I was an Eighties baby but the last of the family. So many of my childhood memories are Seventies leftovers from my sister and brothers. And like so, so many black families around the world, the Jackson 5 were a part of our lives. I don’t recall exactly when my love affair began, but it may have been the first time I heard Who’s Loving You.

Oh, Michael.

Young Michael with the perfect afro, the unbelievable soaring voice, and enviable adult swagger so long before any of us sucked all meaning from the word.

Every Christmas we listened to the Jackson 5 Christmas Album. To this day, their version of Give Love on Christmas Day is as evocative of Christmas to me as is the crinkling of wrapping paper.

Oh, Michael.

He became a symbol of lust for so many, as he grew older. Seventies era bellas know all about it, when the Jackson 5 taught us dance moves that many try to replicate to this day — check them poppin and lockin with the late Dom DeLuise. Laying the foundation for Usher, Chris Brown, and Justin Timberlakes to come. They were Dancing Machines, Michael out front, amazing us all with his fluidity years before a white glove set him apart.

Oh, Michael. As he became a man, at first he put away childish things. Or at least he seemed to, with Off the Wall. That album is practically perfect, from the dazzling disco of Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough (OMG, what an iconic video), the heartache of She’s Out of My Life — believed to be a tribute to the late Minnie Riperton — the irresistable bump of Workin Day and Night, the insiduous slink of the title track, the effortless sex appeal of Rock With You. Girrrrrllll, close your eyes. Let that rhythm get into you.

Oh, Michael.

My favorite track from that album? It’s so hard to choose just one. But I Can’t Help It comes most immediately to mind. Just hearing that on the radio brought pinpricks of tears to my eyes yesterday. There’s something so wistful about his vocals on that track. Oh…. Michael.

OK, HOW big was Thriller in your life? Thriller was beyond humongous. Thriller was on constant rotation in my house for a year, it seemed. I’m partially responsible. I was old enough to get the LP onto the record player and choose my favorite tracks. I remember sitting in the living room by the stereo, gazing at the photo of Michael and the baby tiger and letting his voice wash over me.

The songs I listened to over and over again were Human Nature, PYT — oooh, that bassline! — Wanna Be Starting Something, and of course, OF COURSE, Billie Jean. And who doesn’t remember THIS moment?

Was that the moment the rest of the world fell in love with MJ? It may have been. He was on fire that night, in a way that so few artists ever are. Oh, they might think they match up, but they can’t hold a candle. Sparks seemed to surround him. And then he introduced the world to the moonwalk and honey, it was OVAH.

Oh, Michael. One performance and you changed the game forevermore.

Bad was a phenomenon in my life. I remember getting a pair of bright red overalls with Bad spraypainted across the front and feeling like the coolest little thang ever when I wore them. And the videos from Bad lit the world on fire, putting Michael Jackson at the forefront of the entertainment scene once again. As if he’d ever left. My parents raised an eyebrow at the sexual danger lurking in the video of The Way You Make Me Feel — it was the beginning of the “is Michael Jackson weird?” questions that swirled around him for the rest of his too-brief life. The rumors about the Elephant Man’s bones, the hyperbaric chamber, thetabloid nicknames, the beginnings of vitiligo and the apparent plastic surgery.

Still, the music came ahead of his image at the time. The dance moves in Smooth Criminal astounded us all. I cried at the video for Man in the Mirror. Another Part of Me was my favorite song.

More than anything, I wanted to go to a Michael Jackson concert. To experience that hysteria in person. The screaming crowds that seemed to reveal an almost religious fervor for the King of Pop. Maybe this was when fame began to become bitter poison.

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Here in Chicago, the story of missing 2 year old Jada Justice has gotten the attention of the nightly news. But I was reminded by a regular commenter, this story isn’t getting nearly enough national attention.

In case you haven’t heard, click here to read more at BlackAmericaWeb. To summarize, Jada Justice has been missing since Tuesday June 16. While under the supervision of her mother’s cousin, the toddler was left alone in a car at a convenience store in Gary, Indiana. The search for Jada continues and now the babysitter’s story has been called into question — and that question is WHY would anyone leave a toddler alone in a car at a convenience store? Even for a second?

An ongoing thread on HelpFindTheMissing.org is probably the most thorough source of information. Finally, Nancy Grace has caught wind of the story, and reportedly this will soon be featured on America’s Most Wanted. Still, I have yet to notice a public outcry and concern as we’ve seen for other missing children in recent history.

