Tuesday, December 02, 2014

Interview Magazine by Gus Van Sant


Photography Marcus Piggott, Mert Alas
2010
GUS VAN SANT: Hey, Madonna.

MADONNA: Gus, is that you?

VAN SANT: Yes. I'm at my house in L.A., just reading the paper.

MADONNA: Are you living in L.A. now?
VAN SANT: I still live in Portland [Oregon], but I have a place in L.A., and I'm starting to work on this film down here.
MADONNA: You're always working on a film.
VAN SANT: Usually.
MADONNA: But that's what you do.
VAN SANT: It's my habit. [laughs] I heard you're going to Africa.
MADONNA: Yeah. I go to Malawi twice a year. It's where two of my children were adopted from, and I have a lot of projects there that I go and check up on and children who I look after. It's sort of a commitment that I've made to this country and the hundreds of thousands of children there who have been orphaned by AIDS. I made a documentary about it [I Am Because We Are, 2008], and it's just become part of my life. I'm going to meet with Jeffrey Sachs [the economist]. I'm sure you've heard of him. He's starting a global education initiative, and I'm going to be his Girl Friday, so to speak. We're going to hold a press conference to talk about the school for girls that I'm building in Malawi. It's kind of our way of making sure that every kid has a chance to have an education-more specifically girls, but boys as well. Girls, though, in a lot of developing countries don't have the opportunity to go to school, nor are they encouraged to go to school, so what we're doing is the beginning of a dream. But I'm going to Malawi for lots of reasons.
VAN SANT: You've done a lot of work with Jeffrey Sachs already, haven't you?
MADONNA: Yeah. We've been supporting each other for years now. I've worked on some Millennium Villages with him. We have two Millennium Village sites in Malawi, and they're both doing very well. He's an incredible human being.
VAN SANT: I've never met him, but I've heard he's very charismatic.
MADONNA: He's extremely charismatic. Very well-spoken and charming. He's one of the few people I know who talks the talk and also walks the walk. He thinks very big.
VAN SANT: What's the economic theory behind the Millennium Villages?
MADONNA: Well, his work is primarily focused on ending poverty, but you know, there are lots of ways to skin the cat. Millennium Villages are an experiment that he has tried all over the world. It costs a certain amount of money, and it takes a certain number of years for them to work, but he's got it down almost to a science, where for $1.5 million over a five-year period, you can make a series of interconnected villages self-sustainable through education and prepping and diversifying their crops and giving them agricultural tools and medicine and knowledge. Jeffrey has been really supportive of all the work I've done in Malawi. So, yeah, we'll be drinking a gin and tonic and swatting away the mosquitoes down there. By the way, Milk [2008] was such a brilliant film. I cried and cried. I loved it.  

