Since Michael Jackson's passing this June, the world has responded in dramatically different ways. While most weep the loss of a musical icon, others spew out their contempt of the star, calling him a "pedophile" and a "freak." I never was a huge of Michael, by the time I was born and then started listening to music, he had stepped out of the limelight. Now, since I study music, I cannot deny his brilliance as an artist. His dancing was beautiful, no one will ever be able to recapture that, and his music reached millions of people. His talent was marred by a disastrous childhood that seemed to poison the rest of his life. He was accused of being a freak, changing his face until he was hardly the gorgeous young star people had fallen in love with, and of molesting boys at his famed Neverland Ranch. In my eyes, he was a tragic figure. I fully support his innocence, I cannot believe that a man so sensitive, so frail would ever harbor sexual feelings for young boys. Sure, he may have been socially inappropriate, but Michael Jackson was a man who craved love. His children have been a mystery for many years, and when Paris gave her 20-second speech at his memorial, I found myself brought to tears.
Michael Jackson was more than a star, more than the freak people like to label him as. He was a father, and his children adored him. He can't possibly be a pervert and still love his children so much. His children don't care that he was a star, and they know the accusations and the courtroom trials don't mean anything. They just want their dad back. Michael was a person, like you or me, and his death IS a tragedy because of the people he's leaving behind. I would rather judge a man based on what his children say of him than the tabloids and juries. Those children see him for who he really was.
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