Archive for June, 2010


A Year Later

 

So it’s been a year since Michael died.  I’ve been weighing in my mind what the tone of this piece should be: sentimental? comedic? somber?  I was looking at the program and the ticket stub from his Memorial, thinking about it all.  So much has happened within my own personal life these past 12 months, it puts everything that happens outside of it in a very small, at times completely insignifcant space.

One thing that’s already become clear is in death, Michael’s public image has almost completely reverted back to the way I like to remember him.  When I hear his songs, my face lights up.  I think of the innocence of my own youth, I think of the days and nights learning and mimicking the choreography of all the great videos.  I think of still fantastic pop music.  As I looked through old pictures, CDs, and music videos, I picked on something that had been there from the beginning but caught my attention more now that he’s gone. 

The Smile.  I’m sure my female friends may say ‘Of course!’, but as a guy, it just wasn’t something I ever paid any attention to.  I think we can say for certain Michael had at least two major demons he fought in his life (abuse to his mind as a child, abuse to his body as an adult).  But when he danced, we danced with him.  When he sung, we sung with him.  And when he smiled, we smiled with him.

Not counting the complete innocence of my pre-school years, I was a fairly well known ‘non-smiler’ growing up.  What can I say?  I was a walking molotov cocktail of Malcolm X/Spike Lee/2Pac/Public Enemy and Wyandotte County.  A very funny anecdote which I’ll never forget: my first semester in the Lucas Building, I went looking for Dr. Todd Boyd.  I was so happy to be in California, and the first thing he ever said to me was, “You ain’t got to be SMILING!”  That story still makes me laugh because when I was a teenager, that was MY attitude!  To paraphrase a Katt Williams joke, “Dang man, you mad at breakfast?!?”  The life and times of the socially conscious.

I conquered the demons of my childhood, I really don’t know if I can say the same about Michael.  My singing voice is OK, and I can’t spin as fast as I used to, but I smile more now, naturally, than I ever have in my life.  I can remember the time when it seemed like only an MJ song had that power over me, but now almost everything does.  As my lady referred to them once, ‘the greatest cheeks in the history of cheekdom’ are now on display on a nearly daily basis.  I had to fight for it (like everything else), but I’ve earned the right to smile.  If that’s the part of Michael I take with me moving forward, I don’t think that’s too bad.

R.I.P. MJ. 

Pops

Earlier this week I sent diapers back to the Midwest.  I have none of my own yet, but good friends do, and it always seems like a practical gift for young mothers and fathers.  Over the course of my short lifetime, I’ve played Uncle Malik and even stepfather for brief stretches.  The buying diapers, going to the Disney/Pixar movies, answering the never ending questions of a curious young mind; it all strikes a chord with me.  Primarily because I had a such an attentive father.

While I’m aware of many friends who grew up without that male figure in their home, it’s still hard for me to fully comprehend.  I’ve reached that age where it’s no longer the big memories, but the little ones: turning me over on my back when my sinuses were bothering me; hearing ‘words I had never heard before’ from him when the car broke down; the way he insists and trying to tussle my hair, even though at this point he has WAY more hair on his head than I do.

Now we’ve reached that stage where I’ve noticed him ‘slowing down’.  My reflexes are peaking as his are betraying him.  His life seems to be getting harder while mine is falling into place.  My father and I have never been the type for a wide open dialogue; that’s never been his way and in some ways I’ve taken after him.  But there’s never been any misunderstanding about the bond between us.

So to my father and all fathers out there, Happy Father’s Day!  Enjoy the big piece of chicken, you’ve earned it!

 

Today the hip hop nation takes pause for 2Pac’s birthday.  He would have been 39.  It’s a strange reality to me to know there’s a generation who know of 2Pac through videos and old footage, but who didn’t live through his peak years.

