What’s Up? with Merlene

Since Michael Jackson’s sudden death in Los Angeles on June 25, I’ve watched in amazement the number of black people who have rolled out of the woodwork waxing eloquent about him and claiming him as one of our own.
Yes, he was an exceptionally talented entertainer and should be honored for the influence he has had on the music of our era.
But I hesitate to claim him as a black man when he himself didn’t seem to embrace that label.
For some reason, we black folk have a need to publicly stake racial dibs on people if another race or culture can also present claims on them.
And there is no greater poster child for racial ambiguity than Michael Jackson. He has said for years that he had a skin disease called vitiligo, a rare condition that discolors the face and body, and affects 1 percent to 2 percent of the world’s population. I have no reason to doubt him.
But that disease wouldn’t also narrow the nose and lips or give the nose an upward turn that wasn’t there from birth.
And, more than anything else, it would not cause those with the disease to produce children who don’t bear the slightest resemblance to the offspring of a black man.
Along with many other demons he had yet to conquer, Michael Jackson had a problem being black.
He’s not alone. I know many, many black people who distance themselves from the negative effects of being black, especially in America. Each of us has to deal with racism as best we can.
The man in the mirror Michael saw was white. And that white man, when coupled with a white woman, can only produce white children. That’s how Michael dealt with it.
Does that detract from his genius? Of course not. Talent knows no color. Does that diminish his humanity? Why would it? We humans come in every color under the rainbow, just as God planned, and we all have our issues.
Michael Jackson simply wanted to be Michael Jackson, and he succeeded. There was no one else quite like him.
The problem with Jackson’s race is our problem, not his.
We black people raced to claim him as our own after his death when he had 50 years to claim his blackness and chose not to. We rushed to claim O.J. Simpson, too, during his murder trial and acquittal. I didn’t understand that either.
That need to weight the scales of famous black people on our side might stem from our need to bask in a positive media limelight for a change. Newspaper and electronic journalists of all kinds have devoted column inches and precious air time to Michael Jackson, his death, his children, his wealth or lack thereof, his past and his problems.
That is a diversion from the normal news of black people having much higher unemployment rates and imprisonment, illnesses, poverty and educational shortcomings.
Besides, if the world loves Michael Jackson, who was noticeably black in his early years, maybe they will love the rest of our race as well.
There seems to be a need to say, “See, he’s black and so are we. He was talented and so are we. He is loved, why aren’t we?”
This is the same Michael Jackson black folk derided when his skin faded and his nose and lips thinned. It’s the same one we talked about under our breath once we saw the first pictures of his children.
Maybe claiming him now, while the media is watching, will make up for the untold number of black children and black women who don’t make national news when they go missing.
Maybe claiming him now, while his death has brought such grief to so many, will make up for the deaths of other black men dismissed so easily.
Then again, maybe claiming Michael Jackson now is just our way of welcoming the prodigal son back home.
I choose to mourn Jackson’s passing as that of a troubled human being who didn’t seem to find personal solutions to a number of problems he had while on Earth.
Like Jackson said, it doesn’t matter if he was black or white. And it shouldn’t matter for anyone else, either.
May you finally rest in peace, Michael.

Excerpt from lyrics to ‘Black and White’ by Michael Jackson.
“See, it’s not about races
Just places
Faces
Where your blood
Comes from
Is where your space is
I’ve seen the bright
Get duller
I’m not going to spend
My life being a color.”