David Bowie Was a Beacon of Hope to Me and Many Queer Youth

This morning I woke up to a text from my cousin telling me that David Bowie had died. I cried for a minute, woke my girlfriend up, made smoothies, did yoga, took a bath, and walked a few blocks to a coffee shop to do some work.

I live in the Bywater in New Orleans, and as I write this, “The Prettiest Star” is blaring in the punk-hipster shop I am in. Actually, David Bowie has been the background music since I sat down an hour ago. Occasionally, as I write I am struck with tears in my eyes. I look around to see a café filled with gender-bending queers, artists, musicians, people of all ages, and understand that it’s a world David Bowie helped form.

Bowie was not just a glam-rock musician. He was a strong activist who raised copious amounts of money for numerous AIDS foundations during and after the height of the AIDS epidemic. For me, many of my friends, and people around the world he was also the first gender-fluid person we were introduced to. Bowie told us gender was merely a fashion statement. In recent years he’s been my solace as I’ve moved into a place of identifying as a bisexual man. There aren’t many openly bi men in mainstream media. I’d always think, Well, at least we have David Bowie and Frank Ocean. Bowie was just himself, and he enforced a new gender code allowing the rest or the world to do the same.

David Bowie has played an intrinsic part in my upbringing in many other ways. I’m a trans guy. I was raised in South Carolina. I’ve always been a queer, artistic, smart person with a deep love for music and performance. Being that kind of kid in the South can be hard on a person, so you need to get creative when seeking ways to be happy. 

There have not been many times in my life when I could pinpoint a productive conversation I had with my father. He was abusive and an alcoholic, and he made fun of me about all of my interests. My dad was homophobic and transphobic, but surprisingly, he liked David Bowie an was actually the person who introdced his music to me at a really early age. In fact, the only time I can think of a conversation that I walked away from without hurt feelings with my dad was about David Bowie. 

For me as a lost teenager, there was something wonderful and accessible about Bowie. In high school I met other people who liked David Bowie. We also liked Hedwig and would throw glam rock-themed parties. We'd play Velvet Goldmine on VHS and wear all types of creative costumes. These parties let us play with gender in a way that felt safe to us all at that time. This is radical in South Carolina. 

I have a fond memory of my 14-year old self getting stoned and making sweet tea. I'd lie in the backyard trying to put blond streaks in my hair using lemons and the hot South Carolina sunshine as Bowie and sugary black tea filled me up. I was rarely happy as a teen, but I like this memory.

I remember using my AIM name in high school: Moonage7Daydream. I would stay up all night and talk to the girl I was in love with under the guise of being “a huge Bowie fan” and I'd utter lines like “Bowie is God. Bowie doesn't need gender, only glitter.”

When I got sober at age 21, I was asked to find a higher power in the 12-step program I joined. I told my sponsor that I believed in nothing. She asked me to pray to anything that gave me hope. I used to light a candle under my Aladdin Sane poster in my basement apartment every night before bed. I'd get on my knees and pray to David Bowie. I'd say things like, “Dear David Bowie, please help me stay sober today because I am tired of being in pain.”

I've continued to follow Bowie's career and still put his songs (new and old) on mix CDs for loved ones today. His genius and openess have been so affirming for me. These are only a few stories about me and David Bowie. I know that I am not alone in my nostalgia and grief over him. I remember the fun parties I went to as a kid. One night a group of us huddled over a bottle of whiskey and loudly sang, “And these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds are immune to your consultations.They're quite aware of what they're going through...”

I am grateful to have felt some level of normalcy and connection through Bowie in a culture that makes us feel like outcasts. I also wonder if my dad is thinking of me today as he hears the news. While I pray to someone other than David Bowie today, I have to thank that power for Bowie existing.