If I was black, I would have sold half...

Justin(s).

I didn’t always like Justin Timberlake.  In fact, for the better part of the last decade, I despised him and his career.  Seeing his name in the paper or his face on television warranted at the very least an eye roll or teeth sucking.  Now don’t get me wrong, I recognized that the man had talent and to some degree, was deserving of all the accolades and attention, but I couldn’t stand him.  I won't lie; the biggest reason for my gripe was race.  If he were black, I wouldn’t be writing this.

Don’t worry, I’ll explain.

I was first introduced to Justin Timberlake back in high school when I had an inexplicable addiction to Total Request Live (TRL) and Carson Daly.  Every day around 4pm, I was in front of the television watching videos that looked like this and like this.  I even enjoyed the boy band craze (although I had enough self-respect not to pick a side).  It was a nice alternative to the Hip-Hop and R&B music that I grew up on.  Justin, of course, was the lead singer of N’SYNC, the boy band took the world by storm with hit records, videos and live performances (note: Please watch this video. This really happened in real life).  I tolerated watching Justin dance around with cornrows and bandanas and  I even stomached the fact that his presence on 106 & Park (BET’s answer to TRL), helped give the show “credibility”.  It was okay because J.T. had his lane and I had mine… but then he went solo.

In 2002, Justin Timberlake left N’SYNC and its bubble gum multi-platinum records to go solo and venture into, of all things, R&B.  His first single was  “Like I Love You” which featured the Virginia rap group The Clipse and was produced by Hip-Hop producer Pharell Williams.  The song was good and the video was even better.  Because Justin had rhythm and was seemingly committed to the genre, I supported it.  But then MTV ruined everything.  On an episode of TRL, they ran a quick segment comparing Justin Timberlake and R&B heavyweight, Usher.  Usher, who is black, recently released his single “Yeah” and it was climbing the charts.  This segment made the claim that somehow Usher was copying what Justin did with his debut single.  They mentioned Usher’s featured southern rapper (Ludacris) and rap producer (Lil’ Jon) and even referenced his dance moves.  MTV seemed to forget that not only was Usher from Atlanta along with the featured rapper and producer and had a personal relationship with them, but was a platinum solo artist more than 3 years before N’SYNC debuted!

It was my "Elvis" moment; I watched that segment and was irate.  I imagined that this was what my parents and grandparents felt when they watched the media declare Elvis Presley the “King of Rock & Roll” despite doing the same types of song and dance that was popularized by black artists well before him.  I felt like a culture, my culture, being stolen from me.  My acceptance of Justin Timberlake was replaced with anger and disgust.  And it wasn’t just me; after winning a MTV award in 2004, Usher shared his feelings about the comparison.  Now when I saw Justin with his cornrows, he seemed like a fraud.  I felt that he was the type of white guy that would use the n-word in private – not in the Strom Thurmond way but in the “Malibu’s Most Wanted” way - and that there was this secret plot by managers and agents to transform his image so that he can appeal to the darker demographic and capitalize off their music.  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it.

Although I wasn’t really a fan, I realized that it wasn't Justin’s fault that MTV screwed up or that other people chose to ignore the truth and history about his place in R&B music, so no harm, no foul.  But  during halftime of Superbowl XXXVIII, the other shoe dropped like an anvil on Wile E. Coyote.  Janet Jackson was the featured performer and she was putting on a show; running through all of her hits and giving the audience that classic Jackson effort.  Then she brought on Justin Timberlake as a guest performer to perform and this happened.  “Nipple-gate” is what it was affectionately called by folks who were too lazy to get more creative than simply adding “gate” after the word to express importance.  The entire country was up in arms over the fact that children had to be subjugated to Janet Jackson’s left nipple.  It was okay for CBS to have crime dramas where people are shot and stabbed but a breast was too much.  The media dragged Janet’s name through the mud over and over again.  

