Why I Still Love Michael Jackson

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Guest Essay

Why I Still Love Michael Jackson

April 25, 2026,

7:00 a.m. ET

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Henry Leutwyler

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By

Nekesa Mumbi Moody

Ms. Moody is a former music editor for The Associated Press and a former co-editor in chief of The Hollywood Reporter.

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When I attended the Los Angeles premiere of “Michael” last Monday —

with

Magic Johnson, Usher, Martin Lawrence, Raven-Symoné and Miles Teller, among other stars, on hand — I felt transported to a time when Michael Jackson mania ruled the earth. The capacity crowd at the Dolby Theater, the longtime home of the Academy Awards, included fans dressed up in outfits inspired by all phases of Jackson’s career: the vibrant colors of the Jackson 5, the glittery military jackets and, of course, sparkling white gloves everywhere. Inside the theater, there was exhilaration as the movie began, the audience cheering for every dance step and high-pitched whoop in the film. It felt like more than a celebration. It felt liberating.

As I got ready to attend that premiere, I felt especially nostalgic. I even grabbed a sequined jacket and white socks from my wardrobe. For one night, I could celebrate the Michael Jackson who’d meant so much to me.

It was also a scene I could not have imagined happening two decades earlier. Jackson’s career had bottomed out after his 2005 trial for child molestation and other charges. He was found

not guilty

, but the sensationalized specter of the accusations stuck.

My experience that night at the premiere solidified for me that maybe it was OK to be an out and proud Jackson fan again.

I’ve been one my whole life. He vaulted to the top of the charts as the cherubic lead of the Jackson 5 before I was born. His music defined my early years, from the robotic funk of “Dancing Machine” to the synth disco sounds of “Shake Your Body (Down to the Ground).” At the end of 1982, when I was a preteen, he released “Thriller,” and I, along with much of the rest of the world, fell hard into M.J. mania. He conquered the charts and opened up MTV to videos by other Black artists. He followed that up with “Bad,” and together those albums changed the culture.

Then the weirdness started. What was going on with his skin color? His nose? His chin? Why does he have a monkey for a friend? Why does he live on an estate called Neverland, surrounded by amusement park rides? Even before the allegations of pedophilia — those would come later — Jackson became a punchline, the target of endless jokes. By extension, so did his fans.

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