Mandy Nolan’s Soapbox: Praise the Madonna!

I love Madonna. Not her music so much. It’s not my jam. She’s such an incredible artist, that doesn’t matter. Because she is more than her music – she is iconic. I love her. I love how brave she is. I love how relentlessly authentic she is. I love how she doesn’t give a F. I love how she doesn’t listen to the dominant narrative. I love how she becomes the narrative. I love her sense of play. Her lack of shame. Her ability to stand in who she is and radiate positivity. It’s powerful. And it’s unique.

I love how she is 65 and she is still the centrepiece of conversations about ‘appropriate’ behaviour for women. I love that she is still making people uncomfortable. That she is asking us to have a conversation about what it means to be an older woman. She is one of the world’s most successful women, in one of the world’s toughest industries. And still, she won’t go home.

Her latest tour: Celebration, is a tribute to her extraordinary 40-year career. She dances on stage with an avatar of her younger self. She tells her younger self she is proud of her. She is unashamedly sexual. She embodies the generations where she made music and somehow became an intrinsic part of the soundtrack of most of our lives. She has been a powerful advocate for the LGBTQ+ community. And I watch her, a woman ten years my senior still be dangerous. Still be discussed and critiqued. While some are saying her show is triumphant, there are others who want her to go home and pick up her knitting. 

Although if Madonna did knit, it would be cock rings, not cardigans. Over the weekend I’ve watched the conversation about her age, and this push back from commentators that she is too much. Or that she hasn’t evolved. And I wonder if they realise it doesn’t matter what they say. She is on their lips. Her choices are the subject of the conversation. She is not  invisible. Because that’s what happens to older women. They disappear.

Not her. Not even flesh-eating bacteria can keep her down. She’s made a recovery and she’s back, in a knee brace and a corset. Why aren’t we celebrating, as her tour suggests? Why are we criticising? It’s a performance. A show. It’s art. But somehow, detractors have made it very personal. The truth is, the world wasn’t ready for her overt sexuality when she was young. It certainly isn’t ready for her senior sexuality. It isn’t ready for that sort of confidence. OMG imagine a world where older women claim visibility. Where they refused to go quietly.

The world asks older women to cover up. It tells us we are no longer on show. That we better not draw attention to ourselves. Just blend in girls. Fade. Do it quietly and do it with grace. Step back. No one wants to see your veiny legs. Or your wrinkled face. Or your desire. 

We are told to put away short skirts and cut our long hair short. We button up our blouses. We send our heels to Vinnies. We head to the land of sensible shoes. Which is fine if that’s your choice. But maybe it’s not even about that. Maybe it’s about the narrative that exists around our disappearance that Madonna is disrupting the most. Maybe that’s why for some it’s so uncomfortable. Because they don’t want to see it. It’s confronting. It’s not safe. It’s complex and unexpected and unforgettable. You can’t unsee her. 

I love that Madonna has continued to redefine what it is to be a goddess. And not one that is consumed through the male gaze. No. Madonna directs. Always more of a Kali than an Aphrodite. And in her show, the one that has so much chatter she delivers everything.

Mother. Goddess of time, change, creation, power, destruction and death. She is a truly feminist goddess. She is unapologetic because there is nothing to apologise for. 

She is bloody amazing. For difficult, loud, angry, unusual, sensual, quiet and unseen women everywhere she continues to be a trailblazer. I have nothing but immense respect and gratitude. 

I see what she does, and I get it. Fuck the haters. Praise the Madonna!