VAN SANT: Oh, great. Thanks.
MADONNA: Did you like working with my ex-husband? [laughs]
VAN SANT: I did. Sean [Penn] was amazing.
MADONNA: He is amazing.
VAN SANT: I haven't really caught up with Sean since he's been going to Haiti. I mean, it's incredible, what he's been doing.
MADONNA: Yup. He's got a fire under his ass, that's for sure. A bee in his bonnet.
VAN SANT: When I called him to see whether he would play the role in Milk, he took half a second to say yes. I guess he knew the elements were there.
MADONNA: I could see why he would be attracted to the role and be able to say yes in two seconds. Watching Milk was such a trip down emomry lane for me.
VAN SANT: Yeah? Did you go to the Castro a lot?
MADONNA: I did when I was younger. But you know, what the movie triggered for me was all my early days in New York and the scene that I came up in-you know, with Andy Warhol and Keith Haring and Jean-Michel Basquiat and Kenny Scharf. It was just so alive with art and politics and this wonderful spirit. So many of those people are dead now. I think that's one of the reasons I cried. In fact, the character that Richard E. Grant plays in the film I directed, Filth and Wisdom [2008], is this blind professor who was based on my ballet teacher, Christopher Flynn. Growing up in Michigan, I didn't really know what a gay man was. He was the first man-the first human being-who made me feel good about myself and special. He was the first person who told me that I was beautiful or that I had something to offer the world, and he encouraged me to believe in my dreams, to go to New York. He was such an important person in my life. He died of AIDS, but he went blind toward the end of his life. He was such a lover of art, classical music, literature, opera. You know, I grew up in the Midwest, and it was really because of him that I was exposed to so many of those things. He brought me to my first gay club-it was this club in Detroit. I always felt like I was a freak when I was growing up and that there was something wrong with me because I couldn't fit in anywhere. But when he took me to that club, he brought me to a place where I finally felt at home. So that character in Filth and Wisdom was dedicated to him and inspired by him. I don't know why I'm bringing all this up, but I guess it's just coming from that world in Michigan and the trajectory of my life: after going to New York and being a dancer when the whole AIDS epidemic started and nobody knew what it was. And then suddenly, all these beautiful men around me, people who I loved so dearly, were dying-just one after the next. It was just such a crazy time. And watching the world freak out-the gay community was so ostracized. But it was also when I was beginning my career. . . . I don't know. Your movie really struck a chord for me and made me remember all that. It's a time I don't think many people have captured on film. It's a time that people don't talk about much. And even though there was so much death, for me, New York was so alive.
VAN SANT: It's amazing that you had a person like that in your life who was such an influence.
MADONNA: Thank god! Otherwise, I don't know if I would've gotten out of Michigan. I think it was Christopher and my Russian history teacher, Marilyn Fellows. The two of them, I think they were a conspiracy that god sent to me. The conspiracy of angels that gave me the confidence and helped me turn my lemons into lemonade, if you know what I'm saying. Because when you grow up in a really conservative place and you don't fit in, it's kind of hard. . . . You can go one way or the other.
VAN SANT: I had a chance to watch Filth and Wisdom. It's a really intimate and contained piece of work. I was really surprised by it. I didn't know what to expect.
MADONNA: Yeah, I'm sure. I guess it is intimate. I never thought of it like that. It's kind of a small story. But really, if you break it down, it's about the struggle of being an artist. I feel like the three main characters in the film are basically me.
VAN SANT: Are they?
MADONNA: Or aspects of me, yeah. I was fortunate enough to meet Eugene [Hütz], the Ukrainian who plays the lead. When I started writing Filth and Wisdom, I didn't know him, and the character he eventually played was going to be a struggling actor who was cross-dressing to make ends meet. But then when I met Eugene after I saw him in another film, I found out he was in a band, Gogol Bordello. Then I started stalking him. [laughs] I was like, "Oh, god, he's amazing. I'm going to make the character a struggling musician instead." I thought it would be more interesting.
VAN SANT: What film did you see him in?
MADONNA: I saw him in a film that Liev Schreiber directed called Everything Is Illuminated [2005, based on the novel by Jonathan Safran Foer]. Eugene was my favorite thing in the movie, and I became kind of obsessed with him. I wrote a part for him in my script for my new movie, in the part of a security guard who is a Russian immigrant living in Brooklyn and working in Manhattan. Eugene inspired the part-in fact, the character's name is Evgeni.
VAN SANT: Is that script W.E.?
MADONNA: Yeah, the movie everyone thinks I'm making that's supposed to be a musical about the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. I don't know why that got in the newspapers. The Duke and Duchess of Windsor are in the movie, but it's not going to be about them. It's really about this other woman's journey, and the duchess is kind of her spiritual guide.
VAN SANT: So it's set during which period?
MADONNA: It's set mostly in pre-World War II England-like, 1936 to 1937-and then in New York in 1998. It goes back and forth in time. I use the Sotheby's auction in 1998 of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor's estate as a device to flash backward from.
VAN SANT: Oh, fantastic.
MADONNA: Fantastic and complicated. [laughs] I didn't realize it when we were writing the script, but once I started casting and planning and working with my production designer, I went, "Oh, fuck. I wrote a script about a bunch of rich people. That's going to be great for the budget." The duchess has, like, 80 costume changes. She was dressed by Balenciaga and Christian Dior and Vionnet and Schiaparelli. Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels made most of her jewelry. A lot of the actual stuff is in museum archives. They're not going to give it to me. But a lot of these couture houses have offered to make stuff for me. Do you know Arianne Phillips?
VAN SANT: I've never worked with her, but I know her work.
MADONNA: She's doing my costumes. I mean, just the costumes alone are pretty daunting because the duke and the duchess were both real clotheshorses. And then there's the auction itself-they auctioned off more than 40,000 items, a lot of which was clothes and jewelry and shoes and handbags and whatnot. So there's a lot of fashion in my movie, although it's not really about that.
