Paris Jackson has been a superstar her entire life despite being only 24 years old and the second child of the iconic musician Michael Jackson.
Paris has experienced several difficulties since the death of her father. But, the gifted young lady is currently pursuing her own singing career.
Despite the ups and downs in her life, she has now made the decision to talk about her upbringing with her father, known as the “King of Pop.” Few, if any, individuals are unaware of Michael Jackson’s existence.
Michael Jackson – “King of Pop”
You know, you’re not referred to as “The King of Pop” for nothing, do you? Even while we like the late singer’s music, his life wasn’t always easy.
Michael had domestic issues from the beginning, when he performed with his siblings in the Jackson Five, which were made worse by a strict father who was quick to discipline his children if they disobeyed.
Michael Jackson may be considered a product, someone who was created from an early age to be an entertainer and vocalist. That won’t change the fact that his music, dance, and songwriting are all absolute masterpieces.
When Michael Jackson passed away in 2009, the whole world mourned the singer. He had been chased by paparazzis’ and tabloid newspapers for pretty much his entire life, but not even when he was laid to rest for the last time was he spared.
Paris Jackson – Michael’s daughter
Several media helicopters followed the helicopters delivering his body from the hospital in Los Angeles. News about Michael Jackson and his family is still reported on all around the world today.
Nowadays, his family members receive the majority of the attention. His kids in particular have come under attack since the Jackson family is a popular target for paparazzi.
Paris Jackson, the second child of Jackson, has grown up in the public eye. She is now making every effort to distinguish herself from Michael Jackson’s child and become her own person.
She has been suffering from mental illness for a number of years, yet she is actually doing extremely well.
Paris Jackson – early life
On April 3, 1998, in California, Paris Jackson was born. She is Michael Jackson’s only daughter and his second kid.
She and her brother were both homeschooled up until the sixth grade, which made her early years quite private. The kids were carefully protected from the public because Michael Jackson was keen on allowing them to maintain their seclusion. The children in Michael’s family were either wearing costumes or having their heads wrapped in scarves to conceal their faces in early photographs.
As a result, life on the Neverland Ranch was extremely constrained for Paris and her siblings. No one can deny that they were immensely wealthy, but it must have also been difficult.
Speaking with supermodel Naomi Campbell, Paris Jackson opened up about her father, and what her upbringing was like.
She said that Michael Jackson made sure that they were “cultured”.
“My dad was really good about making sure we were cultured, making sure we were educated, and not just showing us like the glitz and glam, like hotel hopping, five-star places,” Paris said.
“It was also like, we saw everything. We saw third world countries. We saw every part of the spectrum.”
Speaks out on her childhood
Paris Jackson lived all over the world during her childhood days, as her father toured across the globe to play in front of hundreds of thousands of people.
She claims to have been quite appreciative of her “rich” upbringing. Paris also discovered early on that she should not feel entitled. Her father made sure that the kids understood the idea of working hard to attain what they want.
“Even growing up it was about earning stuff,” Paris said. “If we wanted five toys from FAO Schwarz or Toys ‘R’ Us, we had to read five books.
“It’s earning it, not just being entitled to certain things or thinking ‘oh I got this’,” she added. “It’s like working for it, working hard for it, it’s something else entirely, it’s an accomplishment.”
Paris was only 11 years old when her father passed away
Tragic passing of Michael Jackson
On June 25, 2009, “The King of Pop” experienced a heart arrest at home and soon after being taken to a neighboring hospital, he passed suddenly. According to Michael Jackson’s will, Paris and her brothers were placed in Katherine Jackson’s legal custody.
Paris, then 11 years old, spoke briefly about her father in front of the entire world during the funeral service that was broadcast on television.
“Ever since I was born, daddy has been the best father you could ever imagine,” she said. “And I just wanted to say I love him so much.”
Paris and her brothers, Prince Michael, 12, and Prince Michael II, 7, were all in attendance during the televised memorial service. In fact, that was pretty much the first time the world caught more than just a glimpse of Jackson’s children.
Then, in January 2010, they were once again were seen in public while accepting a posthumous Lifetime Achievement Award for their father at the 2010 Grammy
Paris Jackson – life after Neverland
In November the same year, Paris appeared on the Oprah Winfrey Show to speak about her father, saying that he was amazing.
“I kind of felt like no one understood what a good father he was, he was the best cook ever,” she told Winfrey. “He was just a normal dad.”
“He made the best French toast in the world,” Paris added.
When Michael Jackson passed away, Paris Jackson moved into a mansion in Calabasas, California, with her grandmother Katherine Jackson, as well as other members of her family.
When she turned 19, she decided to move into Michael Jackson’s private studio at the family compound, which she transformed into a dorm-style bedroom.
