12.29.16 Editor’s Desk

12.29.16 Editor’s Desk

“These are the days of the open hand; they will not be the last.”

It was Christmas Day around 3 p.m. My husband Tony and I were moonage daydreaming to the sounds of David Bowie via a box set Who Can I Be Now that was his key present this year – that and some ridiculous kitchen appliance madness and a headlamp for his actual head – and we were in a great mood. I mean, the ashes to ashes had fermented into an amazement and appreciation nearly a year after Blackstar, nearly a year after Bowie’s death. Lazarus, indeed.

Tony was in the kitchen preparing hams and beefs for our guests’ arrival, we were somewhere between Station to Station and Diamond Dogs, and I suggested that maybe we take a breather. You see, every Sunday I’ve liked to pull out George Michael’s Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 1, so I thought, “Yeah, I really need to hear ‘Praying for Time.’”

But time didn’t come. Almost one hour after getting through the whole record – and one minute after our first guest arrived – the Tweets and pings and tones of doom started pouring in: George Michael dead at 53.

No. Just, no.

In a year when many of our childhood and adult icons had fallen – Bowie, Prince, Pete Burns to name a few – I wasn’t really prepared to lose the one childhood icon that was so important to my development. The ambivalent gay icon, the voice that soared among all others in the mid-‘80s haze of middle-eights.

My George Michael history probably isn’t of much consequence. I camped out for tickets to the Faith Tour at Miami’s Orange Bowl in 1988 and, in doing so, witnessed my first incident of public fellatio from the persons second in line (I was third). My dear friend Rachel and I were part of the enormous din that crowded his “Monkey,” his “Faith,” his “Hard Day,” his “Freedom.” Seventh row. Center. I took nosebleed seats for his show in St. Pete many years later, and he was still the force of nature we’ll all remember him to be. One more try.

Like some of his peers, he became a bit of a media spectacle, and not in a good way. Well, sometimes. I mean, nobody wants to be passed out in their car at an intersection. But my George Michael – my imaginary husband as a child – was also a character of resilience. After being busted by an undercover cop in a public bathroom for cruising, effectively, he pushed back with all of his might and, well, he fought authority and he won. “Outside” was a triumph of pushback against the cops and a huge hit in the U.K. It was also a statement about our sexualities, individual or otherwise.

The thing I always loved about George Michael – beyond his follicular transformations and seemingly choreographed perfection (insert “Jitterbug!” here) – was that he knew he was an outcast and he made that a song. The Guardian recently coined Michael “a defiant gay icon.” Let’s count the ways. “I Want Your Sex” was the kind of song that was completely out of the pop frame when it was released. The “Explore Monogamy” tag in the video came just at the height of the AIDS epidemic. Its subtext was real.

Then came the manifesto, Listen Without Prejudice Vol. 1, which launched all of the supermodels of note into the stratosphere – Naomi, Linda, all of them – via its “Freedom ‘90” video, a huge kiss-off to his record label with which he was in litigation at the time. The album (and video) did hint at a sexuality that many of us already knew, though with some ambiguity. He wasn’t androgynous by any means, but, in retrospect, he was as talented and gay and sexual as Freddy Mercury before him. He was indeed a gay icon. Who else writes an ode like “Jesus to a Child” about his dead male lover for millions to hear? George Michael was running from the norms that had been imposed upon him, gay or straight, but at his core, he was an honest, sexual, beautiful soul. I will miss him more than anyone can know. I think we all will.

But, as this year comes to a close, we are aiming away from unexpected tragedy in the main. This final 2016 issue of Watermark does have a bit of looking back, but mostly it’s about the sparks that are moving us forward from this abyss. Our Remarkable People issue is always one of my favorites, because it gives me hope, even after a shit year. There are, indeed, people here with us that deserve to be celebrated.

Happy 2017 to you. Time to turn a different corner.

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