Who killed Michael Jackson?

The Los Angeles county coroner has decided that Michael Jackson’s death was a homicide. It is now left for a culprit to be established. All bets are on his personal physician, Conrad Murray, to be charged for administering the drugs that killed the legendary pop star. Dr. Murray is about to get caught up in a sprawling drama, for which any offence he might have committed is only a bit part.

The backdrop for this story is money, power and celebrity – Michael Jackson’s celebrity. In this gilded world, there were very few limits. MJ could indulge all his whims and fancy. He had a chimp for a pet, slept in an oxygen tent and built a fantastical ranch as a commitment to never growing old. But for the legal troubles that dogged him in recent years, few of Michael’s choices were subject to any consequential review. The negotiations that govern everyday interaction and serve as its checks and balances, were trumped by Michael’s enormous fame and fortune.

Who could tell Michael Jackson when his behavior might have been harmful? What seemed excessive to others was completely normalized in MJ’s world. His serial plastic surgery was the grotesque reminder that the singer was out of control. As was his feisty refusal to observe rules of propriety about relating with children. The singer’s prescription drug habit was just one part of a dangerous architecture.

For sure, a medical doctor who enables substance abuse is acting outside the law. But the person with the monstrous demand must take primary responsibility for the harm that befalls him. Michael Jackson’s celebrity sustained a syndicate that fed him the anesthetic propofol, along with other sedatives and painkillers. The core of the matter was Jacko's unchecked desire. It is the singer himself, who bears responsibility for his own untimely death.

The Usain Bolt effect

The Usain Bolt effect was evident among athletes at the recent world athletics championship in Berlin. If Croatian high jumper Blanka Vasic ordinarily appears stoic, she found time to do a jig en route to a gold medal performance last week. The East African distance runners seemed almost choreographed as they launched victory celebration after another. Everyone was mugging for the camera, a la Bolt. Serious looking sprinters like Tyson Gay might now be passé. Bolt’s “no problem” attitude is sweeping track and field.

After the debacle of Marion Jones’ drug cheating, the 23 year old speedster may be the right personality on which to hinge the reputation of beleaguered track and field. His show-boating is cute, and apparently, infectious. Just at the point when you think his antics might be overdone, he justifies himself with a blistering performance on the track. In post-race interviews, he shows restraint and message discipline, always emphasising the same themes: hard work, dedication and execution. His dope test results are negative. Track and field fans have never been more engaged.

We would hope that marketing experts are already thinking about how best to parlay Bolt’s super stardom into financial success. The obvious stakeholders – the Jamaican Tourism Ministry, the IAAF and Puma - have been quick off the mark in trying to capitalize on Bolt-mania. For his part, the triple world and Olympic champion will need to service their demands on him, while looking out for his best financial interests. There could be conflicts in finding the right balance. Not everyone will be happy with him all the time. Bolt will need business acumen alongside athletic prowess, if he is to achieve sustainable wealth from his extraordinary successes. http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/world/2009/08/24/pleitgen.germany.bolt.mania.cnn?iref=videosearch

Of all that he is, Bolt’s country boy representation is the most gratifying. He rids himself of the marquis puma spikes and does victory laps barefooted. Draped in his flag, Usain Bolt is the profile of raw athletic talent – childlike, brash but still unpretentious. Not bad for a boy from rural Jamaica.

What's a freak to do ?

A freak is usually a manifestation of our deepest and darkest fears. At the World Athletics Championship in Berlin, all our anxieties about sex and gender are being played out on the body of an 18 year old South African, Caster Semenya.

Entered to run as a woman, the International Amateur Athletic Federation (IAAF) has asked that Semenya submit to a gender verification test. The South African, who had a modest career as a junior athlete, eclipsed a world class field in the 800m, belying her age and inexperience in the two lap event. Though her times have shown rapid and impressive improvement over a short period, they still remain within the mainstream of women’s 800m running. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/athletics/8210471.stm

The IAAF is in a righted pickle. The Federation admits that gender verification is a “complex” process, involving the opinions of endocrinologists, gynecologists, psychologists, as well as experts in internal medicine and gender.

