The Man in the Mirror

I've never been a huge Michael Jackson fan. Sure, I've enjoyed his music, but I never bought one of his albums, never went to a concert of his. And yet, like so many, I was stunned and shocked by his untimely passing at the age of 50.

As a child of the 80s, his music was a part of the soundtrack of my childhood. I remember watching MTV at my friends' houses and marveling at his music videos. I'm sure I recorded a song or two of his off the radio for my mix tape collection. I danced around in my room to his songs. And, like every one else, I was increasingly disturbed by his transformation from a handsome young black man to an ethnically ambiguous caricature of a human figure. The lightened skin, the continued plastic surgery - it was all so bizarre. And as a child and then as a teenager, it made no sense. As an adult, however, it became clear that what we, the public, were seeing on the outside was a representation of the pain and disfigurement on the inside. Stories emerged from interviews with Michael himself, as well as family members and those who knew him, about physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his father, Joe. His immense talent - the very key to his fame and fortune - seemed to be the trigger for his father's driving him like slave to rehearse and perform. Rather than statements of love and approval, young Michael heard insults about his nose and the darkness of his skin. His talent, which brought him the love and admiration of a worldwide audience, only caused his father to push him more, to isolate him more, to abuse him more. And no one stood up to protect Michael. Is it any surprise that he became a man who could not survive as an adult? Is it any surprise that he became a man who could not see the beauty in himself and instead subjected himself to countless cosmetic procedures in order to achieve "perfection?" That little boy who had seemed to have everything, in truth, didn't even have the basic thing most children have: the love, acceptance, and protection of a parent.

That is the tragedy of Michael Jackson's life. His greatest gift was the reason for his downfall. And what is so tragic is that every day, we see that others are not heeding the moral of Michael Jackson's story, that there are still parents who treat their children not as a special gift to protect and nurture, but as a meal ticket to exploit and sell. There are still parents who see their children as a means to an end, and not a joy to cherish for its own rewards.

My favorite Michael Jackson song is "Man in the Mirror." In it, he talks about the need for change to start with each person looking at himself or herself and making a commitment "to make that change" starting with that "man in the mirror." It is so sad that when Michael Jackson looked at the man in the mirror, he saw the distorted image painted for him by his father, and not the one the rest of the world saw. Rest in peace, Michael. I sincerely wish you had found that peace while here on Earth.