When I watched Justin’s apology, I noticed something was different.  Out were the bandanas and cornrow-look.  A simple, calculated wardrobe replaced the “hood” clothes.  The “swag” was gone too.  All that was left was a lily-white singer running away from accountability and allowing the black woman to take all the heat.  He relied on the claim that it was a wardrobe malfunction, which would have been okay if he wasn’t the “mal” in the function.  It would have been okay if he wasn’t the one who actually ripped off the breastplate from Janet’s dress, coincidentally, at the part of the song where he says, “I’m gonna have you naked by the end of this song.”  It was, at the very least, a self-fulfilling prophecy yet no one saw this at a problem.  It was Janet’s black nipple so it was her cross to bear - Justin was receiving awards at the Grammy's not even a week later, on the same network.

I had enough.  I was done.  That incident and Justin’s reaction insulted me to the very core of my blackness and I no longer cared to see him prance around on stage, catering to the same group of people that he just turned his back on.  Being “black” was apparently good enough for the studio but not during controversy.  I hated the fact that after that incident, he became more famous.  During those years, I felt like I was the only one that saw the façade behind those blond curls.  As the years went by, my position reluctantly began to soften.  I decided to watch the movie Alpha Dog and not only was it surprisingly good, his acting was solid as well.  I was also forced to learn that he was pretty damn funny and versatile.  Somewhere between “D**k in a Box” and his role as the Napster kid, I actually enjoyed watching him again.  But then I would hear that Usher song or any reference to Janet Jackson’s anatomy and it would put me back at square one.  This back and forth went on for years. 

Ironically while I waged my silent feud with J.T., I was defending another white Justin’s credibility.  When Justin Bieber launched on the scene, he literally owned the Internet.  If Justin Timberlake’s cornrows in were considered "black", then Bieber’s sagging pants, tattoos and slang was Tupac Shakur.  For all intents and purposes, that little 16-year-old Canadian should have been public enemy number #1.  However hearing his story and watching his documentary on Netflix, showed some authenticity under that "snapback".  Bieber was born in 1994.  By the time he reached his formative years, black music and culture – especially hip-hop and R&B – was international and it was apart of his environment as much as it was any kid from Detroit or Atlanta.  One of his first YouTube “hits” was a cover of a black artist’s song.  Usher, in an amazing twist of circumstance, was his hero and eventual mentor and boss.  He didn’t come across as someone trying to exploit black culture but rather a kid who was influenced by a culture that just happened to be started by black people.  Subtle change in words, big difference in meaning.

Looking back over the last year or two, I wonder if I had been wrong about Justin Timberlake this whole time.  J.T. and I are practically the same age and he is from Memphis, which means he’s had enough access to black music and culture to develop a legitimate affinity for it.  Perhaps the bubble gum pop music was the façade and deep down he wanted to belt out soul music and work with legendary southern rap producers?  Maybe he wasn’t playing a “race card” when he got into trouble at the Superbowl and was simply a scared 20-something who didn’t want to see his career get flushed down the toilet?  Justin may have actually wanted to say more to defend Janet but allowed the dozens of people in his ear to dissuade him.  What if all the disdain that I harbored over the last 15 years were completely baseless, and I wasted time not appreciating one of the best entertainers of my generation? 

I give credit to Justin Bieber’s rise to stardom for, in essence, giving me the perspective that allowed me to see that our world is ever-changing into a shade of gray rather than the strict black and white paradox that I was born into.  It felt good seeing Bieber have his success without the media claiming that he’s some kind of “King” or that Chris Brown is some how getting his cues from him.  There are very few feelings better than truly letting go of anger because you never really know how heavy that weight is until it’s gone.  As “Suit & Tie”, Justin Timberlake’s latest single featuring my favorite rapper (who happens to be black), plays in my car, I bump my head with no guilt or hesitation.  I enjoyed his performance on Saturday Night Live and realized that each of his last 3 movies were highly rated on my Netflix list.  Now that I see things clearly, I guess I’m getting the “20/20” experience.

Thanks Justin(s).