Ideas of what is “male” and “female” are by and large, socially constructed. On a daily basis, we perform roles of gender that we learnt and didn’t ourselves create. Markers such as clothing, voice modulation and mannerisms play a big part in determining whether we present as a man or a woman.

In their gender verification test, the IAAF will do well to consider the subjective element of Semenya’s own self-perception. What is this woman’s deeply felt sense of who she is? How has she approached her life, in a world that organizes human beings in terms of male or female? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G-bqET22vEU

The tension between Semenya’s self-perception and the biological and social perceptions of her gender is what pushes us into a murky area. Could it be that Semenya’s sense of who she is and her attitude towards her own body, are at odds with the sex that she was assigned at birth? If so, how is she told that from henceforth, she will cease to be a woman on account of an IAAF test! What if the test is inconclusive? Even worse, can “she” be both male and female, at once?

In the context of professional sports, the worry is that there may be an unfair advantage for Semenya in being physiologically male, whilst competing against women. Responding to this question, Germaine Greer argues that sports itself is not fair, for rewarding genetic advantage (this analysis does not appreciate the role of skill and application in sports) http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2009/aug/20/germaine-greer-caster-semenya.

The Semenya story has gifted amateur humorists with very low hanging fruit. Everyone believes they can get a joke out of this one. Personally, my empathy chip has kicked in. If you have ever been considered a freak or a monster, this should not be a laughing matter.

Going to the Proms

I’m not much of a classical music type. For me, old R & B and any sing-along number will do. So it may come as a surprise that I was at the BBC Proms last Sunday - in the commentator’s box, no less! One of my homeboys is big at the Beeb and thought it would be nice and counter- intuitive to attend. My friend is an unreconstructed hip hopster, who showed up for the occasion in regular jeans. I figured that if he was prepared to listen to an orchestra for 2 hours, then it most certainly was do-able.

And it was. I cannot say that I’m now a fan, on the strength of one outing. But I noted some cool things at the Royal Albert Hall.

For starters, the women of the orchestra were all model thin, showing muscular arms. There was one black girl, who played some type of horn. She was majorly cute.

The highlight of the afternoon was two pianists – a lady twin – sitting across from each other at two grand pianos. Both played themselves into a different world. The entranced audience followed them along. I didn’t have time to worry that they would make a disastrous mistake. It all ended triumphantly. That twin had magic fingers.

There were also unanswered questions. From time to time during the programme, a random dude would perform a solo for a few seconds, with a simple, not-very-fancy instrument. When someone took centre stage with something that looked like a tambourine, for example, I began to believe that I belonged on stage too. Certainly, he didn’t need to go to Julliard’s to do that! Was there a designated person for uncomplicated instruments? And what separates contenders for these roles at an audition?

Among the audience, the fashion was quintessentially British – no frills, completely dressed down and practical. I felt conspicuous for having made an effort.

Outside the theatre, there was a blingy looking statue of Prince Albert with ornate gold frames. I wondered about the inspiration for associating PA with certain piercings. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_Albert_piercing. Always the historian, my friend noted that it was a sprawling monument of Queen Victoria’s self-abnegation, after the prince died as a young man.

Two hours went by very quickly. It was chock full of pleasant sounds and interesting thoughts. Not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

Asafa's folly

I am irritated by Asafa Powell’s latest performance. No, he hasn’t lost some race he was meant to win, again. This time, my annoyance stems from his role in kabuki theatre, staged by him and his coach Stephen Francis of the MVP track club.

Not for the first time, Coach Francis refused to submit his athletes to train with the Jamaican national team, ahead of a world championship meet. For the upcoming World Athletics Championship in Berlin, MVP athletes Powell, Shelly-Ann Fraser, Melaine Walker, Shericka Williams, Brigette Foster-Hylton and Kaliese Spencer, all failed to show up for the national training camp in Nuremberg.

