Madonna was my childhood idol; I was lucky enough to grow up with her during her saucy, cheeky pre-”Like A Virgin” phase, when she looked like an East Village urchin. Of course, I didn’t know what the East Village was at the time, but it’s probably because of Madonna that I eventually did.
She was a gateway for a curiosity about a certain type of experience, and she always seemed fun. Maybe it’s lame, because I became curious about modern art at a young age because of Madonna, and queer culture, and feminism, and so much more else.
Nowadays I have a more complicated relationship to Madonna as a pop culture entity — and, let’s get real, MDNA is my least-favorite Madonna record so far — but loyal to the end, I still love her and her Pussy Riot-supporting self. In an age where pop stars are “brands” and have “platforms” and “followings,” there’s something about Madonna that seems beyond all that, as business-savvy as she is — a kind of intransigence and stubbornness. Sometimes it manifests itself oddly, as I get older myself, I appreciate her resilience, longevity and willingness to troop forward.
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This entry is part of the August Break, organized by the lovely Susannah Conway. A pic a day, words optional. Just life and pictures in the final gasp of summer before fall’s purposefulness sets in. To see all the August Break entries so far, click here.
I’m gearing up to put out my next newsletter; it’s kind of a scribble-scrabble letter about what’s been going on for me in August, and some thoughts on strength and vulnerability. If you’re interested, make sure to subscribe!
Tags: August Break
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I am a writer, secret hippie and subversive romantic. I write 
