Like pretty much the rest of the music-loving world when David Bowie’s death was announced on Monday, I was shocked. I remembered that Bowie had just released a new album, and immediately listened to it and was utterly being mesmerised by what The Guardian called a “spellbinding break with his past.” I was just about to hit repeat, for a third time, when I came across this tweet.
I just Googled ‘David Bowie baby groupies’ and I’m taking a step back from my mourning. We lambast R Kelly for the same shit.
— Charl Blignaut (@sa_poptart) January 11, 2016
To save you the trouble of Googling, the short story is that in the early 70s, Bowie had sex with Lori Maddox, a 15-year old groupie who was so well known in that scene, she partly inspired the character of Kate Hudson’s Penny Lane in “Almost Famous.”
Actually, scratch that. Bowie didn’t “have sex” with Maddox. Bowie raped Maddox.
No matter which way you flip it or interrogate it, at the end of the day, Bowie had sex with a child. That without doubt or question is rape.
Following this revelation, which has never broached mainstream media (I’ll get to that one later), it felt like Bowie had died all over again. When someone, who on top of being a musical genius, also confronted racism in the music industry, or was an icon for the queer community and anyone else who didn’t conform, is suddenly recast as a rapist it leaves his legion fans in a difficult position.
What is his legacy? Can we enjoy his music? In being fans of Bowie are we tacitly or overtly supporting rape culture?
But as is too often the case when it comes to stories about sex crimes, particularly sex crimes and celebrities, it’s not cut-and-dry. In interviews the now adult Maddox has given she, as recently as November of last year, describes her relationship with Bowie as “beautiful.”
In the numerous conversations I’ve had on Facebook about this news, her insistence in defending what happened between her and Bowie is where things start going pear-shaped. While swearing that they aren’t defending or supporting rape culture, countless Bowie fans mounted half-hearted defenses of him. These defenses generally go, “if she’s ok with it, it must be fine then and who are we to judge.”
Well, here’s the answer to that. We have to “judge” and voice our opinions on why this was so terrible because it’s us, society as a collective, who created and continue to perpetuate rape culture. In defending Bowie’s rape of Maddox, regardless how half-heartedly, we are defending the very conditions that, in South Africa, lead to only one in 13 rapes being reported. In defending Bowie’s rape of Maddox we are defending the very conditions that lead to, in Gauteng for example, only 4% of reported rapes ending with a conviction even though globally only some 2% of rape accusations are false. In defending Bowie’s rape of Maddox we are defending the very conditions that lead to 27 people being sexually assaulted in the Western Cape today, and every other day of the year.
When it comes to the argument, that since Maddox is ok with it we should be as well, that’s also nonsense. While she certainly, even at that age, had every right to make whatever decisions she wanted to make regarding her sexuality, it doesn’t change the fact that Bowie, the adult in this rape, committed a crime.
Having said all that, in the discussions I’ve been party to about this, I’m yet to come across anyone whom I thought was defending Bowie from a malicious place. Essentially, though they undoubtedly have, I don’t feel that anyone purposefully has supported rape culture.
As a friend, Gugulethu Mhlungu, put it, “Disappointed by so many Bowie fans who swear they aren’t caping for statutory rape who then go on to do exactly that, because love/hero/legend. It’s not so much that they are doing it that’s disappointing, it’s that they swear they are not…”
To go back to the earlier questions about what this rape means to us, fans of Bowie, and his legacy, I don’t necessarily think this means we should entirely reject him or his work. Some people may disagree on that. Personally, however, I’ve never been able to diligently and consistently apply any standard on when I disassociate from a musician, or any other artist, because of something they’ve done in the personal lives. I can’t watch Woody Allen movies anymore, but R Kelly classics still feature heavily in the music I listen to.
As another friend, T.J Tallie, put it, “Icons can be complex. And should be roundly criticized. And you can still like their music. You cannot and should not silence, dismiss, or actively derail real fuckery so you feel better.”
But that consideration Tallie puts forward in recognising Bowie as a complex figure, that consideration even I, in writing this, give him also strikes me as problematic.
As that tweet which first brought this story to my attention pointed out, “we lambast R Kelly for the same shit.”
When I consider that, I can’t help but wonder where my consideration and recognition of R Kelly as a “complex figure” is. Why have I not written something talking about Chris Brown as a “complex figure?” Why do I cheer – without considering him as a “complex figure” – at the news of Bill Cosby finally being brought to trial?
In this article, a writer who wanted to write about Bowie’s rape was told by an editor to “to wait awhile and let the mourners mourn.” I don’t remember this kind of consideration for Michael Jackson when he died. In the days immediately following his death, the mainstream media did not shy away from referencing and unpacking what the various child molestation accusations he faced meant for his legacy. I can’t imagine that by now mainstream media haven’t come across the Bowie/Maddox case. But in no way is this being dealt with, or even mentioned.
Why?
For me, the answer simply is that it’s a racist double-standard borne out of racist society. And as a part of that society, even I – black as I am, or as “woke” as I may consider myself to be – can find myself giving white people, like Bowie, more consideration than I give black people, like Jackson or Brown. If you’ve come across this story and decided not to say anything about it, you’re also guilty of this. You’ve also been racist.
To quote yet another friend, Michelle Solomon: “He is treated differently as a white man who did an evil thing, while black men constantly have to prove they’re not evil. When black men do do these evil things, they are generally treated without any of the kind of mercy and excuses we see for white men like Bowie. Why would we make excuses for them when we expect violence from black men? It’s a revolting and racist discourse.”
So what does all of this mean though?
I can tell you, without reservation, that Bowie raped Maddox. I can tell you, without reservation, that trying to excuse Bowie’s rape of Maddox supports rape culture. I can also tell you, again without reservation, that the media, and your own, silence on Bowie’s rape of Maddox is racist.
But what I can’t tell you is what to do with information. Ultimately, all of us, Bowie’s fans, must make our own decision about how we’re going to view his legacy in light of this rape.
Right now, I don’t even know how I feel about him.
All I know is that as much as I was mesmerised by his new album, I haven’t been able to listen to it or anything else by him since I first came across that tweet. Whether that will change, I don’t know. But what I do know is that I can’t ignore the fact that in as much Bowie was a rock legend, Bowie was also a rapist.
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