The Jamaica Amateur Athletic Association (JAAA) rules make it mandatory for athletes to assemble as a national team before representing the country. The basis for this is clear: individual athletes cease to be atomized professional competitors and become a national squad – competing for Jamaica – at events such as the World Athletics Championship and the Olympics. A training camp before a meet is meant to foster team spirit, as well as give time for team work activities, for example, relay practice.

Coach Stephen Francis always seems to buck this rule. He pulled a similar diva trip at the Beijing Olympics last year. No doubt at the end of their tether, the JAAA asked the International Amateur Athletic Federation (IAAF) to remove the offending MVP athletes from the starting list. It took the personal intervention of IAAF president Lamine Diack to reinstate them. Diack said that while he was entitled to do as asked by the Jamaican track and field authorities, he thought the punishment was too strong. http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/athletics/8194447.stm

For my two cents, Asafa et al should have been made to watch the meet from the bleachers in Berlin. It is hard to listen to the former 100m world record holder feign ignorance of the rules and victimization by the JAAA. He and his coach bluffed, on the conviction that they were too big to be dropped from the Jamaican national team. The IAAF reinstatement gives impunity for rule-breaking selfishness. Team morale must be at an abysmal low in Nuremberg.

It is breathtaking that this matter could not have been resolved before it became an international spectacle. The whole mess invoked memories of the Sydney Olympics, when Jamaican athletes protested the inclusion of Merlene Ottey in the national squad. Are we to believe that the JAAA lacks the moral authority to deal with a recalcitrant coach and his wayward athletes? If the answer is yes (and I believe it is), this is a sad state of affairs.

For the love of stew peas

“Are you ready now to place your order?” asked the waiter as he advanced toward our table. He had moved the pencil that was perched behind his ear into his hand and a small notepad from his shirt pocket.

Mark and I were already 10 minutes at a sit-down Jamaican restaurant in Brixton. There weren’t many other people dining. Our conversation had been breezing along and we were expecting to make drink requests first, but now felt hurried into placing full orders immediately. We leafed through menus that were on the table. The waiter stood within touching distance, ready to write.

“Is the stew peas served with pig’s tail?” I asked.

“I will check,” he said dryly.

“Can I get sorrel without any alcohol?” Mark asked. “I’m driving you see, so no alcohol for me,” he continued earnestly.

Our waiter was sporting corn-rows that seemed very tightly done. As he jammed his pencil at the root of his ultra-tight plaits, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to scratch an itch or just explode with impatience.

“I will ask inside di kitchen,” he flung over his shoulder, already retreating. His accent was now ripe with petulance. He surfaced some 10 minutes later and we eventually cobbled together meal orders without being whacked.

Hair R Us

I can’t wait to see comedian Chris Rock’s new movie , entitled “Good Hair.” http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/05/chris-rocks-good-hair-loo_n_251290.html.
The funny man is getting into a knotty issue. For research, he interviewed many, including US civil rights leader Rev. Al Sharpton, known for fiery rhetoric and a full bodied perm. If the film is successful, it will help us to better understand the politics of black hair.

Take US first lady Michelle Obama, for example. At the height of the euphoria about her fashion sense (Vogue cover appearance, Jackie O comparisons and all) I entertained some wicked thoughts: what if she grew an Afro for the remainder of her husband’s time in office? By Afro, I mean a big Pam Grier type ‘fro, un-spoilt by chemical moisturizing. Or, let’s say she sheds her obedient tresses for a natural, if more unpredictable look (more Wanda Sykes than Alek Wek)? Would the angry black woman portrayal that she seems to have elided from her husband’s presidential campaign, return?

Black men – where they still have hair – are not immune from coiffing politics. I doubt that there are many CEOs sporting corn rows, despite talked-about advances in metrosexuality.

In fairness, men generally have less styling options and images available to them. For black men, there are perhaps two streams – respectable vs. other. Dreadlocks, jherri curls, Mohawks, corn rows, big 'fros, and coloring are style choices that trigger automatic classifications, ranging from thug, fringe, to sissy. Hair can certainly make the man, or one’s perception of him.