The title of a Boy George autobiography in 1995. I didn’t really know what to expect out of this book. When I was in my teens, I thought Boy George was incredibly brave. He battered at the gender divide long before I was savvy enough to make sense of my own feelings.
The book has left me with mixed feelings. It is an incredibly densly packed book and comes across like a linear brain-dump. There’s some honesty in there but I never lost the feeling that something was being held from me. Selfish, flamboyant, moody and at the same time, generous and loving. Complex. I do feel incredibly normal and boring now, but I certainly wouldn’t swap my life with what he had/has. What really impressed me was that in spite of becoming a worldwide celebrity and losing himself in drugs (and recovering?), he never seemed to want to leave his family behind. Sure they would have felt neglected at times, but they stuck by him in tough times and he never severed the link to them completely. In spite of the madness, the family ties were strong, and in these selfish times, that has to be a special thing.