Here are a few snippets:
- That’s because I grew up in a conservative evangelical home in the Midwest in the 1980s and ’90s, with pop culture kept carefully at arm’s length. We were told — at my charismatic church where the faithful “spoke in tongues” and believed in miracles, and at my strict Christian school where girls wore skirts below the knees every day — that rock ‘n’ roll was “the devil’s music.”
- But this week brought back some of the old feelings of isolation that I first felt in the workplace and around peers from outside my evangelical cocoon — a sense of being out of place and maybe not quite right.
Instead of David Bowie and Prince, I grew up on contemporary Christian artists like Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant — and some others you’ve probably never heard of. Even those artists who occasionally scored crossover hits that made it to the pop charts were viewed by some in my parents’ circles as too “worldly” because their lyrics didn’t always mention Jesus. There were also concerns about Grant’s choice of red leather pants when she performed on stage.
- So while my friends were quoting Prince lyrics and reminiscing about going to Prince concerts, and strangers were gathering to mourn in Minneapolis, I just felt … like I was peering in the window of someone else’s wake. My friends were all in the same funeral procession marching by, and I was standing by watching.
After Prince’s death, and Bowie’s a few months ago, and Michael Jackson’s several years back, I recognized, cognitively, their importance. I felt sympathy for my friends who felt their loss. But mostly, I’ve felt isolated from all of you who share these ties, and regret for what I missed. These cultural figures don’t just speak to us as individuals; they join us together as a community. They create touchstones — without which, it’s easy to feel like an outsider.
Full Sarah McCammon article – I’m Not Sad About Prince, But Let Me Explain