned, falling off of a stage, breaking bones, and having a pulmonary disease, he knew his performing days were over, and I'm sure in his mind that also meant his life was over. I'm almost certain that Michael would rather be dead than to let people see him in a condition outside of what the world was accustomed to seeing.
On so many levels, I understand his pain. I understand his constant unhappiness with himself. I understand why it was so important to always be perfect. And if you can't be pleasing to anyone, then what's the sense in living? So the only thing Michael could "accept" was a desire to no longer live. In other words, if he couldn't be perfect, then he wouldn't "accept" anything less than that; which meant give him death. This is why I'm taking his death so hard. Michael inspired me to want to dance. He inspired me to learn all there was about charisma when it came to dance and rhythm. He inspired me to listen to the meaning of the lyrics and feel the joy or pain the artist was conveying. For instance, in his song Wanna Be Startin' Somethin', he says, "You're a vegetable, still they hate you, you're a vegetable, you're just a buffet, you're a vegetable, they eat off of you, you're a vegetable." Translation: Michael is the vegetable. Vegetables are good for you. And even though Michael/the vegetable is good to you or for you, still they hate you. Like Michael with his money/vegetables, he was a buffet for greedy, money hungry people who ate off of him/the vegetable.
So I will end this post quoting lyrics to Michael from that same song. Anybody who wants to learn more about music would already know that these lyrics were not written with the song. They were ad libbed when Michael recorded it. To Michael I say, "Lift your head up high and scream out to the world I know I am someone and let the truth unfurl. No one can hurt you now because you know the truth. Yes, I believe in me so you believe in you."
Rest In Peace Michael...you certainly deserve to.
