Author: Barry Michael Cooper
"Michael Jackson's untimely death has dimmed the world's understanding of him. America created a man who hated the world, his spirit, and his outspokenness that connected the entire world. He never fought back against those who accused him without evidence. He refused to engage in firefights with those who beautified him. Michael Jackson did not die from a life of luxury and debauchery. Michael loved all children and people on this earth; he shared his love and pain with us, conveying through his final performances that love can overcome everything. He told us that love is everywhere, despite enduring immense suffering, yet he transcended it all, delivering love to the whole world—not to any specific religion or race. Michael Jackson stood for global unity; his existence was all about love and healing the world, not hatred." — Carl S. Taylor, Ph.D., Sociologist, Michigan State University (Jackson family bodyguard during the 1979 Destiny World Tour)
Dear Michael,
You are finally laid to rest. You have finally found peace, far from the media's pursuit, away from criminals and soul-corrupters, and also far from this living, dishonorable "Mad Celebrity Paradise," filled with criminal undertones, the sweet smell of corrupt angels' desires, their whispered rumors emanating from between their teeth, which made you weep every night. But now, you no longer need to worry; that pain has ended.
Mike, now you have received God's favor, as the talent-filled and brutally honest Tracy Morgan said: "The world keeps changing, but today’s world is without Michael. But one thing we can be sure of is that he is now in heaven singing for Abraham, for Christ. He is now also singing for God. Just as we needed him, God needs him even more."
Two weeks later, in Manhattan's Brooklyn Hope Mother Park (Sunday, August 29, 2009), Spike Lee and Keistar Company organized an event.
It was to celebrate your 51st birthday, Mike. Over twenty thousand people braved the rain to attend this event. They didn’t come to figure out what happened in the last few hours, minutes, or seconds of your life.
Twenty thousand fans, Mike, regardless of being black, white, Latino, fat or thin, short or tall, straight or gay, their lives have been moved by your music for nearly half a century. They came to thank you for your music, your talent, your generosity, for the joy and inspiration you brought us, even when you were sometimes in the shadow of death.
Just like Reverend Alpton's moving speech in the park that day: "Celebrating Michael is celebrating our best mile." Reverend Alpton received thunderous applause from the crowd. He continued: "When he was born, the caste system and racial discrimination were unbreakable. When he left, he broke those boundaries, redefined the meaning of music, changed classes, transcended races—he was 'Bad,' he 'Beat It,' he was Michael Jackson."
"People do not fear the future, we must change the future."
— U.S. President Barack Obama, September 9, 2009, Congress focusing on health proposals
Twenty-six years ago, before "Thriller" became unstoppable, selling over twenty million copies in the United States alone, something as monumental as "Thriller" had no fear for the future; it shaped our world today. In other words, Michael, "Thriller" was like Martin Luther King's dream, produced by you and Quincy Jones, packaged by Epic Records, promoted by MTV, and devoured hungrily by people across seven continents.
"Moonwalker" wasn't just a simple dance film, "Billie Jean" meant far more than just a song, and "Thriller" carried strong political undertones. A black person sold more records than Sinatra, Elvis, The Beatles, and The Rolling Stones combined, speaking to that kind heart within all of us.
"Thriller" was compensation for every African-American artist whose songs were always stolen. Like Sam Cooke, who dreamed of having his own career in the late 1950s, "Thriller's" success far exceeded our wildest imaginations.
"Thriller" took equality a step further. During Reagan's time, amidst racial disparities, it surpassed Washington D.C., reaching millions of households across America and around the world. We danced together, regardless of skin color—that was your vision of "One World," the "Rhythm Kingdom" you and Janet formed at the time.
Only the King of Pop could bring all this together.
"Thriller" was the social, emotional, and cultural barometer of the 1980s. It paved the way for Oprah Winfrey, Michael Jordan, Jesse Jackson, Spike Lee, and others, helping Spike Lee open the door to Hollywood and bringing a golden era for African-Americans in Hollywood (1986-1995). It inspired Joe Don Neal's controversial book "Post Soul Nation" (2005). Without the immense success of "Thriller," would we have elected Barack Obama as President in 2007? "Thriller" made this happen twenty years earlier.
