Red Room Where the Writers Are

They put Michael Jackson in the ground today. You know already, of course, since every media outlet in the universe is standing by to share the experience and their opinions about it.

It's not my intention to share my opinion about Michael here. Like most contemplations of other human beings, it's complex and contradictory (and private). 

But I think holding a mirror to Michael's life, and death, tells us a lot about America.

In America, we define our own heroes and assign the bright, intense lights of fame to a chosen few. Perhaps it's because America has no royal family and, in this day and age, a much more malleable class structure. We find our idols and we ask a great deal of them. They must be everything to us - our entertainers, our role models, our leaders. 

Jackson's life and death speak volumes to the boundaries of race that still exist in this culture. Black Americans have embraced Jackson in life and in death. The Revs. Jesse Jackson and Al Sharpton have been (to quote a Jackson song) working overtime to address mourners and give Jackson's life definition.

The reaction to Jackson's death and controversial life definitely tells a story of race in America. Though their situations are different, many people watching the aftermath of Jackson's death are having a deja vu moment and recall another African-American celebrity: O.J. Simpson.

The perception of Simpson's life, and the belief of Simpson's presumed guilt or innocence in the murder of his ex-wife and her friend, was often along racial lines: African-Americans fervently believed his innocence, while white folks were more likely to assume his guilt. 

Jackson's life is a fascinating study about how Americans feel about Otherness. We are a people who, despite our independent nature and frontier spirit, struggle desperately to put everything in its place and to have a sense of home and belonging (a universal human need). When we're confronted with the specter of Otherness, we feel at best uncomfortable and at worst, jealous or threatened.

Michael's original Otherness - race - gave way to more significant examples of Otherness: his changing appearance, his clothing, his unconventional speaking and singing voice. Regardless of the reality of Jackson's life, he was widely perceived to be gay - one of the biggest and most uncomfortable channels of Otherness that exists.

And when he was accused - more than once - of molesting a teenage boy, the Otherness overshadowed his career and his accomplishments for many people.

I was struck at how many people set aside their discomfort about Jackson, his otherness and the scandals when Michael died. In death, those controversies appeared to dissipate, allowing people to remember Jackson as he was. 

Michael Jackson's life and death may be an American story; unfortunately, it's not a new one. The press has been eager to compare his death to Princess Diana, and for sheer intensity, the canvas on which his life and death has been writ is similar. But Jackson shares his story - and the unhappy premature ending - with two other American icons, Judy Garland and Elvis Presley.

All three became famous at a young age because of their voices and their undeniable talent. All three were elevated past mere fame to an iconography that made a lot of people a lot of money - and turned each of them into scared, nervous human beings who lived their lives in a blinding light under a microscope. All three would have personal challenges that eventually overshadowed their talents and accomplishments. And all three met an unhappy, drug-induced ending (Jackson's death happening almost 40 years to the day after Garland's). 

I couldn't watch the memorial service - I didn't know him, after all. We may have known his name, his music and the sound of his voice, but I doubt many of us KNEW who he was, or what he really felt or thought. We just knew that Michael Jackson was a singing and dancing machine that entertained us on command. 

And in America, when our machines stop working, we discard them. We dismantle them, piece by piece, and build something new. And when we lose the element that made that machine special, we mourn its passing and sell tickets to its departure. 

As Keith Olbermann said last week, "This circus is gonna be in town for awhile." Michael Jackson the person may be gone, but Michael Jackson the industry is furiously revving its engine for one last world tour.

Don't stop 'till you get enough - this is, after all, America.