Michael is dead, but perpetually and significantly alive. The great star embodied (sic) some of the most poignant postmodern ideas about transgressing gender, race and different pop cultures. When he came into world class prominence during the 80’s his image consisted of morally questioned movements worse than Elvis’s. He broke down the absolutes of concepts of gender and ”black” music into a globally packaged sound with accompanying dance moves that he had ”learnt from the children in the ghetto” (actually it was Poppin Taco that helped him with the moonwalk and other popping routines). His public image was apparently very far from the ”real” Michael, it was so fantastically manufactured as was his whole body and extending to his own lived life. He suffered accusations of being a child molester, schizophrenic and transvestite which was all either true or not, it felt ever some unreal for us as bystanders and fans.
There is so much to be said and written about our great idol, that I must take a few minutes to ponder what his presence have meant for me. A longer post will follow shortly.