Losing your father is hard as it is. But for Paris, it was much more than that. All of a sudden, she was expected to carry on her father’s legacy.
“I tried to grow up too fast”
Upon starting seventh grade, Paris decided to attend a private school. At this point, the only ones accepting her for who she was were the older kids, and it didn’t turn out perfect.
“I was doing a lot of things that 13-, 14-, 15-year-olds shouldn’t do. I tried to grow up too fast, and I wasn’t really that nice of a person,” she tells us.
Around the same time, social media had become a thing, and Paris faced cyberbullying.
“The whole freedom-of-speech thing is great,” she explained. “But I don’t think that our Founding Fathers predicted social media when they created all of these amendments and stuff.”
Paris went through a lot of trauma as a teenager. She even tried taking her own life following a very serious incident, but that was also somewhat of a turning point.
She spent her sophomore year, as well as half her junior year, at a therapeutic school in Utah, which was great for her.
“I’m a completely different person,” she said. “I was crazy. I was actually crazy, I was going through a lot of, like, teen angst. And I was also dealing with my depression and my anxiety without any help.”
Paris Jackson – career
Paris graduated high school in 2015 – one year early – but by this point, she had a lot on her mind. She was one of the heirs of Michel Jackson’s billion-dollar heritage, and everyone saw her as a celebrity, even though she actually hadn’t done anything.
Now, though, Jackson is heading in the same direction as her father: the entertainment business. She’s taken her father’s advice seriously: if you want something, you have to put in work to get it. During the Naomi Campbell interview, Paris stated that she was a “full believer” that she should earn her own success.
For someone born into ridiculous wealth, as the child of one of the most famous people in modern history, this is something we truly adore Paris for. No matter what has happened in her past or who her father is, she wants to do her own thing.
She grew up around only adults except for her siblings. When she left Neverland to go to a real school, it was a big change for her. She grew up as the child of Michael Jackson, but for her, the world was more than that. And in the beginning, it sure was hard.
“Once I got introduced into the real world, I was shocked. It blew me away,” Paris explained. “Not just because it was sexist, but misogynist and racist and cruel. It was scary as hell. And it still is really scary.”
Modeling and music
So what did Paris do? Well, she went her own way, starting out working as a model. And she has a real talent for it!
In recent years, she’s been on the covers of some of the world’s most influential magazines, including Rolling Stone, Vogue and Narcisse to name a few.
For Paris, modeling is a very therapeutic and natural thing. Many were shocked when her father transformed via his many plastic surgeries. But in this age of social media and cyberbullying, Paris understands his choice.
“I’ve had self-esteem issues for a really, really long time,” she said. “Plenty of people think I’m ugly, and plenty of people don’t. But there’s a moment when I’m modeling where I forget about my self-esteem issues and focus on what the photographer’s telling me – and I feel pretty. And in that sense, it’s selfish.”
Through her Instagram page, Paris’s followers can see her life as she seems to like spending time with her friends, doing all the things in life she couldn’t really experience at a younger age.
Released her first album
She released her debut album Wilted in 2020, following in her father’s musical footsteps. Paris Jackson is doing music, but her CD is indie folk rather than the R&B and pop style for which her father was famous.
“It’s mainly just a story of heartbreak and love, in general, and the thoughts and feelings that come after it doesn’t work out,” she remarked.
Paris Jackson grew up with her father’s music, and she says she knows all the words to his songs. At the same time as she created her own sound, it’s inevitable that Michael Jackson’s taste in music influenced her.
“He loved classical music and jazz and Hip Hop and R&B and obviously the Motown stuff,” she says.
Paris Jackson has paid tribute to her father on her body, acquiring more than 50 tattoos. Nine of them are devoted to Michael Jackson.
She has learned to cope with the devastating loss of her father rather than believing that time will make everything better.
She remembers Michael Jackson visiting her in her dreams, so she knows he will always be there with her.
“I live life with the mentality of ‘OK, I lost the only thing that has ever been important to me.’” she mentioned. “So going forward, anything bad that happens can’t be nearly as bad as what happened before. So I can handle it.
“I feel him with me all the time.”
People who have experienced parental loss may undoubtedly relate to Paris and the pain she is going through. Nobody, however, has had the same level of experience growing up as Paris Jackson had.
We’re ecstatic that she may now go about her business without being followed everywhere she goes by paparazzi. Paris, good luck!
Please, share this article with friends and family if you also think Paris Jackson is a brave woman!
My Neighbor Totally Ruined My Windows with Paint after I Refused to Pay $2,000 for Her Dog’s Treatment
When Julia refuses to pay $2000 for a minor injury to her neighbor’s dog, it sparks an escalating feud. As tensions rise, Julia must navigate the chaos while dealing with family struggles. But after her neighbor splatters paint over Julia’s windows, she snaps and plots some dastardly revenge.