VAN SANT: So you'll have to make some things and cobble the rest together.
MADONNA: Yeah. It'll be a combination of real vintage pieces, others we'll get remade based on patterns that have been dragged out of the archives, and then new stuff we'll make. Next time, I'm writing a movie about one person in one place who has no wardrobe. [laughs]
VAN SANT: When did you start writing W.E.?
MADONNA: I've been writing it for the last two and a half years, to tell you the truth. It's been kind of an obsession of mine. I started writing it when I finished filming Filth and Wisdom. It was actually an idea I had before that, but I made Filth and Wisdom because I realized that I didn't really have a right to make a bigger film until I made a smaller film-and learned how to make a film.
VAN SANT: And this new one is going to be bigger, obviously.
MADONNA: Well, it's a bigger story. There are more characters, and three of them basically changed the course of English history. King Edward VIII abdicated the throne to be with an American woman, Wallis Simpson, and that's part of my story, so I've had to do an enormous amount of research and interview people. So I have an enormous responsibility to that, and then I have a responsibility to the actual auction, which really happened. Then there's the new story, the point of view, which is this girl who has this obsession and is going to the auctions and stuff. So it's a much more layered, complicated piece than Filth and Wisdom.
VAN SANT: One of the interesting things that I've heard about King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson was their social circle. Will you have some of that in the film?
MADONNA: Yes, of course. They're a very controversial couple. People have lots of different notions about them. I mean, the guy, Edward, gave up the most powerful position in the world for this woman. For the British, he was the most beloved prince and king in a very long time-he was called the People's Prince. He was very popular. So the fact that he abdicated his throne left many people devastated, and of course they had to demonize Wallis. They said it was all her fault and blamed her for singlehandedly bringing down the British Empire, because, of course, the monarchy was never the same again, which actually had a lot to do with the fact that everything changed completely after World War II. But people have accused Wallis of all kinds of things. They've said that she put a spell on Edward. They've said that she was a hermaphrodite and that he was gay. They've said that they were Nazi sympathizers. It's just the usual lynch-mob mentality that descends upon somebody who has something that lots of other people don't have. They have to diminish you by saying there's something wrong with you, or accuse you of something that they really don't have the knowledge or the right to.
VAN SANT: So they made the decision to be a couple.
MADONNA: Yeah, but love isn't enough, really. So it's been an interesting journey, trying to find out about them. In England especially, I've found that if you bring up King Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson at a dinner party or a social gathering, it's like throwing a Molotov cocktail into the room. Everyone erupts into an argument about who they were. I mean, they were very controversial-and continue to be. So of course I'm very attracted to that.
VAN SANT: That's a fantastic subject.
MADONNA: Their lives were absolutely crazy. It's as much about the search for love and the meaning of happiness as it is about the cult of celebrity, really. It's all kind of mixed up in one big stew.
VAN SANT: You wrote the script with Alek Keshishian?
MADONNA: Yeah. I started writing it on my own, and then I realized that I needed help. It's just too big a subject. I quite like the idea of collaborating in  general. Not only is it lonely to do things on your own creatively, it's also kind of arrogant. I guess some people are brilliant enough to be brilliant on their own and never doubt anything and come up with fabulous things. But I think it's good to get into arguments with people and have them say, "That sucks" or "You're crazy" or "That's cheesy" or "What do you think of this?" If anything, it helps you understand what you believe in and what you're passionate about and what is shit. I think it's important to have a sounding board. I've known Alek for years, and we have a weird kind of brother-sister relationship. One minute we're hugging each other and crying on each other's shoulders, and the next minute we're slamming the door in each other's face and not speaking to each other for a month. [laughs]
VAN SANT: When you're writing together, is it a situation where you're actually in the same room?
MADONNA: Oh, yeah. I mean, we'll be in the same room, but we also do chunks of things on our own and e-mail them to each other, or we do stuff over the phone, or sit together and take the computer off each other's laps, or we're disgusted with how slow the other person is typing. . . .  So it works in a lot of different ways.
VAN SANT: When you're actually writing, do you have any kind of regimen where you write during the day or at night?
MADONNA: I tend to write during the day so I can see my children at night. But if my kids aren't with me and I have a chunk of time when I'm a single woman living in my house for a miraculous week, I will get to write at different hours. I mean, we've burned the candle. We've stayed up all night. We've done it every which way. But generally we schedule chunks of time to be together and work on it.
VAN SANT: You're just starting to fill out the cast?
MADONNA: Yeah, I'm casting. When I get back from Africa, I will officially begin preproduction.
VAN SANT: To shoot this summer?
MADONNA: Yeah. Yikes.
VAN SANT: I know. It's hard, isn't it?
MADONNA: Very hard. I don't know what it's like for you, but for me, making a movie, before you start filming and you're in the trenches, it just seems like this process of pushing-of working through all of these people saying no. It seems like the whole world is against you. I've never had that experience before, because making records and putting my shows together-except at the very beginning of my career-I've never really experienced much resistance. I just find the people I want to work with and put it all together, and it's a lot of hard work and all kinds of catastrophes happen, but I don't really get too much resistance. But when you make a movie, it seems like there's nothing but resistance. It's kind of a miracle that any movie ever gets made. Every other day, it's like, "What am I doing? This is insane. I could be off gardening right now. This is too stressful. Who do I think I am? Why am I putting myself through all of this punishment?" That's what it feels like-for me, anyway.
