The last prominent mention of OJ Simpson that I can remember before yesterday was this:
In a song about wealth not being sufficient to escape racism Jay Z offers one of his famously short and pointed dismissals. In this case of O.J.’s claim of being not Black.
O.J. like I’m not Black I’m O.J.
… OK
The ultimate point of the song (which has a rather problematic claim about Jews) is that wealth and fame won’t protect you if you don’t plan for the future. Jay Z sees ultimate freedom in generational wealth and a solid investing strategy. He contrasts this with spending money on frivolous displays of wealth. I’m not entirely sure how O.J. figures into this, besides maybe that O.J. found that his wealth wasn’t a match for the legal system. Yes, he succeeded in getting away with murder (allegedly), but he ended up being relatively broke for the rest of his life.
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I was SoCal teenage Chicano when the O.J. saga was going on. I remember it as a lot of things— a joke for late night TV, something white people were freaking out about, and a sort of chance to see how things had changed since the LA Riots (or rebellion, if you prefer). There was a lot of suggestions that there would be a revival of those riots.
When O.J. was acquitted, there was celebration by Black communities, as O.J.’s wealth had allowed him to subvert the justice system. A system that had unfairly targeted Black people like Rodney King and given a light sentence to the killer of Latasha Harlins just a few years before. As I wasn’t Black and wasn’t entirely white I didn’t have a strong reaction one way or the other. It was just another pop culture event that wasn’t particularly relevant to my life, and I was glad I wouldn’t have to see any more Dancing Ito’s on Jay Leno’s stupid show.
I’m not reporting this firsthand, but I understand that there was a very angry reaction from white people, who didn’t like getting their justice system thrown back in their face. Too bad so sad. I was a young Chicano skateboarder—Fuck the Police resonated with me even if I was more of a secondary target of the cops.
But I think there was also something else that was driving that rage, something that we saw again when Bill Cosby was unmasked as a serial rapist. O.J. was “one of the good ones.”
One of the good ones is a shameful phrase. Never have a been more ashamed than when I heard someone say it to me. I resolved as a Chicano man to never have that happen again, I’d be out and proud so that no one wouldn’t know who my people were, even by omission. But O.J. courted that.
Throughout his career as a football player, actor and celebrity, Simpson had scrupulously avoided saying anything about issues involving race. He reportedly used to tell friends, “I’m not Black, I’m O.J.” Indeed, he was so beloved because he was seen as nonconfrontational and nonthreatening.
That changed when he was arrested:
Faced with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in prison, however, he embraced his Blackness. His professed new racial consciousness allowed some Black Americans — certainly not all — to at least consider the possibility that he was yet another Black man being brutalized by a racist justice system. After all, the trial was taking place just three years after the Los Angeles riots, sparked when the police officers who savagely beat Rodney King were judged to have done nothing wrong.
Which seems… convenient. And I don’t know that he ever became popular with either group again. He lived out the rest of his life in a series of hapless, clumsy and stupid episodes. For white people, I think it was a bummer. White people loved the old O.J. White people would have similar response to Bill Cosby’s fall from grace. Another one of the good ones had failed them.
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O.J.’s death didn’t cause a lot of complicated feelings in me because I hadn’t thought about him since 2017, when the above video was released. “Fuck that guy” was my comment. Dead wife killer. Oh well.
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But there’s been a bit of an argument here about how much we’re supposed to celebrate the guy’s death. It’s an interesting question. What does anyone owe to the memory of O.J.?
To take a step back, O.J. wasn’t Black, he was O.J.
Do we take him at his word, or do we accept Jay’s premise that wealth won’t change his essential Blackness? We know how O.J. would answer—he’s black when it’s convenient to be. And now that he’s dead, which O.J. are we talking about?
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I don’t know the answer to this question. I’m trying to start a conversation. The arguments here have largely devolved into I’m not racist and that’s what someone who doesn’t understand racism would say.
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There’s a big reason why a lot of people are confused— #metoo. We’re no longer trying to ignore famous peoples’ acts against women. And this puts us in a bind. O.J. was a violent misogynist. He should be condemned for that. But he’s also Black and a victor in the battle against a racist system.
Further complicating things was BLM. We should all remember the names- Trayvon Martin, Breonna Taylor, Tamir Rice. Those were what you might call perfect victims of police or vigilante violence. They were just minding their own business when they were killed. And we remember Michael Brown and George Floyd as imperfect victims. They might have been problematic in some ways, but nothing they did deserved a death sentence. Protesters, white, Black and otherwise, chanted these names. And any white fury directed at these people was rightly considered racist.
What are white people being asked to do here? Let’s say everyone agrees that celebrating O.J. being dead is bad. And white liberals say fine, we won’t celebrate even though the guy was a villain. That’s probably a fine request for white liberals in America if it’s done in a way that allows white liberals to save face.
But beneath that is something that I imagine a lot of white people (and people like myself) are dreading being asked. If we agree that celebrating O.J. is bad, does that mean we have to start calling out people who do? That’s asking a lot.
I don’t understand asking people not to celebrate the death of a murderer on account of a confusing argument about systematic racism on behalf of a guy who was acquitted on account of his wealth. I know white people. I’m friends with white people. This argument isn’t going to go anywhere.
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There’s another thing that I would like to understand- there have been Black celebrities that are the subject of white fury and pushback against that fury seems to be considered bad form. This group includes R Kelly, Dave Chappelle, Candace Owens, Clarence Thomas (although I think there’s sometimes a racial element here), and others.
My final question is—why isn’t O.J. in this group?
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All of us who lived through or came of age in the 90s are somewhat scarred. The first half was a violent, scary time. So many of our heroes died. There was crack and heroin and AIDS and police brutality and Republicans. I can understand that anger lingering for decades. I’m just not sure it’s aimed at the right target here.
