I am no Michael Jackson fan Pam Pastor Philippine Daily Inquirer
July 04, 2009
MANILA, Philippines – Last Friday, like everyone else, I woke up and was greeted with text messages all saying the same thing: Michael Jackson is dead.
I did not pass on the news. One, I figured everyone else already knew. And two, waking people up with morbid news isn’t my style.
A few minutes later, my brother checked his mobile phone and asked, still half-asleep, “Patay na raw si Michael Jackson [Is Michael Jackson dead]?”
“Oo [Yes],” I replied.
“Sh*t!” he said, then promptly fell back to sleep.
A few minutes later, my mother walked past. “Ma, patay na si Michael Jackson [Michael Jackson is dead].”
“Oh, my God, bakit [why]?!” she reacted as though Michael Jackson were a relative.
All day long, people kept repeating the news and all day long, people kept reacting like my mother. Suddenly, every person I knew was a Michael Jackson fan.
I was the minority.
I was never a Michael Jackson fan. And his death did not change that.
Flashback
I was a kid who grew up in the ’80s. But I never felt the need to learn how to moonwalk. I didn’t feel any desire to wear gloves. And I will die not knowing the steps to “Thriller.”
Still, I couldn’t deny that Michael Jackson was a part of my life. I still know the words to “Heal the World”—we had to learn it for school. I did love the song “You Are Not Alone” and because this was before the advent of the Internet. And because song hits were unreliable, I transcribed the lyrics while listening to the cassette tape. When Michael Jackson came here for his two-night concerts in 1996, I was with my cousins in a condominium across the concert venue, watching the show for free.
Over the years, without really making any conscious effort to, I bore witness to Michael Jackson’s life—Neverland, Lisa Marie Presley; accusations of child molestation; marriages and divorces; the birth of his children; his dangling his youngest child outside the balcony; his ever-changing appearance; the comeback concerts that never will be.
TV shows, magazines, foreign tabloids, the paparazzi and the Internet made sure I knew what was going on in his life.
But that was the thing about Michael Jackson. You didn’t have to be a fan to get your dose of him. He was always there, everywhere. His songs are still constantly played, even before his demise. The last five books I’ve read all contained Michael Jackson references, and I’m betting the next one I will read will include his name, too.
Connie, the adorable little girl on “Britain’s Got Talent,” sang “Ben.” Jennifer Garner made a whole party dance to “Thriller” in the movie “13 Going on 30.” I saw his wax likeness, at Madame Tussauds. I watched a Michael Jackson impersonator onstage in Vegas.
We play “Beat It” on Guitar Hero. My friend’s seven-year-old nephew dressed up as Michael Jackson during his recent birthday party. Forget the Jonas Brothers, he’s Michael Jackson all the way.
It doesn’t matter in which decade you were born, it doesn’t matter where you’re from, it doesn’t matter if you like him or not—you cannot escape Michael Jackson. Truth is, it’s not such a bad thing. Because despite the freak show and all the crazy things that have been said about him, the music is good.
Bigger
Michael Jackson was big and his death made him bigger.
While news about autopsies, child custody concerns and his debt spread like wildfire, his albums and DVDs started flying off the shelves again, and he became the No.1 hit on both eBay and Amazon. On IMDb.com, his popularity is up by 93,650 percent. And that doesn’t sound like an exaggeration.
Google and Twitter reported technical difficulties following a spike in Michael Jackson-related posts and searches. Facebook was swamped with Michael Jackson links and status messages—from expressions of grief and song lyrics to pictures and memorable quotes from him. He was all the Internet could think about.
The sudden resurfacing of so many Michael Jackson fans made me wonder where they were before his death. Did they defend him when he was being accused of child molestation? Were they affected by news of his debts and when he almost lost Neverland? Or, are these people merely jumping onto the grief bandwagon?
This outpouring of love came too late, much too late to save a man who, despite his fame, was painted by many as a sad person—lonely, misunderstood, scared and insecure.
I’ve heard people declare that fame killed Michael Jackson. That maybe a regular life could have saved him. Maybe, if he never left his hometown and, instead of taking the stage, he worked at Wal-Mart in Gary, Indiana, he’d be alive and healthy now -- and married, with kids.
But there was nothing normal about Michael Jackson’s life -- not his childhood, not his fame, not his death.
Icon
Michael Jackson was not just a musical icon. He was an icon of what is different, if not deviant. And it makes sense to think that people took strange comfort in that.
He has been a constant in our world all this time, so much so that you started to think he’d be here forever. Perhaps that’s what made his death so shocking. It was a jolt of reality—that he is as human—and as mortal—as you and me.
When you think about it, maybe death saved Michael Jackson. Not just from debt, from pesky photographers, from the unwanted limelight, but from his own haunted existence. And maybe he’s finally at peace.
But his music will keep on playing.
Michael Jackson may be dead but his reign is far from over. And this outpouring of love, albeit too late, will continue. I don’t need to be a fan to know that.