VAN SANT: I've told people who have just started to make a film that the one thing you might experience is this feeling that everybody is conspiring against you, because you're not necessarily able to tell what's real and what's not. There are all of these messages that you get through third parties that say, "You can't get that location. You can't shoot at Yankee Stadium."
MADONNA: "That actor is not really available except for these three weeks."
VAN SANT: Yeah. And it's too hard for you personally to take care of it because there are too many things going on at the same time. It's almost like torture.
MADONNA: It's torture for me, because I want to personally go to all the people who are saying no to me and say, "Can't we just work something out? Why can't I shoot at your castle? Why can't you make 30 outfits for me and not charge me? Why do you want to work with Martin Scorsese when you can work with me?" [both laugh] It all seems to be an exercise in acceptance, doesn't it? When do you give in? When do you let go and stop trying to control everything? Filmmaking is such a collaboration. At a certain point, I suppose you do have to let go and trust the people you're working with. I look at movies like Wong Kar-Wai's films, and they all have such a familylike feeling about them. He just keeps working with the same actors and art director and DP, and the stories don't change that much. There seems to be this familiarity there that must be such a nice luxury.
VAN SANT: Wong Kar-Wai is a really great inspiration. He's always referred to as the Jimi Hendrix of filmmaking.
MADONNA: What does that mean?
VAN SANT: It means that he's so loose and familiar with his craft that he can sort of do anything.
MADONNA: I was actually watching In the Mood for Love [2000] again last night because I love the music. And I mean, how overused is slow motion in film? But, for some reason, he gets away with it. Every time the characters pass each other on the stairs, there's that same piece of music. It's so beautiful. He has these two married couples living next door to each other, and you never see the wife of one couple or the husband of the other, but you always hear them talking. And it's not so much of a story, but you're so sucked into it. It's something to be envied. While the stories seem simple, you really end up feeling kind of devastated and moved and melancholic every time you watch one of his movies-well, I do, anyway.
VAN SANT: I do too.
MADONNA: But maybe there's something wrong with me. Maybe I'm just a sucker.
VAN SANT: No, I think they're very strong films. Who are you using as a DP?
MADONNA: Hagen Bogdanski. He did The Lives of Others [2006]. Did you see that film?
VAN SANT: Oh, yeah. It's amazing.
MADONNA: He also did The Young Victoria, so two different looks. But I think he's brilliant.
VAN SANT: Because the DP who I've been using for many films is someone who has a connection to you. I was making a commercial for Levi's several years ago, and the art director said that they had just worked with Harris Savides, and they were sort of pushing him on me. They said, "Madonna doesn't work with anyone else." So I went, "Well, shit. If Madonna won't work with anyone else. . . ."
MADONNA: I worship Harris Savides. He's too expensive for me. I adore him. I've worked with him a lot. He's the best. It's interesting, though, because my film is essentially an English production, and I've been instructed to use people who live there-or at least in Europe. We'll film mostly in England, a bit in France, some in New York. My only indulgence is to bring my costume girl, because I've been working with her for so many years and costumes are such a big part of this movie. I just can't start working with someone new. But Hagen seems brilliant and collaborative-so far, so good. Are you working with Harris on your next film?
VAN SANT: Well, there's a film that I'm mixing right now. It's called Restless. We shot it in November and December, and Harris was the DP. I've worked with him on a bunch of films now. Seymour Stein [the record executive] was somebody I got to know a teeny bit because he helped with the soundtrack for Even Cowgirls Get the Blues [1993]. Was he somebody-
MADONNA: Who was a really important, influential person in my life? Oh, my god. Yeah, of course. He believed in me. Seymour Stein is the person who signed me and gave me my first record deal, which was my only record deal I stayed at Warner Bros. until five minutes ago. He listened to my demo. He was in the hospital, and he had me come in to visit him. He was hooked up to all these weird devices-I don't know what was wrong with him. But he made me bring my boom box and play my music for him. He was laying there in bed in his boxer shorts and a wife-beater. But he was always my champion during the first decade of my career. So he's also a very important character. I mean, I guess we all have champions, but I feel blessed and lucky to have had the ones that I've had. I still run into Seymour Stein from time to time. I see him around. He's still got that naughty twinkle in his eye.
VAN SANT: I remember that he'd start to talk about music or something and he'd start crying.
MADONNA: Oh, I know. He's such a music lover-an art lover. I remember he had these insane paintings-this vast collection of art-and the pieces were all just sort of jumbled on top of one another and leaning against the walls in his labyrinth like apartment. He's a character. It's curious, because it seems like those days are really over in the music business, where guys like that ran things, or where you could go and see a band and get so inspired and discover them and make records with them. It's kind of sad.
VAN SANT: Now the music industry is sort of like a Craigslist venture, right? Where you're making your own records and selling them online.
MADONNA: Yeah. It's weird-that's exactly what's going on. I don't have a record deal right now with anybody. I don't know how I'm going to get my music out the next time I make a record.
VAN SANT: You have to rethink how to do it.
MADONNA: I'm going to have to reinvent the wheel. I haven't really been focused as much as I should be on the music part of my career because this movie has just consumed every inch of me. Between that and my four children, I don't have the time or the energy for anything else. For example, I do appreciate that lots of people worked long and hard putting together things like the DVD of the Sticky & Sweet tour that we just released, and I have seen the finished product, but I have got no idea how people are going to find out about it or how it's going to be sold.
VAN SANT: They'll find it. [laughs]
MADONNA: Hopefully. I think I have a fan club- well, that's what they say.

