Real Shit

Should I Still Introduce My Daughter to Michael Jackson?

I was pumped to let my daughter listen to Michael Jackson until Leaving Neverland aired.

I remember the time Michael Jackson blew my eight-year-old mind.

My parents thought I was in bed, but I was peering over the back of the couch and their shoulders watching the Michael Jackson Talks to Oprah special.

His dance moves were thrilling. The gentleness in his voice seductive. His manufactured face mesmerizing. From then on, I was infatuated with everything about him.

Borderline obsessed.

I watched his concerts on VHS over and over. I would put my dad’s giant Marshall headphones on and spin Bad as my meditation.

Any T-shirt, mug, pin that had his face on it–mine.

He became my automatic Halloween costume and answer to “If you could have dinner with anyone dead or alive?”

I tattooed a quote from Peter Pan on my leg because he loved that story.

Hell, I even had an MJ onesie made to announce my pregnancy.

When he died in 2009, it was like my own father did. My phone blew up with condolences and sympathy messages from people I hadn’t heard from in years. “Are you okay?” “I’m so sorry Laura.” “Thinking of you.”

Michael Jackson is (was?) a huge part of who I am.

I have been so excited to introduce my daughter Sunny to the sermons of my priest MJ.

I pictured living room dance parties and music video marathons.

Things have changed

A couple weeks ago, I hesitantly plunked myself down and watched the HBO documentary Leaving Neverland. In it, Wade Robson and James Safechuck candidly walk viewers through detailed allegations of Jackson sexually abusing them when they were little. We’re talking years of manipulation and molestation.

A smooth criminal.

Listening to Robson talk about MJ performing oral sex on him when he was seven years old left my jaw dropped and heart heavy.

It was kind of like when I found out Santa Claus wasn’t real. I sort of knew all along, but I needed someone to tell it to me straight.

And it hurt when they did.

The journalist and fan in me sees the chance that Robson and Safechuck are lying and the whole documentary is a one-sided rouse related to money, but their stories are pretty damn convincing.

I have no way of proving anything. I’m not going to jump on social media and start using the hashtag #MJInnocent or #MJGuilty. I don’t know what he did.

All I know is this film has completely annihilated his legacy and has been one of the biggest buzzkills of my life.

Prodigy or Pedophile?

Michael Jackson is now sporting a giant scarlet letter–“P” for pedophile.

As a fan, I feel a bit embarrassed and very confused. I deleted “Michael Jacksonaholic” from my Instagram and Twitter bios because I don’t want people to think I support his alleged actions.

But his songs still own my heart.

Is it possible to separate the art from the personal life of the artist?

If an asshole creates a masterpiece, does it matter if he’s an asshole?

There’s no question “Billie Jean” is a bonafide banger and “Man in the Mirror” has inspired people all over the world, but in the #MeToo climate we’re living in, I feel like I’m now supposed to shelter my daughter from anything linked to malfeasance.

I can picture a bunch of unsolicited “How could you let your daughter listen to him?”

I don’t think it’s right to remove giant puzzle pieces of popular culture from our radar and radio stations when news like this breaks. Especially when the claims are unsubstantiated.

Based on the number of skeletons coming out of the closet these days, we’d have nothing left.

Michael Jackson is still musically the reigning King of Pop and I want to show my daughter why.

But at what cost?