Madonna and Me by Laura Barcella Jessica Valenti Page A
Authors: Laura Barcella Jessica Valenti
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authenticity through experimentation. Madonna makes the rules herself, rejecting the constraints of strict dogma to decide what nourishes her spiritually at any given moment. And if her videos and live shows are any indication, part of what has always nourished her most is dancing.
In her “Ray of Light” and “Frozen” videos, Madonna’s performance, to me, seemed like one of transcendent spirituality through movement. And I related to this almost as much as her self-expression through singing, because it was an equally rich outlet for me in high school and college, whether I was performing in school recitals, belly-dancing with my Lebanese and Egyptian friends, or simply boogying with friends at our monthly Prince-inspired dance party. I discovered the beautiful solace that dance provided me, a sacred clearing of my consciousness that I couldn’t find any other way. And I sensed that Madonna reached some similar place when she performed.
A pop-culture shaman, her intoxicating beats appealed to my primal energy, inviting me to leave my mind and simply enjoy my essential nature. She exposed her own truths in a way that inspired
me to relate to her authentically, to the idea that we can evolve and reinvent ourselves, too.
But with evolution and wisdom comes personal insight, and while I love how Madonna seems to embody both Catholicism’s Mary and Hinduism’s Kali (she possesses both a calming and destructive energy) my relationship with Madonna today is complicated. As a faith-loving feminist, I respect her for challenging patriarchal dominance in both the music industry and the political church. But at the same time, I’m disturbed by her subscription to a brand of limitless capitalism that first emerged with her hit song “Material Girl.” Her celebrity and financial success sometimes thrives on the selling of the exoticism and fetishization of women of color—as demonstrated in her geisha-inspired Drowned World tour.
I loathed her when I read her racist comments about dating “disrespectful” black men in a 1991 issue of Spin magazine, years after my initial love affair with her began. Truthfully, I am still working on getting over this betrayal by a woman who has both celebrated and co-opted elements of African American culture.
Though I still define myself as a Christian (with openness to many truths), I stand by Madonna’s free speech and her individual interpretation and expression of her Catholic beliefs. I adored her when she kissed a beautiful black saint in the “Like a Prayer” video, rejecting historical racial and religious constructions. Still, I despised her hypocrisy when she turned against powerful feminist musician Sinead O’Connor, attacking her in the press for tearing up a picture of the pope.
Despite my mixed feelings, I condemn the attacks she continues to receive from Catholic organizations and family groups for simulating masturbation, using erotic iconography, kissing saint figures in her videos, and displaying glittery crosses during her tours. These critics attempt to crucify Madonna because she embodies an unruly brand of the “free will” they preach about but also fear.
Most of all, I respect the way she has transformed our culture and changed our conversation about the inextricable linkage of religion, sexuality, and the feminine divine. Madonna’s rebellious border-crossing both titillates and infuriates us. She is a saint and a sinner, a mirror of us all.
Our Lady of the Hot Pants
Kristin McGonigle
I HEREBY NOMINATE Madonna, by virtue of my tangential connection to the Roman Catholic Church, for sainthood. Yes, I realize saints are supposed to be dead first. Hear me out.
Sainthood is usually reserved for the purest of heart among us, the holiest of souls, those who sacrificed their lives in the name of God, or charity, or hanging out with animals, like Saint Francis. But there are saints for everything: Saint Blaise is the patron saint of
In her “Ray of Light” and “Frozen” videos, Madonna’s performance, to me, seemed like one of transcendent spirituality through movement. And I related to this almost as much as her self-expression through singing, because it was an equally rich outlet for me in high school and college, whether I was performing in school recitals, belly-dancing with my Lebanese and Egyptian friends, or simply boogying with friends at our monthly Prince-inspired dance party. I discovered the beautiful solace that dance provided me, a sacred clearing of my consciousness that I couldn’t find any other way. And I sensed that Madonna reached some similar place when she performed.
A pop-culture shaman, her intoxicating beats appealed to my primal energy, inviting me to leave my mind and simply enjoy my essential nature. She exposed her own truths in a way that inspired
me to relate to her authentically, to the idea that we can evolve and reinvent ourselves, too.
But with evolution and wisdom comes personal insight, and while I love how Madonna seems to embody both Catholicism’s Mary and Hinduism’s Kali (she possesses both a calming and destructive energy) my relationship with Madonna today is complicated. As a faith-loving feminist, I respect her for challenging patriarchal dominance in both the music industry and the political church. But at the same time, I’m disturbed by her subscription to a brand of limitless capitalism that first emerged with her hit song “Material Girl.” Her celebrity and financial success sometimes thrives on the selling of the exoticism and fetishization of women of color—as demonstrated in her geisha-inspired Drowned World tour.
I loathed her when I read her racist comments about dating “disrespectful” black men in a 1991 issue of Spin magazine, years after my initial love affair with her began. Truthfully, I am still working on getting over this betrayal by a woman who has both celebrated and co-opted elements of African American culture.
Though I still define myself as a Christian (with openness to many truths), I stand by Madonna’s free speech and her individual interpretation and expression of her Catholic beliefs. I adored her when she kissed a beautiful black saint in the “Like a Prayer” video, rejecting historical racial and religious constructions. Still, I despised her hypocrisy when she turned against powerful feminist musician Sinead O’Connor, attacking her in the press for tearing up a picture of the pope.
Despite my mixed feelings, I condemn the attacks she continues to receive from Catholic organizations and family groups for simulating masturbation, using erotic iconography, kissing saint figures in her videos, and displaying glittery crosses during her tours. These critics attempt to crucify Madonna because she embodies an unruly brand of the “free will” they preach about but also fear.
Most of all, I respect the way she has transformed our culture and changed our conversation about the inextricable linkage of religion, sexuality, and the feminine divine. Madonna’s rebellious border-crossing both titillates and infuriates us. She is a saint and a sinner, a mirror of us all.
Our Lady of the Hot Pants
Kristin McGonigle
I HEREBY NOMINATE Madonna, by virtue of my tangential connection to the Roman Catholic Church, for sainthood. Yes, I realize saints are supposed to be dead first. Hear me out.
Sainthood is usually reserved for the purest of heart among us, the holiest of souls, those who sacrificed their lives in the name of God, or charity, or hanging out with animals, like Saint Francis. But there are saints for everything: Saint Blaise is the patron saint of
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