Saturday, October 05, 2013

Harpers Bazaar Madonna Entrevista, Noviembre 2013

Madonna regresa, pero ella nunca se fue. Después de 30 años gobernando el pop, nos cuenta la verdad sobre atreverse.
Por Madonna

¿VERDAD O ATREVIMIENTO?

Esto es una frase pegadiza que me asocian. Hice un documental con este título y desde entonces se ha enganchado a mi como un matamoscas. Es un juego divertido de jugar si estás dispuesto a arriesgarte como normalmente estoy. Aunque debes jugar con un grupo de gente inteligente o acabarás besándote con todos los de la habitación o dándole una mamada a una botella de Evian.

La gente suele escoger “verdad” cuando es su turno porque se puede mentir sobe uno mismo y nadie tiene porque saberlo, pero cuando te retan tienes que hacerlo. Hacer algo atrevido es una proposición aterradora para muchas personas. Por alguna extraña razón, eso se ha convertido en mi razón de ser.

Si no puedo ser arriesgada en mi trabajo o en mi forma de vivir no veo el por qué de estar en este planeta.
Esto puede sonar extremista, pero cuando crecía en un suburbio en el Midwest todo lo que necesitaba comprender era que el mundo estaba dividido en dos categorías: la gente que seguía el status quo e iba sobre seguro y la gente echaba las convenciones por la ventana y bailaba al ritmo de un tambor diferente. Me arrojé dentro de la segunda categoría y pronto descubrí que ser un rebelde y no conformarse no le hace a uno muy popular. De hecho, hace lo opuesto. Te ven como un personaje sospechoso, un alborotador, alguien peligroso.

Cuando tienes 15 años esto puede ser incómodo. Los adolescentes por una parte quieren encajar y por otra quieren ser rebeldes. Beber cerveza y fumar porros en el aparcamiento no era mi idea de ser rebelde ya que era lo que todo el mundo hacía. Nunca quise hacer lo que todo el mundo hacía. Pensaba que molaba más no afeitarme las piernas ni el sobaco. ¿Para qué nos lo dio Dios? ¿Por qué los chicos no tenían que hacerlo? ¿Por qué estaba aceptado en Europa y no en América? Nadie pudo contestar a mis preguntas de una manera satisfactoria así que fui más allá de los límites. Me negué a llevar maquillaje y me puse pañuelos en la cabeza como una rusa campesina. Hice lo opuesto a lo que todas las demás chicas hacían y me convertí en un repelente de hombres. Desafié a la gente a que les gustara yo y mi inconformidad.

Esto no resultó muy bien. La mayoría de la gente pensó que era extraña. No tenía muchos amigos, podría decir que ninguno, pero al final resultó. Cuando no eres popular y no tienes vida social te da tiempo para pensar en tu futuro, que para mi era ir a Nueva York a convertirme en un artista de verdad y poder expresarme en una ciudad de gente inconformista, disfrutar, menearme y agitarme en un mundo rodeado de gente atrevida.

Nueva York no fue todo lo que pensaba que sería. No me dio la bienvenida con los brazos abiertos. En el primer año me apuntaron con una pistola, me violaron en la azotea de un edificio a la que subí con una navaja en mi espalda y entraron en mi apartamento a robar tres veces. No sé por qué ya que no tenía nada de valor después de que se llevaran mi radio la primera vez.

Los edificios altos y la gran escala de Nueva York me fascinaron. Las espectaculares aceras, el ruido del tráfico y la electricidad de la ajetreada gente por las calles fueron un shock para mis neurotransmisores. Me sentía en otro universo. Me sentía como un guerrero abriéndose paso entre la multitud para sobrevivir con la sangre bombeando en mis venas. Estaba lista para sobrevivir. Me sentía viva.

 También estaba asustada y horrorizada por todo el olor a pis y vómito, especialmente el de la entrada del tercer piso de mi edificio. No estaba preparada para eso ni para toda la cantidad de vagabundos que había por las calles. Intentaba ser una bailarina profesional, pagaba mi alquiler posando desnuda para clases de arte. Miraba a la gente que me miraba a mi desnuda. Retándoles a que me vieran como algo más que una forma que ellos intentaban capturar con sus lápices y carboncillos. Era desafiante. Ocupada en sobrevivir. Era duro y me sentía sola. Me tenía que retar cada día a seguir. A veces me hacía la victima y lloraba en mi habitación de tamaño de caja de zapatos y con una ventana que daba a una pared, mirando pájaros cagar en los ventanales. Me pregunté si esto valía la pena pero después me enderecé y miré una postal de Frida Kahlo pegada en mi pared. Ver su mostacho me consolaba porque era una artista a la que no le importaba lo que pensaran de ella. La admiraba, ella era atrevida. La gente se lo puso difícil. La vida se lo puso difícil. Si ella pudo, entonces yo también podía.

Cuando tienes 25 años es algo más fácil ser atrevido, especialmente si eres una estrella del pop porque se espera un comportamiento excéntrico. En esa época ya me depilaba debajo de mis brazos pero también me ponía tantos crucifijos en el cuello como pudiera llevar y le decía en entrevistas a la gente que lo hacía porque pensaba que Jesús era sexy. La verdad es que él era sexy para mi, pero también lo decía para ser provocativa. Siempre tuve una extraña relación con la religión. Soy una gran creyente en los comportamientos rituales siempre y cuando no hieran a nadie. No soy una gran fan de las normas aunque no podemos vivir en un mundo sin orden. Para mi hay una diferencia entre reglas y orden. Las reglas es lo que la gente sigue sin cuestionar. El orden es cuando las palabras y los hechos unen a las personas y no las separan. Sí, me gusta provocar, está en mi ADN, pero nueve de cada diez hay una razón en ello.

