Moonage Daydream

I’m an alligator! I’m a mama-papa coming for you; I’m the space invader; I’ll be a rock’n’rollin’ bitch for you…

So the gospel of the leper messiah blows open our minds. How much of our demand-to-be-who-you-are identity politics can be laid before Ziggy Stardust’s god-given thighs? Ziggy is the true messiah of living in pursuit of hedonism and personal expression. Maybe David Bowie didn’t know he would be saving souls when he stepped out as an omnisexual alien, but for many, the appearance of Ziggy was akin to an encounter with a burning bush, an annunciation of a new way of being. I may know an old queen or two who pitter-pattered their way out of the closet because Ziggy told them to. And even if you haven’t got a closet to come out of, learning that self-expression is an art and your identity is your greatest project is transformative. I think that the increased perception of identity as something you create for yourself, rather than something foisted upon you by the circumstances of your birth, is changing the world for the better. So much suffering and oppression stems from society punishing people for deviating from their perceived roles, roles they didn’t choose for themselves in the first place. I believe in a future society in which self-created roles are valid and universal, personal identity is no longer policed from the outside, and we are no longer forced to make our most intimate life choices under social duress. In the past, we haven’t given much credit to entertainment and art as agents of change, but we need to start, because those the songs that saved your life will save the world.


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