When Material Girls Make a Rule

Is Madonna a gay icon? Did she express sexuality on her terms? Do these things matter? And did a young man find himself on the Borderline of allyship as he made a new friend? Yes.

Madonna does not need an introduction. She came into the 80s with a look and an attitude that could not be ignored.

Her dancing, her look, and her songs pushed the line of sexuality. It was on her terms as opposed to a male dominated record industry creating a sex symbol. She was her own and never backed away from controversy.

Like Cyndi Lauper she was on Tipper Gore’s shit list. Tipper Gore was scandalized by Madonna’s “Dress You Up” as much as Cyndi Lauper’s “She Bop.” Those songs became part of the “filthy fifteen” that became the subject of a US Senate hearing in the 80s. Madonna didn’t stop.

Penthouse got some pictures of her in a nude shoot shortly before she became famous. She ignored the controversy. Madonna didn’t stop.

Madonna’s works often use gay culture and symbolism in her music, videos, and stage performances. She was the first major mainstream artist to give gay images and themes explicit mass treatment and exposure. The Christian Right and the Democrats who stood with Tipper and Al Gore tried to suppress that queer friendly and sex positive message. Madonna didn’t stop.

Madonna has been known to say that she would not have a career it if weren’t for the queer community. Her early mentor was an openly gay dance teacher named Christopher Flynn. He believed in her. He gave her the space to grow and that led to the powerhouse she is now.

These days there are many allies for the LGBTQIA+ and sex positive community. In those days, even many queer entertainers stayed in the closet because it could kill a career. Additionally, many female gay icons were always aware of their queer following, but they seemed to hold the queer community at arm’s length with an occasional wink towards them.

Madonna leaned into it, embraced her queer fans, and showcased them as part of the world overtly.

It is easy for me as a white cis man to not understand how representation matters. Even to this day peers of mine say that representation and labels don’t matter. But we are represented everywhere and everyday. When you are “different” than the “norm” to be seen and appreciated as you are safely matters. Because the world is not safe for “different”.

My Senior year of high school I would meet someone who had that representation from Madonna. It changed her and she changed me.

After school I went to my job at the Fox Valley Mall. I worked at a men’s clothing store named Silverman’s. They sold high fashion clothing of the time. Most of my paycheck was spent on the employee discount. I was in a great mood that Thursday. We were having a three day weekend at school for a teacher institute day. Me and a bunch of friends were leaving early in the morning to go white water rafting in Wisconsin. My car was already packed with gear for the trip.

I was having a normal day and then she walked in.

A short blonde girl with a black satin top over a fishnet long sleeve, black bow, tight skirt, and covered in necklaces, bracelets, dark eye makeup and red lipstick. It was a perfect circa 1983-1986 Madonna look. I had seen her before a few times at a church youth group I went to. She was sometimes there with another girl that was a regular. She always had a Madonna vibe and every time I saw her my heart beat faster.

A woman I assumed was her mother was a few steps behind her. “Madonna” walked up to me and said, “Hey Crockett, do you have that leather jacket in the window in a medium?” I was wearing a white suit with a black tee. Very Miami Vice.

“Uh yeah. Yeah I do. Do you wanna try it on?” I stammered. “The sleeves zip off too so you can wear it year round.”

“Cool!” She exclaimed, “Yes!” I walked her to the front corner of the store and 2 guys who I also knew from that youth group came in. They were your typical Naperville preppy jocks like something out of a bad 80’s movie. She visibly tensed up as one of them walked up really close to her.

He called her by name, Heather, and started saying some really horrible sexist stuff to her. She shrunk. He then put one arm against the wall pinning her in and started to touch her with the other. I was not a brave teen but I said, “You and your friend have to go.” He looked at me and I saw anger flash in his eyes.

“Or what, Pat?” He said as he stood over me by a few inches.

“Leave. Her. Alone.” I said through grit teeth.