"Tell me where my rights went
You look at me as if I don't exist anymore? You promised me freedom
I'm tired of being a victim of conspiracy
They slander me recklessly
I can't believe this is the land that raised me
I just want to say
They really don't care about us"
— Michael Jackson, "They Don't Really Care About Us," *HIStory* (1996)
Michael, it was so fitting that Spike Lee served as the organizer and host of your Brooklyn celebration in 1996. In the 1980s, as America struggled with the worsening vortex of racial tensions, both you and Spike were transformative figures in the global entertainment industry. Looking back, it was only right that Spike directed two versions of the MV for your boldest political song, "They Don't Really Care About Us."
I remember in 1996, the words "Jew me" and "kike me" in your song caused a social uproar. I don't think you were insulting Jews. I believe you were trying to awaken people to their unconscious prejudices. At the time, I wondered if saying, "nigger. trigger/native son/like Bigger," would have sparked the same intense anger in the media.
In 2009, the crucial debate point was: in one of the two MVs directed by Spike for "They Don't Really Care About Us," you played an ordinary prisoner, and the walls of the double cell displayed the horrifying image of Rodney King being beaten. In another MV: it related to the poor favelas of Rio de Janeiro, Brazil—your version of "Do the Right Thing" (Spike Lee's classic movie from 1989).
The horrific case in 1993, accusing you of unimaginable abuse of children, tried to strip you of your dignity. Despite the charges being dropped due to lack of evidence, it served as a wake-up call, Michael. It woke you up, and all of us, revealing the harsh truth that even the King of Pop—with record sales dominating the charts—and the world's biggest pop star, was still treated as a "nigger."
Mike, so you replaced "nigger" with "Jew" in the lyrics because "race" as a topic in our country's public discourse will forever remain third-class. This means using an ugly word to stir up a commotion in society. Mike, you could just as easily use words like illegal aliens (Mexican immigrants), Irishmen, lesbians, gays, Chinamen, Nordic Americans, poor whites, or guys with turbans in your lyrics.
The idea you and Spike Lee wanted to convey (just like the scene Spike designed in "Do the Right Thing," where each member of the ethnic groups in Brooklyn breaks the fourth wall, directly reciting racist slurs to the audience, as if our ignorant fears form a distorted mirror) is that marginalization—regardless of its label—has a destructive force on the human spirit.
Mike, what I saw at your 51st birthday party under the stars was quite the opposite—a massive gathering of loyal fans—your extended family—collected in Prospect Park. This immense power came from our feeling your love—it was like a giant Woodstock music festival. I dare say, it was the first Mike-Stock music festival (the author coined the term based on Woodstock).
Mike, you were there when the sun went down halfway through the celebration. Coincidentally, it was DJ Starina playing The Beatles' "Here Comes The Sun" (I know you liked those ironic coincidences, the sunlight breaking through the clouds, and Paul McCartney's connection with ATV music rights).
At Spike's memorial reception, you were present when I asked him what you symbolized to America, and Spike replied: "Michael meant a lot to global culture, his greatness wasn't limited to America."
You were there when Tracy Morgan humorously mimicked one of your dance moves on stage in the TV show "30 Rock." You were there when Ed Lover and Free led everyone in singing "Can You Feel It," and when artist Lemon greatly stirred the audience's emotions with his tribute on your birthday.
"I remember a time when the murder rate dropped because street thugs were all at home watching Michael and Eddie Murphy perform 'Remember The Time.'"
Mike, you were there when former, passionate, and future Brooklyn councilman Keith Powers told me how you became his first African-American American hero when you performed at the Motown 25th anniversary gala in 1983. You were there when we sang passionately along to "Wanna Be Startin' Somethin'" with its iconic "mama say/mama sah/mama/ma cusa" refrain (by the way, I think you cleverly paid homage to Manu Dibango's "Soul Makossa" in that chant).
Finally, Mike, on this ominous day, September 11 night, I want to thank Spike, Brooklyn, and everyone, and you, Michael Joseph Jackson, for making it a blessed Saturday. I will never forget that day. That's what I wanted to share with you all on my blog. I can watch this celebration over and over again.
God's blessing, twenty thousand fans gathered together, singing, dancing, laughing, and crying. Five hundred genuine New York police officers were there, but the only thing that could capture our hearts was the beat of your genius music. A few weeks ago, a phrase kept echoing in my mind, perfectly summarizing that day—it came from "Rock With You."
Though the music
Slowly fades away,
You know true love remains
We'll be dancing forever
Yours faithfully,
Barry Michael Cooper
Rest in peace, my friend.