Editor's note: The following article is an editorial and the views expressed are the author's own.read more opinion At Griot.
Becoming “famous” as a writer is interesting, to say the least. People either know you (and either like you or hate you) or they don't know you exist at all. I can't tell you how many people I've had to say, “It's okay,” when a friend introduced me and said, “This is Panama Jackson from VSB!!!” I waited as they sympathetically tried to recall every reason they might know me. It can be very humbling. What's more, I'm a writer without a book. Basically, I have to explain to people that I'm a leveled up blogger and podcaster. I'll say this sometimes, but I know it sounds like, “Don't you know this 40-something aspiring rapper?!?!”
It's not all bad, or even mostly bad. When I go out, I almost always run into people I know, largely because of writing and the opportunities that writing has brought me into the public eye. I have appeared on TV, radio, magazines, etc. Being a pop culture persuasion writer is one of those professions where people “get it” when they see you on TV, radio, magazines, or anywhere they know. The first time I appeared on TV (it was a segment on BET's “Weekly with Ed Gordon” show. To save my life, I can't find the video of it, but I do have a photo of me with Ed Gordon), and I got a lot of phone calls. Call me and say hello. -His 5 people from family and friends know that this blog is thing thing.
When you appear on TV and then appear in other places where people might find you on their own, you start to step into “someone's” space and then have access to a little bit of “fame.” And if you're like me and live on the internet for work or whatever, your family and friends can always Google you and see your accomplishments anytime, anywhere.
So I remember my 7-year-old son, who began to be fascinated by the fact that I was “famous.” I use the word famous in quotation marks because I don't consider myself famous, but he is. And he thinks I'm famous. Because when I go somewhere, I meet a lot of people I know and someone asks me if I'm “Panama Jackson.” He's seen the interaction several times at this point. In my house, it's not uncommon to hear that same son yelling into his one of his Amazon devices, “Alexa, is Panama Jackson Famous?” or “Alexa, how old is Panama Jackson?” or “Alexa, does Panama Jackson have a book?”
This son is the one I'm most interested in becoming famous for. He is my child who loves the spotlight the most. He is my most active child. His level of energy and enthusiasm for things is unparalleled. When he commits to something he's interested in, he gives it his all. He was obsessed with Michael Jackson right down to his authentic performances. He wanted to have an MJ themed birthday party for his 7th birthday so he could perform, which he actually did. He is now fully involved in his WWE and for Christmas his wife and I got tickets for him to go to his WWE event. He literally couldn't be happier.
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He's the same in soccer. And my fame. He loves the idea of me becoming famous. Sometimes I wonder why people know me, who I've met, who I know, where I've been, or if I randomly pop into his room and he sees me on his iPad. The constant questions about what you noticed can be frustrating. However, that hassle is short-sighted and unfair. To him, I am famous for all the places I go for entertainment. I'm in the same place (YouTube) as all of his favorite people. Amazon knows about me and his teacher knows about me and told him things I didn't tell him. As far as he knows, his father is a celebrity. That must be daunting.
I didn't grow up with parents that I knew even if I didn't know them. I have cousins who have achieved various levels of fame, usually in sports (I have several cousins who played in the NFL) and sometimes in entertainment. In fact, I remember when I was in college, my cousin was in a local group in Atlanta that had hits on the radio. I'm always like, “So, that girl is singing? That's my cousin! We were never that close, but if we were, I think I would ask her a lot of questions.'' And I was also interested in fame, so I was interested in her fame and what it was like.
And then along comes my child who believes that his father is just as famous as the people he thinks are famous. It's kind of cool, to be honest. My child looks at me like someone who exists in a space with people he finds important. When I walk in a room with celebrities, he thinks I should be where they are. Having famous parents, especially at the age of seven (I imagine), even a minimally famous one like me, is kind of bizarre in a way.
But as a parent, it's also cool to have kids who are so interested in who you are and what makes you so interesting or “famous.” It's especially funny because people see my personality in him. A few weeks ago, we went bowling on a big group date, and after he threw one frame and knocked down one frame and gave a quick performance, a friend of mine said, “He got what he got out of that.” . Single isolated pin. That's true. I see every part of myself in my child. There are worse things than being happy that your child thinks you're cool and awesome and assumes everyone thinks so.
Of course, I think my other kids who are old enough to think that way think the same thing, but they're just not as invested or interested in it. My daughter definitely told her friends how cool she is because I'm a DJ and all that stuff. But she kept it mostly within her own circle and didn't include me. But this kid wants me to know that he knows I'm famous.
you know what? That's nice.
Panama Jackson is a columnist for theGrio. He writes very black stuff, drinks very brown, and is pretty outstanding for a light guy. His greatest accomplishment to date was that after Oprah Winfrey read his work (his greatest work), he received a call from her, but he did not answer the call because the caller ID was “unknown” In that sense, it is consistent with his darkest achievement to date. (blackest).
Be sure to check out the Dear Culture podcast every Thursday on theGrio's Black Podcast Network. I host some of the blackest conversations known to humanity. You may not be able to walk out of a meeting with an afro, but you'll definitely be looking for your afro scene! Listen to Dear Culture on TheGrio's app. Please download from here.
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