Michael Jackson Mind-Melds With The Middle East

I, for one, could have told you this was going to happen. I realize it’s sort a of non-event, and yet more evidence of Michael’s descent into wacko-land, but this conversion has been a long time coming. You see, the Arab world has never stopped loving Michael Jackson, he had us at Thriller.

It’s a quirk of the culture I guess, maybe even an embarrassed hiccup, but an anthropologist would find a gold mine of material in the Arab world’s total adoration of the King of Pop. He was one of the three big stars on everybody’s lips in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia circa 1983: Madonna, Prince, and Michael. Madonna was downright taboo because of her Catholic name--my cousins were forbidden to even utter her name at school--Prince was too sexy, not to mention gender-bending; Michael was a perfect fit for the culture; groomed, stylish, and asexual.

That year I was especially popular, as I’d smuggled in from America the VHS of Thriller, wrapping it in my underpants to throw off the government inspector when he searched my luggage. The tape made the rounds, it was the highlight of any event. The video would pop in and we were spellbound, then we screamed at his transformation, and then we’d be on our feet dancing with the zombies because, how could you not?

My tenth birthday party, all girls of course, was a dress as your favorite MTV star party. I attempted a Madonna-in-the-jeans-jacket look from the Borderline video, but was too much of a tomboy to do more than throw on a jacket. A “Reckless” Bryan Adams came, Boy George with the hat and braids, and a friend’s sister arrived fashionably late--even for an Arab--as Michael Jackson. And Oh My God she had on the Thriller jacket. You couldn’t, and can’t, trump that. I’ll never forget how similarly she looked, with her dark skin and curly hair; the high cheekbones and all red leather ensemble. The jacket could so easily have skewed gerbil-eating alien from V, but she was Michael and she knew she had us beat.

Over the decades, as Michael’s star faded in the West due to his secret habits and bizarre behavior, back in the Kingdom rumors flew that Michael Jackson was in the ‘hood. For a time, I heard it weekly: Michael is in Jeddah, he’s in Riyadh, he’s giving a concert at so-and so’s compound, he’s converted! He’s here on Haj….and on and on, the rumor was endemic. One of the many reasons I love the film The Goonies, is because of a scene early on in the film, where the character Chunk dashes into his friend’s house and blurts out something like “ Guys, you won’t believe it, Michael Jackson’s in town” His friends all groan and roll their eyes like they’ve heard it before. This is a hit line in my family because, clearly, Chunk is a secret Arab.  

Eventually the rumor came true, and Michael merged with the Gulf, he moved to Bahrain. Bahrain, like Saudi, has seen a lot of American corporate foot traffic, and has a familiarity with American pop culture/products. It seems a good fit for the deflated star; not repressive, and blossoming into a fantasy style construct of towers and super islands, a la Dubai. Just his style, don’t you think? Certainly, they seem really proud to have him there, as if they one upped the rest of the Gulf States. Just this year, in Dubai, I walked along the open beach near the Burj al-Arab, and spotted graffiti all over the low walls that wind along the sidewalk. I could easily see the loving hand of the scrawny teenage kid, perhaps one-gloved or in red leather, as he shakily sprayed “Bad” “Man in the Mirror” and yes “Thriller” next to the name of his favorite pop star, Michael Jackson; the icon himself, at the foot of the Arab world’s iconic hotel.

What makes him timeless to us? As in Peter Pan's Neverland, time doesn't seem to affect the Arab world. Maybe Michael Jackson represents a more innocent era, before the rise of fundamentalism brought on by the first Gulf War, and the American presence thereafter. I’m willing to bet that the Arab world took to Michael Jackson because he is the man in their mirror: the glitz, the dreams, the power; the unapologetic eccentricity.

Welcome to the faith Michael, we’ve been keeping it for you.