Humanity

In 1996, my teenage world was shaken by the sudden death of Tupac Amaru Shakur. Pac was often misunderstood, surrounded by the wrong crowd, gangsta...yet had a human side that spoke through his lyrics. Back then I was totally into his lyrics, although I didn't live the hard knock he spoke on. I didn't know any Brenda's, I wasn't surrounded by thugs (although I went through my thug love stage), and none of my friends had ever been shot. But his eyes were deep. His enormous swag and ego overshadowed his petite frame. Pac was the man back in my day who seemed to have 9 lives. So, when he was pronounced dead on Friday the 13th in September, I didn't believe it. I was on my way to a high school football game to kick it with the crew. Sure, Pac had been shot multiple times. But, no one thought for one moment that he wouldn't rebound. I mourned his death. I cried. I prayed for his family. I even got into all the hype that Pac might be chilling on an island waiting to make his comeback in a few years. I thought no one could ever shake me like this again.

13 years later, Michael Jackson who I absolutely loved as a child but didn't particularly like much as an adult took his last breath. I went into complete shock. I was sitting at a gospel convention when it was announced by Tyler Perry to the crowd. I knew Mike was admitted to the hospital that day. But, I didn't think MJ would die. Not this soon.

I didn't cry. I prayed for the family. I listended to his music over and over. I watched his music videos repeatedly. I watched all the media stories on E and BET and VH-1. The more I watched, the more I felt guilty for all the negative remarks I made about MJ. The more I learned, the more I understood that it was impossible to understand his world if I wasn't living it. As days went by, I focused on his music, his positive influence on this globe, his humanity, his love for children and for people who were in need. I began to appreciate the way he created unity through his lyrics, his dancing, through his smile, his dress, even with the jheri curl perm he had going on.

Yesterday made it official for us all who found his death to be surreal. Those who watched from their homes, listened through streams at work, sat in theaters or on street walks with other fans to watch on huge screens...the world stopped for MJ's memorial. I didn't know what to expect. But, I do know after listening to his close friends, singing along to the spiritual tunes and those MJ penned or adored through the years, it all came down like a ton of bricks. My heart ached for the kids. For his mother. For his brothers and sisters. His nieces and nephews. His cousins. His friends.

13 years later I mourn for another man who was releveant to this world. But this time it's different. This time I cry because I realized I judged someone for the life the media portrayed. I judged a man I didn't even know but formed opinions on. I cried because I realized how beautiful his spirit was and how deeply he reached inside his heart to help those in need. I cried as I thought back on my own personal memories of MJs affect on my love for music. I cried for the 3 children he leaves behind who love him as a child should. I prayed that the media doesn't try to strip them of their soul as it did MJ. It opened my eyes to the powers of the media and fame. But, it also opened my eyes to the purity of humanity.

No matter what Michael's faith was he was a giver from his soul. For that, he was blessed and was a blessing. Beautifully human. Peculiar to the average human. Peculiar enough to be the best entertainer who ever lived. Just crazy enough to give of his time, his finances, his thanks, his talents, his gifts, his heart to this world.

Beautifully human.