He took another step toward me closing the already intimidating gap and my assistant manager, a woman in her mid 20’s, came over and stood between us. Her voice was raised and carried authority. “You’re out of here! You and your buddy leave or I get security.” There was a pause. Her voice raised even more. “Now!” With that they left. Heather was near tears and her mom just stood there and looked upset and angry. Then her mom exploded.

“Dress like a whore and get treated like a whore, Heather!”

“Mom!” Heather pleaded as the tears welled up. Her mom continued.

“Why does a dyke even dress like a slut? What is wrong with you?” I was lost but my assistant manager piped in.

“Ma’am, you need to stop.”

The mom lit into my boss, “I am not going to be lectured by some $4 an hour tramp.”

There was a brief exchange of words between my boss and Heather’s mom that ended with the mom looking at Heather. “You’re not getting that jacket for your birthday. You’re 18 now. When you get home you can grab a bag and go. You’re out! I can’t have your sin and jezebel spirit in my house! Happy birthday!” and with that, the mom stormed out and Heather was yet another homeless queer teen. Heather fell into my boss’ arms sobbing.

My boss and I took Heather to the break room. My boss called her fiancé to see if Heather could spend the night. He was not comfortable with it. I offered to take her to my house. I had the next few days off anyway so I had a few days to help her figure it out.

The brave young woman with attitude was broken and clutched her knees to her chest in the chair. She looked scared about this plan. I explained that I had the entire upstairs of my grandparent’s house. They used to use it for boarders until they got stuck with me. I had a bedroom and living room and she could take the bed and I would crash in the living room. I asked her if she wanted to stay at my place. She nodded and quietly said okay.

I went to the store phone and called one of my friends I was supposed to go rafting with.

“Hey.” I said. “I’m gonna have to join you all a day late. There’s this girl I met while at work and her and I are about to leave so we can….” He interrupted me and made some jokes about me getting some. That hurt on a level I could not explain. Heather was not a piece of ass. She was a scared girl in pain. I just ended the call and said I would catch up when I could.

We left the mall, got in my Monte Carlo, and I took her home.

On the way home she saw my cigarettes on the dashboard and asked if she could have one. Her knees were embedded into her chest as she smoked and she told me that she was bisexual. Her step dad caught her making out with a girl at their house last month. He told the girl to leave and then beat Heather. Her mom slapped her a few times later that night. It wasn’t the first time.

I told her I used to get hit too. That’s why I lived with my grandparents. I told her if she wanted to, her last beating could be her last one ever. She told me she didn’t have magic grandparents like I do. I asked her about her dad. She told me she hadn’t seen him since she was little. Last she heard he lived in Madison, Wisconsin.

Then we pulled up to my house and her mood would improve.

I took Heather up the stairs to my room and her face lit up as she saw what one of my friends called “The Shrine”. My bedroom walls were covered with posters and clippings from magazines. Most of them were of Madonna. This was not the confidant girl. This was not the girl curled up in the fetal position. She was just her. And she thought my shrine and my room, which was a part of me, was wonderful.

She started going through my room and looked at my records, my cassettes, my books and comics. She kept commenting and saying “interesting” and “I would have not expected “Crockett” to be a deep well.”

Then she opened up my closet. She asked what all the equipment was. I told her it was my darkroom.

“You can develop your own pictures with all of that?”

“Yeah, but my enlarger is basic so I can only go to 5×7.”

“Can you take my picture and show me how this works?”

I grabbed my Pentax K1000 and we went into my living room and I took a few pics of her while she struck a pose. I then got my darkroom bag and chemicals. After developing the negatives I hung them in my makeshift darkroom. She asked what happens now. I told her we wait for the negatives to dry for a few hours and we make some prints.

She told me she couldn’t sleep in this outfit and asked if I had a tee shirt and sweats. I gave her my Madonna Virgin Tour Tee from ’84 and a pair of sweats and boxers. She asked if she could take a shower. I said yes.