A los 35 ya estaba divorciada y buscando el amor en todos los lugares equivocados. Decidí que necesitaba ser algo más que una chica con dientes de oro y novios mafiosos. Necesitaba ser algo más que una provocadora implorando a chicas que no se fueran con el segundo mejor. Empecé a buscarle sentido y un propósito real a la vida. Quería ser una madre pero me di cuenta que solo porque era una luchadora de la libertad ya estaba cualificada para criar a un hijo. Decidí que necesitaba tener una vida espiritual y es entonces cuando descubrí Kabbalah.

 Dicen que cuando el estudiante está listo, aparece el profesor. Me temo que este cliché se aplica también a mi. Este fue mi siguiente periodo atrevido. Al principio me sentaba detrás de todo de la clase. Solía ser la única mujer y todo el mundo parecía estar muy serio. La mayoría de los hombres llevaban traje y kippahs. Nadie se dio cuenta de mi, parece que a nadie le importaba y eso me pareció bien. Lo que el profesor decía me sorprendió, resonaba conmigo, me inspiraba. Hablábamos sobre Dios, el paraíso y el infierno pero no sentí que me hicieran tragar dogma religioso. Aprendía sobre ciencia y física cuántica, leía en arameo y estudiaba historia. Me descubrieron una antigua sabiduría que podía aplicar a mi vida de una manera práctica. Por una vez, se animaba a hacer preguntas y debatir. Era mi sitio especial.

Cuando el mundo descubrió que estaba estudiando Kabbalah fui acusada de unirme a una secta. Fui acusada de haber recibido un lavado de cerebro, de dar todo mi dinero. Fui acusada de todas las cosas más extravagantes.

Si me hubiera vuelto budista, puesto un altar en mi casa y empezara a cantar “Nam-myoho-renge-kyo” nadie me hubiera molestado. No quiero ser irrespetuosa con los budistas, pero Kabbalah enojó a mucha gente y creo que lo sigue haciendo. El hecho de que estudiara la interpretación mística del Antiguo Testamento e intentara entender los secretos del universo no era dañino para nadie. Solo iba a clase, tomaba notas en mi cuaderno de espiral y contemplaba mi futuro. En realidad estaba intentando convertirme en una mejor persona.

Por alguna razón, eso enfadó y puso a alguna gente muy nerviosa. ¿Estaba haciendo algo peligroso? Me forzó a preguntarme: ¿es intentar tener una relación con Dios atrevido? Puede que lo sea.

Cuando tenía 45 años estaba casada, con dos hijos y viviendo en Inglaterra. Considero que mudarse a un país extranjero es un acto muy atrevido. No fue fácil. Solo porque hablamos la misma lengua no significa que hablemos el mismo idioma. No comprendía que aun existiera un sistema de clases. No entendía la cultura de los pubs. No entendía que ser abiertamente ambicioso era un problema. Una vez más, me sentía sola. Aun así lo intenté y encontré una manera de disfrutar el humor inglés, la arquitectura gregoriana, el pudin de café y la campiña inglesa. No hay nada más bonito que la campiña inglesa.

Después decidí que tenía vergüenza de ricos y que había muchos niños sin padres o sin familias para quererles. Solicité a una agencia de adopción internacional y seguí toda la burocracia, esperando como hacen todos los que empiezan los tramites de adopción. En la mitad del proceso una mujer de un pequeño país llamado Malawi se acercó y me contó sobre los millones de niños huérfanos por el SIDA. Antes de poder decir “Zikomo Kwambir” ya estaba en el aeropuerto en Lilongwe dirección al orfanato de Mchinji, donde conocí a mi hijo David. Y este fue el comienzo de otro atrevido capítulo de mi vida. No sabía que intentar adoptar a un niño iba a desatar otra tempestad. Pero así fue. Fui acusada de secuestrar, traficar con niños, utilizar mi estatus de celebridad para saltarme la cola, sobornar a empleados del gobierno, brujería, lo que sea. ¡Ciertamente hice algo ilegal!

Esta experiencia me abrió los ojos. Fue uno de los peores momentos de mi vida. Puedo hasta entender que la gente me lo ponga difícil por simular masturbarme en el escenario o por publicar Sex, incluso por besarme con Britney Spears en unos premios. Intentar salvar la vida de un niño no es algo que pensara que iba a ser castigada. Mis amigos intentaron animarme diciendo que era como los dolores del parto que todas tenemos cuando damos a luz. No me consoló mucho pero en cualquier caso,
Lo superé.
Sobreviví.

Cuando adopté a Mercy James, me puse la armadura. Intenté estar más preparada. Me reforcé. Esta vez una jueza de Malawi me acusó de no ser una madre aceptable ya que estaba divorciada. Gané el caso. Me llevó casi otro año y muchos abogados. Me atacaron pero esta vez no dolió tanto como la otra vez. Cuando miro atrás, no me arrepiento ni un solo momento de la lucha.
Una de las muchas cosas que he aprendido de todo esto:
Si no estás dispuesto a luchar por lo que crees, entonces ni entres en el ring.

