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He claimed he has had only minimal plastic surgery, referring viewers to his 1988 biography Moonwalk, in which he admitted to having had his nose removed -- sorry, remodeled -- and a chin cleft made. And he denied he bleached his skin to its current Kabuki whiteness as a renunciation of his ethnic roots: "I am proud to be a black American." He said (and his dermatologist has confirmed) he suffers from a "disorder that destroys the pigmentation of the skin . . . It's in my family. . . . Using makeup evens it out, 'cause it makes blotches on the skin." The disease, vitiligo, is "more visible with those with black or brown skin," says Dr. Madhu Pathak, a professor of dermatology at Harvard. "There is treatment. Michael Jackson may die of other diseases but not from this one. He will have a normal life."
That last prognosis is, alas, faulty; Jackson's life has never been normal. For a celebrity of his magnitude, to be seen is to be smothered, to be loved is to be abused, to be a star is to be a freak. His childhood story is as poignant for what he says he missed ("slumber parties") as it is pathetic for what he endured. During rehearsals, he recalled, he would look out and "see all the children playing . . . and it would make me cry." Before a tour of South America, "I hid, and I was crying while I was hiding, because I did not want to go." In puberty -- "very sad, sad years for me" -- his abusive father routinely called Michael ugly, "and I would cry every day."
Responding to Winfrey's question "Did your father ever beat you?," Michael tried to smile as he said, "Yes." Then, in an aside to his father, "I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me." With that wincing smile, Jackson was like a wounded orphan who has walked through fire and has booked a return trip. How strong is the bond, the bondage, of victim to victimizer? Dangerous is "dedicated to my dearest parents, Katherine and Joseph Jackson."
Asked if he was a virgin, he smiled and said he was "a gentleman. You can call me old-fashioned, if you want." He has dated Brooke Shields, but the actress says, with a smile in her voice, "He has not asked me to marry him. Maybe that's going to be on the next Oprah show." Shields, 27, also grew up naked before the camera and understands the slash and burn of early fame. "It is very hard," she says of Jackson, "when your family turns against you, and when anyone you befriend slaps you in the face. It would amaze you the way people hurt him. What amazes me even more is his willingness to forgive. He acknowledges their frailty, and he allows it to eat away at him. Can you blame him for wanting to be surrounded by the innocence and purity of children? The light in their eyes is what he wants to keep alive in his own soul."
"In a way," Shields says -- meaning the best way -- "Michael is not of this world." But as a child aching for love, even from those who can abuse his trust, he resembles most other people on earth. And in daring to do battle without the armor of guile, he is something else old-fashioned: a hero on an impossible quest for innocence.