Like some but not all, I had a love/hate relationship with 2Pac while he was alive.  I loved the passion of his voice, I loved the depth of his lyrics.  In my circle we define a movie star as a guy the guys would hang out with and the girls would bone.  By that definition 2Pac is still hip hop’s biggest ‘movie star’ to date. 

What I didn’t care for where the extremes of his personality.  How could the same man who made ‘Keep Your Head Up’ and ‘Dear Mama’ be part of a gang rape?  How could the son of a Black Panther throw a whole Coast of black people under the bus so…violently?

If Pac was our real life version of Bishop, or Tony Montana, or Nino Brown, then it feels no less sad but maybe less surprising he had the same violent end those characters did. 

The Hate U Give Little Infants Fux Everybody.  Was this prophetic?  Ironic?  Both?  From the time Pac died (and really after Biggie died), the shift started.  Some really do grow up with no sense of ‘options’ or ‘hope’ of living a life different from what their parents or grandparents had.  But for pretty much any young black person who grew up in at least a lower middle class background (like myself), we had to ask ourselves, “Look I love the music and I love my culture, but I’m not trying to DIE over this!”  There were of course those who were talking down to the gangsta rap culture from day one, but how often do people react positively when they know you’re talking down to them? 

Baby steps.  Sometimes one step forward, two steps back.  Where I went to college, there was a very infamous ‘Welcome Back to School Party’ where a member of one historically black fraternity pointed a gun at the member of another historically black fraternity.  And yes, choas ensued.  I still chuckle as I remember one of the freshmen, his eyes still bugging out of his head, coming up to me and saying, “Malik, is THIS what college is like?!?” 

(As an aside, I’m not trying to ride my high horse for those of you who vividly remember that night in our lives.  As a matter of fact, it was one of my fraternity brothers who took me out to shoot my first automatic.  Riding around Douglas County Kansas bumping Makaveli’s ‘Me and My Girlfriend’.  Now THAT’s irony!)

Anyway in pop culture black artists have gone from being genuinely tense, to mocking how we took some things a little too seriously.   Everything from Chappelle’s ‘When Keeping It Real Goes Wrong’ to the Huey/Riley dynamic on the Boondocks to the Wire have deglamourized the gangster lifestyle (since 99.9 percent of the time it ends only one of two ways – death or jail).  These shows have all illustrated how we both embrace the ‘outlaw’ lifestyle (and always will) but for the most part have learned the lesson about letting real gangsters do gangster things, and the rest of us will watch from a safe distance.

In some of his last interviews, Pac talked about forming a new political party and running for President.  That’s still funny to me, but none of us would have ever imagined a little more than 10 years later there would actually be a black President.  Or for that matter, Snoop and Diddy sitting next to each other courtside at a Lakers game.

I guess what I’m really saying is that for all my complaints over the years about 2Pac or the ‘thug culture’ or the state of hip hop today, in the end, it is still my culture and I will still take pride in its success and defend it.

 

Today was a typically long Sunday, some outside time, some personal things I had to get done – like all hardcore sports fans though, this particular Sunday meant planning everything around the NBA Finals.  So what time did the game start for me?  5 PM, perfect to get to a friend’s house for an early dinner.  At the end of a great game was it time for bed?  Hell no, it just turned 8 PM!  Enough time to get a few things done (including writing this post)!

Regular season NFL games starting at 10 in the morning, the ability to catch the ending of any great prime time game without the benefit of Sportscenter, the early start times are a hidden benefit you don’t catch until you’re here.  They’re also the real truth for the infamous ‘late arriving’ LA sports crowds; on top of the unlimited entertainment options this town provides, the ‘prime time games’ during the week mean you’re fighting rush hour traffic on top of stadium/arena traffic. 

This is the movie geek in me talking, but the growth of the internet (and Twitter) has forced pretty much all the big award shows taped on the West Coast to televise live out here.  So we’re still getting used to seeing the Golden Globes and Oscars on television at 5 in the evening, but I’m sure we’ll get used to that too. 

I’ll admit it, I’m spoiled now.

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