The Eighties Were So Gay

Arriving to college at the close of the Eighties, I remember encountering a new feeling of generational inferiority. My theater instructors celebrated the artistic and political breakthroughs of the Sixties. Meanwhile, my Ethnic Studies professors expressed deserved pride in the accomplishments of the Seventies, such as the founding of their departments. At that time, the Eighties were identified with staid, conservative Reaganism. We were "Generation X," the in-between, as-yet-untitled generation. We were neither Baby-Boomer nor whatever monumental thing was coming next. No wars or depression to mark us as "The Greatest Generation." No restive resistance to label us "The Civil Rights Generation." We had yet to distinguish ourselves, to show the world what we had to offer.

Little did we realize that the Eighties were the gayest time ever. Only in retrospect do we see that this was a time when virtually all pop stars were either gay or gender-bending. MTV was just launched when I was about to enter middle school, that formative time when gender identity begins to crystallize. Musicians such as Wham!, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Queen, Bowie, Culture Club, Cyndi Lauper, Joan Jett, Madonna, Eurythmics, Michael Jackson, Dead or Alive, and Prince paraded across the small screen in my living room. Even straight-identified people such as myself, would grow their hair out in androgynous styles. This was the age of the jheri curl, pink-wearing preppies, and hair bands ("Dude Looks Like a Lady" or, more properly, "...Ladaaay"). Tough-guy Don Johnson wore pastels.

I loved Prince's and Michael Jackson's music, knew that Annie Lennox was hot, and thought little of the eccentricity of the moment. My mother put it in perspective, looking over my shoulder as I watched the "Little Red Corvette" video: "Oh, he is so gay. There is no way a straight guy would dance like that." I thought to myself, if that's gay dancing, what does straight dancing look like?

The real answer is there was no such thing as straight dancing. (Or maybe Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark" video showed what it looked like when he said "Hey Baby" to Courtney Cox. It was ugly in any case.) Gay secretly dominated the Eighties. We may not have recognized it at the time, but this would be our generation's contribution. Even during those swelteringly boring days of economic and political conservatism, as suburban life drew full nostalgic circle to the myth of 1950s nuclear families, we nevertheless enjoyed a period that redefined gender.

Alas, it didn't last. Boy George is now depressed and incarcerated. George Michael may be out, but he is also prone to being arrested, passed out in his car. Prince dresses like a man as does Duran, Duran. Marilyn Manson is the afterbirth of the Eighties, distorted and angry for being left behind.

Nevertheless, I feel personally enriched for being a product of the Eighties, as someone who is slightly less scarred by homophobia than generations past. We are now of voting age and helped in the fight against Proposition 8 in California. It still passed with 52% of the vote, of course, but those opposed to same-sex marriage are diminishing, questioning their prejudice or dying off. And if our health care system remains in disrepair, they will perish more quickly! (One morbid side-effect of an uncompassionate society, I suppose.) Generation X and its followers will soon help lead the way to a more just society.

No, our contribution was not revolutionary by any means. Ours merely commercialized and popularized the strides of earlier generations. But it made a big difference.

I discovered only recently that several of my middle-school friends later came out as gay. Unbeknownst to me, I was once a member of the "in" crowd before they came out.

(Credit to my friend Richard M. Wright for the jheri curl reminder.)