Brittany Luce

If you're even moderately curious about the legend around the King of Pop, I highly recommend Margot Jefferson's book on Michael Jackson.

Now, this was originally published in 2006, but in 2019, the critic and scholar published a new intro for the book that was a response to Leaving Neverland.

One of her observations has really stuck with me.

She writes, "'He didn't want us to understand him.

He wanted us to love him unconditionally.'"

And when I think of MJ, I often think about this facet of his personality, the perfectionist, the tryhard, who was both uniquely gifted and obsessed with proving himself to the world via the Billboard charts, awards, and world record stats, a kind of precursor to the Beyonces and Taylor Swifts of today.

I think of how throughout his life he sought unconditional love from his fans.

And he did this by stressing certain attributes when necessary.

For one, artistic excellence, like referring to himself as the king of pop.

For another, his Black identity, like when he pivoted from down-center pop into the more jagged sounds of hip-hop and New Jack Swing in the 90s.

And then there was his innocence, like his references to his lost childhood and his fixation on Peter Pan.

All three of those attributes are crucial to his mythology.

They're very present in a biopic you may remember if you're a Black person of a certain age, say, millennial and up.

The Jacksons, An American Dream.

This is the star-studded 1992 TV miniseries dramatizing the Jackson family's ascent.

And when I say star-studded, I mean it.

Angela Bassett played matriarch Katherine Jackson.

Lawrence Hilton Jacobs, a.k.a.

Cochise from Cooley High, was domineering father Joe Jackson.

Plus, you had none other than Billy Dee Williams as Motown founder Barry Gordy, Vanessa Williams as music producer Suzanne DePass, Terrence Howard as the young adult version of Brother Jackie.