Well, despite what the title of my blog suggests, I never knew Michael Jackson but growing up in the ’80s in the inner city without feeling, seeing and listening to his influence is like saying I learned American history without any mention of George Washington.

Michael (I never called him Mike or knew anyone who did) was prominent in urban American culture during the ’80s.  Maybe that is putting it mildly.  Throughout my life, I can’t really remember a time when Michael didn’t have a hit record.  So in honor of his life, I wanted to give a small retrospective of his influence on my life as a young woman who enjoyed his music.

1978-1986: WANNA BE STARTIN’ SOMETHIN’…
Elementary school.  I lived three blocks east from Detroit’s infamous Mack and Bewick intersection.  Violent crime was everywhere and the crack epidemic was growing.  Nancy Reagan wanted us to “Just Say No” and one of my methods of escape was music.  Mom and I lived with Grandma in a two family flat.  I remember playing “Thriller” on my little Fisher-Price record player.  I wanted a Michael Jackson lunchbox like my best friend in school.  Mom couldn’t afford it because she already purchased a Gremlins lunchbox for me.  She used to listen to his previous album, “Off the Wall,” but I preferred “Thriller.”  Vincent Price’s bloodcurdling cackle at the end of the title track scared me more than the drug dealers on the corner.  Michael just had one of his first facial surgeries.  I was convinced that he and Diana Ross were the same person.

1988-1991: “ANNIE, ARE YOU OK?  ARE YOU OK ANNIE?”
Middle school.  I began to prefer hip-hop to pop.  KRS-One reminded us that we were “headed for self-destruction.”  Crack was at an all time high.  Black men were declared an endangered species due to the high murder count.  I suspected that my uncle fell prey to drugs and Mom warned me about strange men offering candy and, of course, dodging stray bullets.  Music videos were more commonplace but my family couldn’t afford cable TV, so I watched what I could on network TV.  Michael was still in my stereo but he met with stiff competition from his baby sis, Janet.  She impressed me with her video for “Rhythm Nation,” but once I saw his “Smooth Criminal” video, I became devoted to Michael again.  Me and other classmates would sing “Man in the Mirror” during lunch by the lockers.  I wanted to marry him so he could teach me the “moonwalk.”

1992-1998: “JAM! IT AIN’T TOO MUCH FOR ME”
High School.  The number of homicides was getting ridiculous as Detroit became more acquainted with West Coast gangsta rap.  I attended one of the most underprivileged high schools in Detroit and walked home every day praying that I wouldn’t get killed by a stray bullet.  I adored Michael in secret as my friends were digging Snopp Dogg and Dr. Dre.  Michael became more passé, but I happily saw Oprah’s famous interview with him, his guest appearance on “The Simpsons” and the TV premieres of his music videos (“Remember the Time”, “In the Closet” and “Black and White”).  Michael now looked like a White woman, but I still loved him even though he didn’t make as many hit songs during the ’90s.  I was undecided about the whole child molestation issue.  I hoped it wasn’t true but I was skeptical.  I was still unsuccessful learning to do the moonwalk.

1999-2009: “THAT’S THE CHANCE I’LL TAKE…HEAVEN CAN WAIT”
I had graduated high school and college.  Grown woman.  Didn’t idolize Michael as much as I did as a kid but enjoyed hip-hop songs with samples of his songs.  He’s looking old now.  His moonwalk was lackluster and I gave up learning it.  Him dancing with Usher was not his best moment to me.  A part of me wished he could just retire quietly and rest.  Rumors of him having money troubles surprised me (“Isn’t he the same dude with the Neverland ranch complete with zoo and amusement park?)  He released “Invincible.”  I noticed more Black people listening to it than Whites.  Only a few songs charted.  He was still the King of Pop to me.  I was in shock when he died.  Decided that maybe it was a good chance to honor his memory by learning to do the moonwalk nearly 25 years after he first did it.  

Rest in peace, Michael.