While she was in the shower I went downstairs and grabbed some extra blankets and a pillow and set them up in my living room so she could have the bed.

She got out of the shower. The makeup was gone and the hair was wet and she looked smaller. She told me she really liked the shirt. I told her she could keep it. I was a freshman when that concert happened and it didn’t fit anymore. My heart was beating hard again as she stood there in white boxers and a concert tee.

She asked me about the concert and I told her about and then we sat on my bedroom floor and played cribbage as Madonna records played in the background.

We talked about all sorts of things, but the part that stuck out was her telling me Madonna was her first girl crush and it was confusing for her to feel that way. To like both boys and girls. And she learned her closet had to be deeper because guys just hypersexualize bi girls and lesbian girls can be mean to bi girls and make them feel like they have to pick a side.

But Madonna helped her feel better about her bi-ness because she spoke openly about liking men but never denying she had been with women.

Then we got to last month. That was her first time ever kissing another girl and she really liked the other girl who was from the Naperville youth group. When they got caught by her step dad kissing the other girl went into defensive mode and outed Heather saying that Heather made a play for her. And that was how those boys at the mall made her a target. She just needed a good dick to convert her.

I sat there hearing her heart and everything my church told me about queer people just felt so wrong. There was nothing wrong with Heather. She was nice and cool and didn’t make fun of my comics and music that I hid from everyone.

I asked her if she was ready to see how prints are made. We went to my make shift darkroom.

After showing her the negatives in my loupe on the light table we picked a shot she liked and we went to work on making 2 prints. One for her and one for me. While I was focusing on moving the second print from tray to tray I could feel her hand caressing my arm. My breath got short and I had to steady my hands. As I hung the second print with a clothespin she gently turned me around. In the dim red light of the darkroom she looked breathtaking and we started kissing. I started to move my hand up her shirt and she pulled back and left the closet.

I followed her out and she looked scared when I walked out after her so I stopped and held my hands out to show nothing was happening. “Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry!”

“No. No. Pat. I’m a virgin! I want to, but I don’t think I’m ready.”

I said, “Me too! And I’m scared out of my mind right now!”

“You are?” She asked.

“A virgin? Or scared?”

“Both!” She said.

“Yes!”

“So it’s okay that we don’t?” She asked.

“I think part of what Madonna says about sex is that you get to decide who you do it with and when. So yeah.”

“Okay! This is okay. I mean. That was hot! Goddesses that was hot! Whoah. Look. I think it’s bedtime.”

I said goodnight and started to walk to the other room and she said my name. “Pat?”

“Could you stay here with me tonight? Just hold me. Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.”

We went to bed and she curled up into my shoulder and side and as we fell asleep she asked, “What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” All I knew is this felt good, better than the making out. I felt safe.

In the morning I made some coffee and brought some cereal upstairs. I told her I had an idea. “Let’s call your dad!” She told me she hasn’t seen him since she was 9 and that was when the abuse started, just like me. She wouldn’t even know what to say. I told her I would do that talking. I knew some people in Sun Prairie which is right next to Madison. Grabbing my phone I called one of them and asked her to get a phone book and see if his name was in it. It was!

Heather sat at the edge of my bed as I called him. He answered. I asked him if he was his name. He said yes and asked what this was about.

“I’m a friend of Heather’s.”

“Heather?” He asked. “Who is….wait. My Heather? You know my daughter?”

“Yeah. She’s with me right now and she kind of needs help. Your ex wife kicked her out and she didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Can I talk to her? Does she want to talk to me?”

I handed her the phone and left the room.

A few minutes later she came into my living room and said, “My dad wants to talk to you. Can you give me a ride to Wisconsin?”

I told her I was supposed to be in Wisconsin anyway. She looked at me quizzically. I got on the phone and I could tell he had been crying. He gave me directions and I wrote them down and told him we’d be leaving in a few minutes.