The FBI has established a hotline for tips. Anyone with any information about Jada Justice should call 1-800-CALL-FBI.

I sincerely hope that Jada is found safe, and soon. My thoughts and prayers go out to her and her family.

Edited July 2 — this story had a truly, truly tragic outcome. Rest in peace, Jada. You deserved far more in this life than what you got. I can’t even find the words to say how heartbroken this makes me feel. And I certainly can’t imagine how her family feels.

About a decade ago I was hair-color happy, blissfully experimenting with a veritable rainbow of semi-permanent shades and relaxing my hair bone straight all the while. Then I made the decision to go natural, and man oh man did I notice a difference in the health of my hair. Relaxer and regular coloring chemicals had ripped up my ends, shortened my hair growth, and left me with a tender, scabby, flaky scalp. It took years of hair rehab and lots of TLC to get my situation healthy and growing again.

Now it’s been a while… but I’m contemplating a change in hair color again. Something sunnier for summertime. I don’t even know what I want — a consultation with a professional will help, for starters. (Chicago natural hairstylists, anyone?)

But all of this brought me to a question for my bellas.

How do you define natural?

For me, natural means an unaltered hair texture. It means embracing your kinks and coils as they are, without using heat or chemicals to change the way your hair grows out of your head.

But what about color? Color has long been beloved by many bellas who would describe themselves as natural. And color can alter your hair’s texture, believe it or not. What about all of the beautiful women who wear locs, and color their locs in different tints and tones? And I know some bellas out there who say natural is just that — 100%. No color, no heat, and even using “curly hair” products can be frowned upon in some circles.

I respect everyone’s opinion, and I want to hear from you.

I had a fascinating discussion on Twitter which then led me to post this discussion on the Afrobella forum. And I got some brilliant responses from forum members and regular commenters, which I’m about to share with you.

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Consider this your daily reminder, courtesy of an old school Sesame Street clip!

I grew up a Sesame Street junkie, and this song was always one of my favorites. The empowering message resonated with me at an early age — “just look around you, it’s easy to see. There’s NOTHING we women can’t be!”

This year, Sesame Street celebrates 40 years of excellence, and according to that Newsweek article in the previous link, it’s ranked #15 in popularity of the children’s shows on air. That’s terrible news and I blame Elmo. Just kidding (I’m a Grover stan, for the record)!

It’s true, the Sesame Street nowadays isn’t quite the show I grew up on. But it’s still awesome and the messages of inclusion, equality, and respect remain. And for classic Sesame Street fans of my generation, all isn’t lost. You can get
Sesame Street - Old School, Vol. 1 (1969-1974) and Sesame Street: Vol. 2 - Old School (1974-1979). Your kids will LOVE it. And so will you!

I was sent this inspiring CNN story about Trinidadian woman Susan Lakhan Baptiste yesterday, and just had to share it with you bellas and fellas. I love animals, and I have so much respect for animal lovers and activists. Susan Lakhan Baptiste has made it her life’s mission to protect the endangered leatherback turtles that come to nest on Trinidad’s Matura Beach. In case you’ve never heard of a leatherback turtle, it’s the largest of all living sea turtles, the only surviving species of its genus, and they can live to be 150 years old.

Susan makes me so proud as a fellow Trini, and as a fellow animal lover. Next time I visit home, I hope it’s during nesting season. Regretfully, I’ve never been to Matura Beach to witness this amazing natural phenomenon. I hope to rectify that soon! Big respect to you, Susan Lakhan Baptiste — keep on fighting the good fight!

Maybe you’re heading to the beach, lighting up the grill, getting ready to party, or kicking it in front of the tube with an all-day marathon of your favorite show. But today, Memorial Day, is about so much more.

Today we celebrate the men and wome who sacrificed their lives for American freedom. Throughout the history of this country, men and women of every creed and race have come together to fight in the name of America.

Beautiful, strong women of color have long contributed to the armed forces — just click here for a small glimpse of African American men and women, committed to dignified service in WWII, often despite segregration and prejudice shown towards them by their own comrades.

Click here to read about the Black Women’s Army Unit of WWII, which helped to send letters to military personnel overseas.

Click here to read about the history of black women in the army, dating back to the Civil War.

I know many of you bellas have served in the armed forces, or have family and friends who have. Some of you might be currently serving our country, or are ardently missing and hoping and loving someone who is overseas, doing their best to keep America safe. Thank you doesn’t say nearly enough.

Love, light, peace, and blessings to all of us this Memorial Day. If you want to post a special rememberance for our men and women in service, please share with me!