Let me tell you about the time I almost lost my mind living in what was supposed to be a peaceful suburban neighborhood.
My name is Julia, and for over a decade, I lived in this cozy little house with my husband Roger, and our ten-year-old son, Dean.
A cute suburban home | Source: Pexels
Life was pretty good, if you ignored the constant worry about Roger’s health. But everything changed when Linda moved in next door.
Linda. Just thinking about her makes my blood boil. She moved in with her golden retriever, Max, and from day one, we never saw eye to eye.
It wasn’t anything major at first, just little things like her loud music or the way she’d let Max wander wherever he pleased. But one sunny afternoon, things took a turn for the worse.
A golden retriever dog | Source: Pexels
I was in my backyard, pruning my roses, when Max came trotting over, wagging his tail like he owned the place. Sweet dog, really, but curious. He sniffed around and before I knew it, he let out a yelp.
Poor thing had gotten a tiny thorn in his paw. I knelt, soothed him, and gently removed the thorn. Max licked my hand, and I gave him a pat on the head.
I walked him back to Linda’s, expecting maybe a thank you. Instead, she stood there with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
An angry woman standing outside her home | Source: Midjourney
“Why is my dog limping? What did you do?” she snapped.
“He just stepped on a little thorn,” I replied, trying to keep my cool. “I took it out, and he’s fine.”
She huffed, and I thought that was the end of it. Boy, was I wrong!
I stormed over to Julia’s house, my blood boiling. I pounded on her door, holding up the incriminating evidence.
The next morning, I found a note stuck to my door. It read, “You owe me $2000 for Max’s treatment.”
I stared at it, dumbfounded. Two thousand dollars? For what? The dog had a minor scratch, nothing more. I decided to go over and clear things up.
A shocked woman holding a note | Source: Midjourney
“Linda, what’s this about?” I asked, holding up the note.
“That’s for Max’s vet bill,” she said, her tone icy. “He was in pain all night because of that thorn.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s ridiculous,” I replied. “I’ll give you a hundred dollars as a goodwill gesture, but two thousand is out of the question.”
Linda’s eyes narrowed. “Either you pay up, or you’ll regret it.”
From that day on, Linda made my life a living hell.
A woman standing in a quiet suburban street | Source: Midjourney
She’d knock over my garbage cans, honk and flip me off whenever she drove by. The worst was when she tried to get Dean arrested. My sweet, innocent Dean, who was just riding a mini bike like all the other neighborhood kids.
One afternoon, I was sitting on the porch, sipping some tea, when I heard the familiar sound of Linda’s car horn blaring. I looked up to see her glaring at Dean, who was playing in the driveway.
“Get that brat off that bike before I call the cops!” she screamed.
An angry woman leaning out her car window | Source: Midjourney
“Linda, they’re just kids!” I shouted back, feeling my patience wear thin.
“Your kid’s a menace,” she retorted, “and if you don’t do something about it, I will.”
I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but I couldn’t. Roger was in the hospital again, and I was already stretched thin, trying to keep everything together. I took a deep breath and turned to Dean.
“Come inside, honey,” I said gently. “We’ll play something else.”
“But Mom, I didn’t do anything wrong,” Dean protested, tears welling up in his eyes.
A young boy with tears in his eyes | Source: Pexels
“I know, sweetie. It’s just… complicated.”
I tried to ignore Linda’s antics, focusing on Roger and Dean. But it was like living next to a ticking time bomb. Every day, I dreaded what she’d do next. And then she finally pushed me over the edge.
It was a Sunday afternoon when I got the call. Roger’s condition had taken a turn for the worse, and I needed to get to the hospital immediately.
I packed up our things, dropped Dean at my mom’s place, and rushed to the hospital.
A hospital lit up at night | Source: Pexels
For two agonizing days, I stayed by Roger’s side, barely eating or sleeping, my mind a whirlwind of fear and exhaustion.
When I finally came home, I was hoping for a brief respite, a moment to gather my strength.
Instead, I walked up my driveway to find my house transformed into a graffiti artist’s nightmare. Red and yellow paint splattered across my windows, running down in messy streaks.
It looked like someone had tried to turn my home into a circus tent. And there, right on the doorstep, was a note from Linda: “Just to make your days brighter!”
Paint splattered on a house | Source: Midjourney
I stood there, trembling with rage, the exhaustion of the past two days evaporating in the heat of my anger. This was it. This was the breaking point.
“Dean, go inside,” I said through gritted teeth.
“But Mom, what happened?” he asked, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.
“Just go inside, honey,” I repeated, softer this time, trying to keep my voice steady.
Dean nodded and hurried inside, leaving me alone with my fury.
A boy wearing a backpack | Source: Pexels
I crumpled Linda’s note in my hand, my mind racing. Enough was enough. If Linda wanted a war, she was going to get one.