Diez años después, aquí estoy, divorciada y viviendo en Nueva York. He sido afortunada con cuatro hijos estupendos. Les enseño a pensar fuera de lo común, a ser atrevidos, a hacer las cosas porque es lo correcto y no porque todo el mundo lo hace. He empezado a dirigir películas y es una de las cosas más estimulantes y gratificantes. Estoy construyendo escuelas para niñas en países islámicos y estoy estudiando el Corán. Creo que es importante estudiar todos los libros sagrados. Como dice mi amiga Yaman, un buen musulmán es un buen judío y un buen judío es un buen cristiano y así. No podría estar más de acuerdo. Aun así, para algunos esto es muy atrevido.

Y mientras la vida sigue (gracias a Dios por ello), la idea de ser atrevido se ha convertido en la norma para mi. Por supuesto se trata de percepción porque preguntar, desafiar las ideas de la gente, sus sistemas de creencias y defender a aquellos que no se pueden expresar con libertad se ha convertido en parte de mi vida diaria. En mi libro, esto es normal.
En mi libro, todos hacen algo atrevido.

Por favor, abre este libro. TE RETO.

Harpers Bazaar Madonna Interview, November 2013

Madonna's Back

But she never went away. After 30 years of ruling pop, she tells the truth about daring. See Madonna's daring fashion shoot for our November issue.

TRUTH OR DARE?

That is a catchphrase that's often associated with me. I made a documentary film with this title, and it has stuck to me like flypaper ever since. It's a fun game to play if you're in the mood to take risks, and usually I am. However, you have to play with a clever group of people. Otherwise you'll find yourself French-kissing everyone in the room or giving blow jobs to Evian bottles!

People usually choose "truth" when it's their turn because you can tell a lie about yourself and no one will be the wiser, but when you are dared to do something, you have to actually do it. And doing something daring is a rather scary proposition for most people. Yet for some strange reason, it has become my raison d'être.

If I can't be daring in my work or the way I live my life, then I don't really see the point of being on this planet.

That may sound rather extremist, but growing up in a suburb in the Midwest was all I needed to understand that the world was divided into two categories: people who followed the status quo and played it safe, and people who threw convention out the window and danced to the beat of a different drum. I hurled myself into the second category, and soon discovered that being a rebel and not conforming doesn't make you very popular. In fact, it does the opposite. You are viewed as a suspicious character. A troublemaker. Someone dangerous.

When you're 15, this can feel a little uncomfortable. Teenagers want to fit in on one hand and be rebellious on the other. Drinking beer and smoking weed in the parking lot of my high school was not my idea of being rebellious, because that's what everybody did. And I never wanted to do what everybody did. I thought it was cooler to not shave my legs or under my arms. I mean, why did God give us hair there anyways? Why didn't guys have to shave there? Why was it accepted in Europe but not in America? No one could answer my questions in a satisfactory manner, so I pushed the envelope even further. I refused to wear makeup and tied scarves around my head like a Russian peasant. I did the opposite of what all the other girls were doing, and I turned myself into a real man repeller. I dared people to like me and my nonconformity.

That didn't go very well. Most people thought I was strange. I didn't have many friends; I might not have had any friends. But it all turned out good in the end, because when you aren't popular and you don't have a social life, it gives you more time to focus on your future. And for me, that was going to New York to become a REAL artist. To be able to express myself in a city of nonconformists. To revel and shimmy and shake in a world and be surrounded by daring people.

New York wasn't everything I thought it would be. It did not welcome me with open arms. The first year, I was held up at gunpoint. Raped on the roof of a building I was dragged up to with a knife in my back, and had my apartment broken into three times. I don't know why; I had nothing of value after they took my radio the first time.

The tall buildings and the massive scale of New York took my breath away. The sizzling-hot sidewalks and the noise of the traffic and the electricity of the people rushing by me on the streets was a shock to my neurotransmitters. I felt like I had plugged into another universe. I felt like a warrior plunging my way through the crowds to survive. Blood pumping through my veins, I was poised for survival. I felt alive.

But I was also scared shitless and freaked out by the smell of piss and vomit everywhere, especially in the entryway of my third-floor walk-up.

And all the homeless people on the street. This wasn't anything I prepared for in Rochester, Michigan. Trying to be a professional dancer, paying my rent by posing nude for art classes, staring at people staring at me naked. Daring them to think of me as anything but a form they were trying to capture with their pencils and charcoal. I was defiant. Hell-bent on surviving. On making it. But it was hard and it was lonely, and I had to dare myself every day to keep going. Sometimes I would play the victim and cry in my shoe box of a bedroom with a window that faced a wall, watching the pigeons shit on my windowsill. And I wondered if it was all worth it, but then I would pull myself together and look at a postcard of Frida Kahlo taped to my wall, and the sight of her mustache consoled me. Because she was an artist who didn't care what people thought. I admired her. She was daring. People gave her a hard time. Life gave her a hard time. If she could do it, then so could I.

When you're 25, it's a little bit easier to be daring, especially if you are a pop star, because eccentric behavior is expected from you. By then I was shaving under my arms, but I was also wearing as many crucifixes around my neck as I could carry, and telling people in interviews that I did it because I thought Jesus was sexy. Well, he was sexy to me, but I also said it to be provocative. I have a funny relationship with religion. I'm a big believer in ritualistic behavior as long as it doesn't hurt anybody. But I'm not a big fan of rules. And yet we cannot live in a world without order. But for me, there is a difference between rules and order. Rules people follow without question. Order is what happens when words and actions bring people together, not tear them apart. Yes, I like to provoke; it's in my DNA. But nine times out of 10, there's a reason for it.

