Clarity: Reflecting on Pop Icons, Part 1

Clarity: Reflecting on Pop Icons, Part 1
An Essay by: Sonjanita L. Moore © September 14, 2009

"Is that better? Can you see me now?"

The question Michael Jackson asked Madonna in 1991 after he removed his shades (at her request) early in their date night and she did see him not as a superstar, but as a HUMAN BEING! Do WE see our icons? As I watch Whitney Houston pour out her soul to Oprah Winfrey I keep coming back to this question. Do we WANT to really see them? Now, that is a better question. The LA Times article Oprah quoted criticizes Houston for destroying herself amid the horror of her fans, destroying the “national treasure” that lies within her. It makes me cringe, thinking of the way in which we claim the right to the personas, the gifts, the talents of our Great Ones. I cry for them…all of them. I cringe when I hear Whitney talk about wanting to be “normal” – how many times since June 25 have we heard that word that phrase? She wanted to be wild, to have passion, to live out her 20’s and 30’s just as we all did – as a person, not as a brand created by the industry, the general public and the media. I am sickened when I think of our icons (the ones I grew up on) and all that they went through on their journey to luminescence.

I think of Prince Rodgers Nelson and the turmoil of domestic violence, tattered relationships and lost babies that permeates every guitar riff! I think of Madonna Louise Ciccone’s desire to be a woman in the absence of a mother so she seemingly becomes the antagonist of the Holy Mother before our very eyes! The “Purple One” and the “Immaculate One” have managed to maintain steady careers amid personal turmoil and media headlines, but Michael and Whitney seemed to burst and fall like dying supernovas. What we didn’t realize…what we (the public) failed to recognize was that the light that shone around the world because of them was the light WE blew out…or the light we attempted to blow out. Each time they tried to be themselves, we criticized them or attacked them and each time they stared at us with fear and confusion – not understanding why we threw stones at them when they’d sacrificed so much of themselves to bring us joy. I can see them now – a symbolic vision nonetheless, but I can see them – raising their hands to shield themselves from our taunts, our jeers. Our words hit like bricks, like stones, like daggers.

So, they turned from us and went inward – to family, to friends, to lifestyles we now know were destructive. They wanted to “dim their lights,” as Oprah put it, but once God gave them the light, He mandated that they let it shine even if shining meant burning, blazing, crashing, sacrificing…again! To whom much is given, much is expected! King Michael once said, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Was this a clue to a life to come? Or a plea for understanding made even plainer in his lyrics to “Childhood”?

In this age of so-called Reality TV, perhaps we need more REAL talk that allows us to examine the burdens our icons…our so-called role models bear. What can we learn from their stories? Can we take a moment to listen before we pick up the next vengeful stone and throw it, spitefully, in their direction? Can we demand more of the industry that forces them to push the envelope to stay young, to stay vital, and to be relevant? Can we expect the media and so-called journalists to not only have ethics but to practice it daily in their reporting? What can we do to save our icons? What can we do to prevent the pointless death or destruction of another? Can we look back over the long continuum of artistic geniuses that we have raised and see where we failed them?

When did the “blessed child” named Eleanora Fagan get lost in the spotlights around Billie Holiday? When did Norma Jean die so that Marilyn could thrive, momentarily? How long did it take before Elvis Aaron’s “Blue Suede Shoes” took him so far away from Memphis that he couldn’t find his way home again? What could have been done to exorcise Ray’s demons before he sought out drugs? Was there a point where we could have kept Hendrix from “Touching the Sky” too soon? What could have been done to save Janis and Morrison? Did Christopher Wallace have to be “Born to Die”? What about hip hop’s “Shining Path”, son of a Black Panther? What was it that blew Trane’s life off track? Was the Moonwalker one intervention away from being saved? We may never know the answers, but maybe the questions will haunt us enough that we won’t ignore the warning signs the next time we see them!

In history classes, we learn of the Crusades, Puritanism and Genocide. We learn of the ways in which free thinkers, artists and intellectuals were tortured, punished, murdered and destroyed because they were seen as freaks, weirdoes, heretics or witches. We marvel at how the world could stand by and watch as these things happened while we sit idly by and watch icons be crucified everyday – line by line, byte by byte, joke by joke. We jab, poke and peel away at the layers until all that is left is the core, the heart, the HUMAN BEING, but by then, it’s often too late. As I look back over the ashes of the fire the world sought to bury King Michael and Queen Whitney in, I see the embers still glowing. I am reminded of a phoenix and my third eye calls up Shakespeare’s words in Othello,

“O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial…Reputation is an idle and most false imposition…lost without deserving.”

It’s clear to me now that I have no right…WE have no right to judge lest we be judged! I can see it clearly now that the shades have been removed for the entire world to see.

R.I.P. King Michael Joseph Jackson I