Part deux....
Michael Jackson is dead. I'm saddened...but I'm not suprised. I was one of the few people that saw Michael as a tortured soul who would eventually self destruct. It sounds callous to the sensitive, but the truth of the matter is Michael Jackson' life was more painful and pressure-filled than any of ours may ever be. I knew Michael would eventually succumb to it.
Branded as a child molester, a self hating psycho, and the weirdest black man alive, Michael Jackson suffered the slings and arrows of Black America's oppression. The type of self-destructing attitude that gives us the "crabs in a barrel" mentality more than we'd like to admit 90% of the time. Phonte from Little Brother said it best on his Myspace blog (http://2dopeboyz.okayplayer.com/2009/06/30/phonte-my-hero-aint-molest-them-bitch-ass-kids-blog/) however, I still feel the need to speak on it...
Michael Jackson was the James Brown of our generation. For every hit that James Brown had that made us proud to be black, Michael Jackson has one. (Occasionally with an avant-garde look.) The dance moves, the extravagant clothes and shows, the crossover success. Michael Jackson built upon the legacy of James Brown, Jackie Wilson, Frankie Lymon, and Sam Cooke and took our natural gifts worldwide prompting both admiration from the likes of Usher and emulation from Justin Timberlake and Robin Thicke.
The world mourns this black man. Yes, this black man. Stricken with vitiligo and forced to live a life under a microscope of speculation from detractors both black and white that would claim that he hated his skin color and chose to bleach himself. Those that questioned his Super Bowl performance...asking questions like, "Why didn't he pick up a black baby?"
Michael Jackson bore the weight of his own talent and our unrelenting, unrealistic, and at times ludicrous expectations from our black leaders, figureheads, entertainers, and ICONS. This ICON lived a life of immense talent and constant ridicule from his own people.
While I participated in the traditional Michael Jackson jokes along with many others, I never truly gave credence to the allegations lobbied against him...I'm sure many will say that's easy to say after the fact, but I don't care. I have the records (not CDs) to prove my fanhood. LOL!
I still remember laying in bed as a child listening to the song Ben over and over after one of my childhood friends passed away. No tears came, because I probably didn't fully understand death...as I don't really understand it today at 25...however, I knew that Ben had to be an expression of friendship in the musical form. I remember my parents getting me out of bed for one of their ghetto get-togethers and having me imitate Michael Jackson for company. Michael Jackson gave me my love of dancing, human body mechanics, and emotional music. For that I will be eternally grateful.
R.I.P. Michael Jackson...you will be forever known as The King of Pop
Saturday, July 04, 2009
July 4th... (A double post day...)
POST 1: STEVE MCNAIR
At approximately 4:32 p.m. ET today...I found out Steve McNair had been killed. A tightness in my chest exists that is somewhat unfamiliar in terms of sadness. The reason it is unfamiliar is because I did not know the man. I never shared a laugh with him, never had a conversation with him, and never shook his hand. Honestly, I had not ever been in the same vicinity as Steve "Air" McNair. Believe it or not though, Steve McNair had a little bit of an impact on my development as a young black male...
The year was 1994, and I was a young little league quarterback with dreams of playing college football. Steve McNair was in his senior season at Alcorn State. Week in and week out, I found myself with my hands under the center, reading the defense, pretending to be Steve McNair on every single play. I did not look up to the professional quarterbacks of the day. I was completely enamored by the athletic play and sheer ability of this black man 10 years my senior.
On my teams bye week, my parents took me to see Miles College football games. My parents being alumnae of Miles, I naturally was predisposed to have an affinity for the school. Visions of wearing a purple jersey with a gold helmet as a 20 year old danced in my head. I dreamed of taking Miles College to a notoriety unheard of by the alumni or the student body. Dreams, although ultimately deferred for a number of reasons, were sparked by one man. Steve "Air" McNair.
Steve McNair stood on the shoulders of giants...Doug Williams from Grambling and Warren Moon. He was a black man unhampered by the norms of professional footballs traditional offensive schemes and quarterback archetypes. He was the link from Randall Cunningham to (*sigh*) Michael Vick. A quarterback that could run AND throw, one who relished contact, and could read/pick apart a defense as good as any quarterback to touch a football...
While knee injuries and size disparities kept me from fulfilling my dream of playing football, the knee problems more than anything, I still maintained an affinity for Steve McNair and tentativley followed his career. I pray that his legacy, toughness, ability, and determination to be a strong black quarterback is passed on to some 10 or 11 year old boy with a pair shoulder pads and cleats...that straps up his chinstrap every day of the football and dreams of taking Grambling, Howard, Tennessee State, Morehouse, Clark-Atlanta, Tuskegee, Miles, Albany State, or any other HBCU to a place of national athletic recognition. More importantly...I pray that that same child...dares to dream...
God Bless The McNair Family
At approximately 4:32 p.m. ET today...I found out Steve McNair had been killed. A tightness in my chest exists that is somewhat unfamiliar in terms of sadness. The reason it is unfamiliar is because I did not know the man. I never shared a laugh with him, never had a conversation with him, and never shook his hand. Honestly, I had not ever been in the same vicinity as Steve "Air" McNair. Believe it or not though, Steve McNair had a little bit of an impact on my development as a young black male...
The year was 1994, and I was a young little league quarterback with dreams of playing college football. Steve McNair was in his senior season at Alcorn State. Week in and week out, I found myself with my hands under the center, reading the defense, pretending to be Steve McNair on every single play. I did not look up to the professional quarterbacks of the day. I was completely enamored by the athletic play and sheer ability of this black man 10 years my senior.
On my teams bye week, my parents took me to see Miles College football games. My parents being alumnae of Miles, I naturally was predisposed to have an affinity for the school. Visions of wearing a purple jersey with a gold helmet as a 20 year old danced in my head. I dreamed of taking Miles College to a notoriety unheard of by the alumni or the student body. Dreams, although ultimately deferred for a number of reasons, were sparked by one man. Steve "Air" McNair.
Steve McNair stood on the shoulders of giants...Doug Williams from Grambling and Warren Moon. He was a black man unhampered by the norms of professional footballs traditional offensive schemes and quarterback archetypes. He was the link from Randall Cunningham to (*sigh*) Michael Vick. A quarterback that could run AND throw, one who relished contact, and could read/pick apart a defense as good as any quarterback to touch a football...
While knee injuries and size disparities kept me from fulfilling my dream of playing football, the knee problems more than anything, I still maintained an affinity for Steve McNair and tentativley followed his career. I pray that his legacy, toughness, ability, and determination to be a strong black quarterback is passed on to some 10 or 11 year old boy with a pair shoulder pads and cleats...that straps up his chinstrap every day of the football and dreams of taking Grambling, Howard, Tennessee State, Morehouse, Clark-Atlanta, Tuskegee, Miles, Albany State, or any other HBCU to a place of national athletic recognition. More importantly...I pray that that same child...dares to dream...
God Bless The McNair Family
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