At 35, I was divorced and looking for love in all the wrong places. I decided that I needed to be more than a girl with gold teeth and gangster boyfriends. More than a sexual provocateur imploring girls not to go for second-best baby. I began to search for meaning and a real sense of purpose in life. I wanted to be a mother, but I realized that just because I was a freedom fighter didn't mean I was qualified to raise a child. I decided I needed to have a spiritual life. That's when I discovered Kabbalah.

They say that when the student is ready, the teacher appears, and I'm afraid that cliché applied to me as well. That was the next daring period of my life. In the beginning I sat at the back of the classroom. I was usually the only female. Everyone looked very serious. Most of the men wore suits and kippahs. No one noticed me and no one seemed to care, and that suited me just fine. What the teacher was saying blew my mind. Resonated with me. Inspired me. We were talking about God and heaven and hell, but I didn't feel like religious dogma was being shoved down my throat. I was learning about science and quantum physics. I was reading Aramaic. I was studying history. I was introduced to an ancient wisdom that I could apply to my life in a practical way. And for once, questions and debate were encouraged. This was my kind of place.

When the world discovered I was studying Kabbalah, I was accused of joining a cult. I was accused of being brainwashed. Of giving away all my money. I was accused of all sorts of crazy things. If I became a Buddhist—put an altar in my house and started chanting "Nam-myoho-renge-kyo"—no one would have bothered me at all. I mean no disrespect to Buddhists, but Kabbalah really freaked people out. It still does. Now, you would think that studying the mystical interpretation of the Old Testament and trying to understand the secrets of the universe was a harmless thing to do. I wasn't hurting anybody. Just going to class, taking notes in my spiral notebook, contemplating my future. I was actually trying to become a better person.

For some reason, that made people nervous. It made people mad. Was I doing something dangerous? It forced me to ask myself, Is trying to have a relationship with God daring? Maybe it is.

When I was 45, I was married again, with two children and living in England. I consider moving to a foreign country to be a very daring act. It wasn't easy for me. Just because we speak the same language doesn't mean we speak the same language. I didn't understand that there was still a class system. I didn't understand pub culture. I didn't understand that being openly ambitious was frowned upon. Once again I felt alone. But I stuck it out and I found my way, and I grew to love English wit, Georgian architecture, sticky toffee pudding, and the English countryside. There is nothing more beautiful than the English countryside.

Then I decided that I had an embarrassment of riches and that there were too many children in the world without parents or families to love them. I applied to an international adoption agency and went through all the bureaucracy, testing, and waiting that everyone else goes through when they adopt. As fate would have it, in the middle of this process a woman reached out to me from a small country in Africa called Malawi, and told me about the millions of children orphaned by AIDS. Before you could say "Zikomo Kwambiri," I was in the airport in Lilongwe heading to an orphanage in Mchinji, where I met my son David. And that was the beginning of another daring chapter of my life. I didn't know that trying to adopt a child was going to land me in another shit storm. But it did. I was accused of kidnapping, child trafficking, using my celebrity muscle to jump ahead in the line, bribing government officials, witchcraft, you name it. Certainly I had done something illegal!

This was an eye-opening experience. A real low point in my life. I could get my head around people giving me a hard time for simulating masturbation onstage or publishing my Sex book, even kissing Britney Spears at an awards show, but trying to save a child's life was not something I thought I would be punished for. Friends tried to cheer me up by telling me to think of it all as labor pains that we all have to go through when we give birth. This was vaguely comforting. In any case, I got through it. I survived.

When I adopted Mercy James, I put my armor on. I tried to be more prepared. I braced myself. This time I was accused by a female Malawian judge that because I was divorced, I was an unfit mother. I fought the supreme court and I won. It took almost another year and many lawyers. I still got the shit kicked out of me, but it didn't hurt as much. And looking back, I do not regret one moment of the fight.

One of the many things I learned from all of this: If you aren't willing to fight for what you believe in, then don't even enter the ring.

Ten years later, here I am, divorced and living in New York. I have been blessed with four amazing children. I try to teach them to think outside the box. To be daring. To choose to do things because they are the right thing to do, not because everybody else is doing them. I have started making films, which is probably the most challenging and rewarding thing I have ever done. I am building schools for girls in Islamic countries and studying the Qur'an. I think it is important to study all the holy books. As my friend Yaman always tells me, a good Muslim is a good Jew, and a good Jew is a good Christian, and so forth. I couldn't agree more. To some people this is a very daring thought.

As life goes on (and thank goodness it has), the idea of being daring has become the norm for me. Of course, this is all about perception because asking questions, challenging people's ideas and belief systems, and defending those who don't have a voice have become a part of my everyday life. In my book, it is normal.

In my book, everyone is doing something daring. Please open this book. I dare you.

Harpers Bazaar (2013)