Death Can’t Rewrite Your Fragile Reputation
April 16th, 2024, 4:15 PM.
Growing up, my community has always associated the death of someone’s life with a celebration. Because to be absent from the body is to be present with The Lord. Yes, we mourn and reflect, but at the core. We celebrate the fact that a life was lived. We refer to our funeral services as “Homegoing Celebrations.” But never in all of my years breathing on this earth have I ever witnessed the celebration of someone’s death as I’m currently witnessing with the announcement of O.J. Simpson’s death. His death is not only parsing the hatred history America harbors towards Blacks, but it’s teaching me that there are certain things you simply cannot outlive.
My connection to O.J. Simpson isn’t what it is to perhaps my parents or grandparents, because of the generation he represents. My introduction to him was the man running through the airport in the Hertz commercial. I knew he was “The Juice,” but I didn’t have any admiration for him, simply because I didn’t know the football titan. My best association with him is the man who had our nation in a chokehold after taking the police on a high-speed chase in his white Bronco.
In October of 1995, O.J. was acquitted (rightfully so) on the charges of murdering his ex-wife and her friend. I was a sophomore in high school, sitting in my final class of the day as the verdict was being broadcasted on “TV’s Channel One.” It was an educational news provider for schools. Think CNN for kids. There was an eerie feeling lingering. In my remembering, our staunch prayer was he’d be found not guilty of this heinous act. I also remember my support of a not-guilty verdict being supported by the color of my skin and not the knowledge in my head. At the time O.J. was beloved by all, however, this case was creating a racial division. But let us be clear. The division, and racial war that sat on the brink wasn’t solely brought on by the fact of OJ’s pending and potential innocence, but the fact that we’ve just witnessed the beating of Rodney King.
As a child, I recall this being my first encounter and feeling of racial tension. An emotion of uncertainty occupied my gut as the nation awaited the final verdict. Uncertain how his verdict would cause many students to react, including myself. Would a classmate bark out some racial obscenity? Would I respond violently if he’s found guilty? All of these questions and more held court in my head.
I was fully aware of how necessary it was to stick by my people, right or wrong. But I was also unaware of Simpson’s denouncement of his Black card (I’m not Black. I’m O.J.) and his anti-blackness redirect. However, because of my age and ignorance, I was more engaged with the alliance and united front my community was displaying. Let us also be clear, a large fraction of the alliance and cheers were for Johnnie Cochran and Christopher Darden. It was our emotional response to the unjust.
Admittedly, the response to his death has overtaken me with a somber feeling. And it’s not that I’m mourning the man, because I can’t and won’t. Sorry to that man. But I’m mourning what his life represents to my generation, which is the monumental moment and cultural impact. Dare I say an awakening for so many of us? His death reminds me of the time when my people weren’t celebrating whether or not he was a killer. We were celebrating victory over a shady system built to destroy us. We stood strong as a phalanx, and it wasn’t for Brother O.J., but for ourselves. His acquittal was our win.
Interestingly enough, my somber feeling is also attached to the lack of compassion for the death of a man who died from a deadly disease that’s claimed many of our loved one’s lives, and some who are fighting for their lives. The poor-in-taste commentary accompanied by his death stems from an almost 30-year-old verdict. It’s the harsh reminder that over time he shifted from the hero Black folks once celebrated, to The Juice that remained on the loose.
The “good riddance” tweet from his peer, (and perhaps once friend) was a more in-depth look at the racial climate our country currently finds itself in. This peer is living the same privileged life O.J. lived under a new gender, but I can’t help but wonder what they [his peers & general public] will say and how they will be celebrated when they pass.
In my community, we celebrate life, we don’t condemn it. Regardless of personal feelings, a life is a life. O.J. who died of prostate cancer at age 76 will forever remain as the football legend who couldn’t outlive his tarnished legacy as an acquitted “murderer.” The quote “reputation is fragile, and fame is fleeting” occupies my mind in this hour and reinforces how often death can rewrite your wrongs and give you a new reputation, but that’s not the case for Brother Orenthal James Simpson.
UPDATE:
Even now, as I go to publish this journal entry I wrote months ago. There’s still this spirited debate that snowballs into the conversation of: can we discuss O.J. in glowing terms? I’m left to wonder if this would even be a conversation if O.J. was a white man? Since his death. I personally haven’t seen any lengthy articles written by TIME Magazine or any other reputable publication. No life highlight package was run by any new outlets. They announced his death and continued; business as usual.
✌🏾🅱️