Whitney Houston was a singer.
That is all she was. All that mattered anyway. The work mattered. Anything else was superfluous. The rest of it…the drugs, the bad marriage, the erratic behavior…well, they were sad but, ultimately, they were her business, not ours. The work was our business. The work was her gift to us. We were entitled to nothing else.
Whitney Houston died here in Los Angeles Saturday afternoon. From the first report, many of the cable news outlets became “all Whitney, all the time”. We in Los Angeles are used to this. We are the home of all the hype, after all. Sometimes, though, we are surprised…and appalled…at how far others take it.
We have become a nation of voyeurs. More, we have become a nation of entitled voyeurs. We not only want to know all the dirt about those we call “celebrities”, we feel that, because these people are in “the public eye” we’re entitled to know every dirty detail of their often very flawed lives. The other night, while reporting on the death on one of the cable news channel, an alleged journalist said that he was obligated to ask questions about the darker side of Whitney Houston’s life.
Why? What business was it of his? What business is it of ours?
It isn’t as if we have time for this. We don’t. There was lots more going on, even on a Saturday, even on an alleged “slow news day”. Syria continued to brutalize its own people in the teeth of international outrage. The Russians and Chinese, to the disgust of the international community, continued to support them. The Republican Presidential candidates each tried to outdo the others in kissing the feet of the far right. The R’s had a caucus in Maine whose results were announced minutes before Whitney Houston’s body was found.
We have other matters to occupy us. The economy is getting better, but is still difficult for millions who can’t find work. The poverty numbers in this country are a national discgrace. And, lest we forget, our soldiers are still dying in Afghanistan. Against these things, what, really, do the difficulties of one singer matter?
And yet the cult of celebrity goes on. The singer’s death has received media coverage worthy of a President or a king. And no fact or gossip is too sordid or too factually tenuous not to report. Perhaps there are others, those who are called celebrities but have no accomplishments on which to base their celebrity, who deserve this treatment. Whitney Houston was not one of these.
Whitney Houston was an artist. She had her difficulties. She had her triumphs. We should leave them to her. And leave her alone.
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