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MICHAEL JACKSON BRIDGED CULTURAL GAPS
By Nora Mossessian
Glendale News Press
July 1, 2009 12:08 AM PDT
When my family and I emigrated from Iran, arriving in Glendale in the
late 1980s, I didn't know any English, didn't have a single friend,
and found out rather quickly that there was a gaping rift between
my parents' conservative Armenian upbringing and the bold sense of
freedom and individuality taught and valued in America.
This rift would continue to be the core of our conflicts for much of my
teenage years, but for a majority of the late '80s to early '90s, one
powerful, supernatural force would effortlessly bridge this cultural
gap: Michael Jackson. His incredible songs, cinematic music videos,
flawless live performances and optimistic philanthropic messages
grabbed all of us equally through our living room television set.
Jackson's music was one of the few things I genuinely enjoyed on my
own and also shared with my parents without receiving an ounce of
disapproval - the height of his career was one of the few times during
my adolescent years when this was the case. He was both a safety
net and a powerful cultural teacher for me and my parents. For me,
he was the American definition of "cool" I sought out the first day
I arrived, clinging on to his music and image as a way to assure
myself and others that I was an Armenian American - not just some
"Armenian immigrant" thrown randomly into an American school.
And, while I'm not claiming Jackson single-handedly taught my parents
about racial equality, I know he had a very positive influence in
that respect as well. How could he not? He was an African American
who reintroduced Motown and R&B to the entire world, breaking all
racial divides and crystallizing the idea that good music and dance is
universal. Proof of this lay in the fact that my traditional parents
had no problem with their 10-year-old Armenian girl, who was supposed
to be prim and proper, dancing feverishly in her denim jacket all
over their living room and shouting, "You know I'm bad, I'm bad,
you know it, you know!"
Nearly everything Jackson did seemed fun, appropriate and
family-friendly; even his crotch-grabbing came across more like
cool, brief dance moves rather than vulgar gestures. Sure he had
sexual vibes, and even a handful of suggestive love songs, but they
all flowed seamlessly into his overall persona and didn't raise any
highly questionable issues. The same could not be said for Madonna,
Prince, George Michael or any of the existing alternative grunge bands.
Obviously, all of this changed almost overnight in 1993, making the
exact opposite true. You can bet your life my parents weren't about
to discuss issues such as pedophilia, sexual abuse, search warrants
and strip searches with their 12-year-old daughter. Lucky for them,
they didn't need to worry about it for too long, as O.J. Simpson
saved them the trouble the following year.
For some reason, it was easier to talk about suspected murder than
suspected molestation. Jackson was quietly swept under our rug. His
investigation was never openly discussed in our living room, and
his music, though not banned, had simply lost its magical quality,
and was no longer shared as universally between us.
This week, as I reflect on the sudden passing of a true childhood
icon, I can't help but want to deeply thank my parents for not only
coming to this country and protecting me from war and persecution,
but allowing me to have my years of genuine fun, admiration and
lighthearted obsession with Michael Jackson.
While my parents frantically searched for meaning and stability amid
the chaotic task of properly raising two children in a completely
foreign country, they were somehow able to loosen their grip just
enough to allow me to fully enjoy an important piece of American pop
culture, which made it that much easier for me to transition into
the person I wanted to be at the time. That made all the difference
in the world for me then, and I couldn't be more grateful for it now.
I choose not to think too much about Jackson's public scrutiny from
1993 onward, because despite all his scandals, none of it changed
the fact that he was an extremely positive figure during my most
impressionable years. He will be sorely missed by several generations,
but will live on forever not just through his timeless music, but
through the hearts and minds of millions of people around the globe
whose identities he directly helped shape in one way or another.
By Nora Mossessian
Glendale News Press
July 1, 2009 12:08 AM PDT
When my family and I emigrated from Iran, arriving in Glendale in the
late 1980s, I didn't know any English, didn't have a single friend,
and found out rather quickly that there was a gaping rift between
my parents' conservative Armenian upbringing and the bold sense of
freedom and individuality taught and valued in America.
This rift would continue to be the core of our conflicts for much of my
teenage years, but for a majority of the late '80s to early '90s, one
powerful, supernatural force would effortlessly bridge this cultural
gap: Michael Jackson. His incredible songs, cinematic music videos,
flawless live performances and optimistic philanthropic messages
grabbed all of us equally through our living room television set.
Jackson's music was one of the few things I genuinely enjoyed on my
own and also shared with my parents without receiving an ounce of
disapproval - the height of his career was one of the few times during
my adolescent years when this was the case. He was both a safety
net and a powerful cultural teacher for me and my parents. For me,
he was the American definition of "cool" I sought out the first day
I arrived, clinging on to his music and image as a way to assure
myself and others that I was an Armenian American - not just some
"Armenian immigrant" thrown randomly into an American school.
And, while I'm not claiming Jackson single-handedly taught my parents
about racial equality, I know he had a very positive influence in
that respect as well. How could he not? He was an African American
who reintroduced Motown and R&B to the entire world, breaking all
racial divides and crystallizing the idea that good music and dance is
universal. Proof of this lay in the fact that my traditional parents
had no problem with their 10-year-old Armenian girl, who was supposed
to be prim and proper, dancing feverishly in her denim jacket all
over their living room and shouting, "You know I'm bad, I'm bad,
you know it, you know!"
Nearly everything Jackson did seemed fun, appropriate and
family-friendly; even his crotch-grabbing came across more like
cool, brief dance moves rather than vulgar gestures. Sure he had
sexual vibes, and even a handful of suggestive love songs, but they
all flowed seamlessly into his overall persona and didn't raise any
highly questionable issues. The same could not be said for Madonna,
Prince, George Michael or any of the existing alternative grunge bands.
Obviously, all of this changed almost overnight in 1993, making the
exact opposite true. You can bet your life my parents weren't about
to discuss issues such as pedophilia, sexual abuse, search warrants
and strip searches with their 12-year-old daughter. Lucky for them,
they didn't need to worry about it for too long, as O.J. Simpson
saved them the trouble the following year.
For some reason, it was easier to talk about suspected murder than
suspected molestation. Jackson was quietly swept under our rug. His
investigation was never openly discussed in our living room, and
his music, though not banned, had simply lost its magical quality,
and was no longer shared as universally between us.
This week, as I reflect on the sudden passing of a true childhood
icon, I can't help but want to deeply thank my parents for not only
coming to this country and protecting me from war and persecution,
but allowing me to have my years of genuine fun, admiration and
lighthearted obsession with Michael Jackson.
While my parents frantically searched for meaning and stability amid
the chaotic task of properly raising two children in a completely
foreign country, they were somehow able to loosen their grip just
enough to allow me to fully enjoy an important piece of American pop
culture, which made it that much easier for me to transition into
the person I wanted to be at the time. That made all the difference
in the world for me then, and I couldn't be more grateful for it now.
I choose not to think too much about Jackson's public scrutiny from
1993 onward, because despite all his scandals, none of it changed
the fact that he was an extremely positive figure during my most
impressionable years. He will be sorely missed by several generations,
but will live on forever not just through his timeless music, but
through the hearts and minds of millions of people around the globe
whose identities he directly helped shape in one way or another.