I asked her if she wanted to go to her mom’s and grab some things. She said no. She had a lot to tell me. But she needed a few minutes to get back in her clothes and do her hair and makeup.

We got into my Monte Carlo and she told me that she was going to live with him. She did not tell him about the hitting yet but she told him about the mall and the girl. It turns out her dad is gay and he doesn’t care she’s bi. He just wants her to meet his boyfriend that lives with him and she has a home there. He missed her every day but his ex wife always threatened to destroy him and expose him as a pervert and he had always been afraid of her and was so sorry he did not try harder.

Before hitting the tollway I pulled into the mall. She asked what we were doing. I told her I would be back in a few minutes.

I came back to the car a few minutes later with the leather jacket from Silverman’s. Her eyes were wide and I said, “Happy Birthday!” She zipped off the sleeves and struck a few poses. I also asked her to look in the back seat. I had a small case with all my Madonna cassettes and my Walkman. She squealed with delight as she hugged me.

About 90 minutes later we pulled up to a small yellow house on the West side of Madison. As I pulled my Monte into the driveway two men came out. It was easy to tell which was her dad. She looked just like him. They stared at each other for moments and there were tears in both their eyes. They embraced each other and stayed there for awhile. I walked up to her dad’s boyfriend. He put a hand on my shoulder and we watched them.

Then her dad looked at me and asked if I was Pat. I said yes. He held me tight and kept saying thank you.

We came inside and they had a spread prepared of fruits and cheeses and a birthday cake. After the feast he showed her her bedroom. He assured her they would make it hers. But first she needed clothes and toiletries. Her dad asked me if I wanted to go with them to the mall. I said yes.

She got to pick out outfits and instead of calling her a whore, they helped her add on to the ensemble and helped her pick out fun things. She was encouraged.

After grabbing some Orange Julius we went to a poster shop where she got a Nagel and a Madonna poster.

As we spent time with her dad and his boyfriend I could not see these men as horrible. They were kind and loved each other and you knew she was going to be safe. When we got back to the house he took me to the side and asked if it would be okay if I went on my way so they could talk. I said yeah but also asked if I could check in on her in a few days. He laughed and gave me a hug and said of course.

Heather and I walked to my car and we kissed one more time and I asked her if she was going to be okay. She said yes. I told her I would see her in a few days.

I got in the Monte and saw her watch me through my rear view as I drove off. 90 minutes later I would be at the campground. It was raining.

When my friends got to the site it was perfect weather for rafting. They decided that things are not as fun if Pat Green is not there so they waited. By the time I got there the weather had turned and the rest of the weekend was a very damp camping experience with no rafting. Just wet everything.

This was my fault and they wanted to know who’s that girl? I love my friends and to this day am in touch with many of them all these decades later. Back then? They liked to say “that’s gay” or speak in a lisp mockingly of gay people and other things. So did I. But not anymore.

In those days we did not talk about the deep stuff. And I was afraid how they would react to the bi part. Not because I was embarrassed of her, but because I didn’t want any more shit. Just make the ruined weekend about me and let’s move on.

They created a new phrase that weekend. The Pat Green Rule. Fun waits for no one, not even Pat Green. That was the Pat Green rule.

At my 20 year reunion I found out some of them used that phrase on their kids as way of saying get your butt in gear or we go to the zoo without you. Pat Green Rule!

As we were all packing up someone asked if we could have some of the people in my car for the trip home.

I said I was going to Madison and would miss a day of school.

One of my friends asked why.

I smiled as I opened the door of my Monte Carlo, put on my Ray-Bans, and said, “I need a day out of life. A holiday. Pat Green rule!”

If you liked this article, you’ll love a short column written by Chami in the Then and Now Section about gay jokes. It unpacks the harm they can do to others. You can also read an article about Tipper GOre’s other mortal enemy, Cyndi Lauper!

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