Before she could answer, a wail came from inside the house. I glanced past Julia and saw her son, Dean, sitting on the floor, tears streaming down his face.
That afternoon, I drove to the hardware store. I wandered the aisles, my anger giving way to a cold, calculating focus. I spotted the Japanese Beetle traps, and a plan began to form.
I bought several packs of the traps and the scent lures that attract the beetles. When I got home, I placed the scent packs in the freezer. The cold would make the wax easier to handle. My heart pounded with a mix of nerves and anticipation. This had to work.
A woman shopping in a hardware store | Source: Pexels
At three a.m., I crept into Linda’s yard, the neighborhood silent under the cover of darkness.
I felt like a character in one of those spy movies Roger loved so much. Every rustle of leaves, every distant sound made my heart leap. But I was determined. I buried the scent packs deep under the mulch in Linda’s meticulously maintained flower beds.
By the time I finished, the first light of dawn was starting to break.
Early morning in a suburban neighborhood | Source: Pexels
I slipped back into my house, my pulse finally starting to slow. I climbed into bed, exhausted but feeling a grim satisfaction. Now, it was a waiting game.
The next afternoon, I peeked out my window and saw them—swarms of Japanese beetles, glinting in the sunlight as they descended on Linda’s garden. It was working.
Over the next few days, her beautiful flower beds were decimated, the once vibrant blooms reduced to tattered remnants.
A beetle on a flower | Source: Pexels
Linda’s Perspective: Beetles, Blame, and a Change of Heart
Let me set the record straight. My name is Linda, and I moved into this neighborhood hoping for some peace and quiet.
That dream was shattered when my golden retriever, Max, wandered into Julia’s yard and got a thorn in his paw. Instead of just returning him, she acted like she was doing me a favor by pulling it out.
The next day, I asked Julia to cover Max’s vet bill.
A dog lying on a sofa | Source: Pexels
I mean, he was limping and in pain all night. But she had the nerve to offer me only $100 instead of the $2000 it cost. We argued, and I told her she’d regret not paying up. I didn’t expect things to get so out of hand.
Sure, I knocked over her garbage cans a few times and honked when I drove by—just to show her I wasn’t backing down. But Julia made me out to be the villain.
It wasn’t until my garden was destroyed by beetles that I realized things had gone too far.
A woman stressfully examining plants in her garden | Source: Midjourney
I was frantic, running around my yard like a mad woman. On the third day, I was pulling out dead flowers when I spotted something odd buried in the mulch. It was a piece of plastic packaging, and my heart sank as I realized what it was—part of a Japanese Beetle trap.
Someone had done this on purpose. And I had a pretty good idea who it was.
I stormed over to Julia’s house, my blood boiling. I pounded on her door, holding up the incriminating evidence.
A front door | Source: Pexels
“Julia! Open up!” I shouted, my voice shaking with rage.
She opened the door, looking as calm as ever. “Linda, what’s going on?”
“What did you do to my garden?” I thrust the piece of plastic at her. “I found this in my flower bed. You did this, didn’t you?”
Julia’s face remained neutral, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—guilt, maybe. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Linda.”
“Don’t lie to me!” I screamed. “You ruined my garden! Why would you do this?”
An angry woman shouting | Source: Pexels
Before she could answer, a wail came from inside the house. I glanced past Julia and saw her son, Dean, sitting on the floor, tears streaming down his face.
“Mom, is Dad going to die?” Dean sobbed, his little voice breaking.
Julia turned away from me, her face softening as she went to her son. “No, honey, he’s going to be okay. The doctors are doing everything they can.”
I stood there, frozen, watching this scene unfold. Suddenly, my anger seemed so petty.
A boy wiping his tears | Source: Pexels
Julia wasn’t just my annoying neighbor—she was a woman dealing with a sick husband and a scared child.
“Julia, I…” I started, but my words faltered. What could I say? I had been so consumed by my anger, that I hadn’t stopped to consider what she might be going through.
Julia looked back at me, exhaustion etched into her features. “I’m sorry about your garden, Linda. But I didn’t do it. I have enough to deal with without worrying about your flowers.”
An emotional woman | Source: Pexels
The fight drained out of me. “I’m sorry, too,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know things were this bad for you.”
She nodded, not saying anything. I backed away, feeling like an idiot. How had I let things get so out of hand?
After that, I kept to myself. I stopped the petty harassment, realizing that Julia had enough on her plate. My garden slowly recovered, and while Julia and I never became friends, we managed to coexist peacefully.
A well-kept garden | Source: Pexels
Years later, I still think about that time. Sometimes, you need to look beyond your own troubles to see what others are going through. Julia and I have remained distant neighbors, but there’s a quiet understanding between us—a mutual respect born out of adversity.
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