Move and Be Moved

As soon as my left feet stepped into the front door of my house, my little sister greeted me with, “Did you hear? Michael Jackson died!”

A little appalled, when only hours earlier, I had read about Farah Fawcett passing away. I am not the least bit surprised at the regular suspects on my facebook’s news feed, all feeling something for a man. This particular man.

To many kids and teenagers growing up in North America, Michael Jackson was a regular household name, his music regularly broadcasted but never failed to lose its appeal. To me, growing up in Pakistan, my early exposure to music was of Mandarin or Pakistani descent. One of my very first exposures to English music was Michael Jackson’s “Heal the world”, even if I “knew” that he had bleached his skin.

To a mere 8 year old girl living in a country torn by poverty and war, the lyrics had moved a syllable in my nerve, even though I never fully understood what it meant. In my very first mp3 player, given by a few friends, one of the songs I had to hear was “Heal the world”. I could listen to the song on repeat and still be moved. There is so much hope, so much want in those words to strive for love in our human race.

Still, I can’t help but wonder and look at his death critically.

His music and dance has affected so many people that they are very willing to look past the allegations of his pedophilic nature, his very out-of-norm personality. The man really does not fit well with the general norm of the society, but he has brought so many people together, inspired them and moved them. That is a lot of forgiveness and a lot of acceptance for a man whose art lets us move and be moved.

A lot of the commentaries out there have it absolutely right in celebrating his life, instead of grieving and mourning in our loss.

Michael Jackson, may you celebrate with us, knowing that we will remember you, just as you are, never plain and always entertaining.