The Ultimate Gay GenX Song

What I love about songs and poetry is the different interpretations a listener or reader can get from them. The writer may intend a particular meaning, usually inspired by a personal experience. Depending on the person listening, or the time of their life, it can take on something entirely different.

On May 28th, I was a guest on GenXy, where we discussed GenX Pride. We talked about endearing nicknames for gay/straight best friends, use of terms like gay and queer, using humor to stave off depression, and of course, I promoted my Midwest Pride Tour, happening every Saturday in June.

The focus of the GenXy publication is the attributes of people born into Generation X (as the pub name implies) and issues affecting them. One of the questions

Dana DuBois

and Lawrence Winnerman ask at the end of each “Daily Whatever” episode is:

“What is the ultimate GenX song?”

Green Day has always been one of my favorite bands, so naturally, I had to go with one of their songs, “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life).”

Another turning point, a fork stuck in the road
Time grabs you by the wrist, directs you where to go
So make the best of this test and don’t ask why
It’s not a question but a lesson learned in time

It’s something unpredictable, but in the end is right
I hope you had the time of your life

The song was often played at graduations in my area, which seems appropriate. Considering my experiences in high school, I was certainly ready to say good riddance to it.

I was driving the other day when I heard Billie Joe Armstrong’s (Green Day’s lead singer) distinct voice on the radio. He was covering a song originally recorded in the 1960s. It gained even more popularity when it was covered in 1987.

It was originally written as a romantic ballad, but then was sped up and became more of a dance track, especially when Tiffany recorded it. But when I listened to Billie Joe singing it, the words hit me much differently.

If you can, try to imagine a closeted, gay, teenage boy growing up in the conservative Midwest as you read the words.

“Children, behave!”
That’s what they say when we’re together
“And watch how you play.”
They don’t understand
And so we’re

Running just as fast as we can…
I think we’re alone now.

Look at the way
We gotta hide what we're doing
'Cause what would they say,
If they ever knew?
And so we're
Running just as fast as we can…

Watch on YouTube

Billie Joe’s rendition of “I Think We’re Alone Now” actually brought tears to my eyes as I listened with this new perspective. I guess I was basically feeling sorry for myself. I grieved for my lost adolescence, which was ruined by the fear of judgment.

Not many queer icons existed in Generation X; at least, very few who publicly admitted to it. Teenagers emulate trends they see from their idols. Since we saw almost no openly gay people, many of us stayed in the closet, too.

I was sheltered from “worldly” and “sinful” movies and music. Even if I’d been exposed to more icons like Elton John, Boy George, or Freddie Mercury, my family still made it impossible for me to be who I was.

I often wonder what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t needed—or at least felt the need—to hide my sexuality. I frequently say that I was born at the wrong time. Growing up queer in a rural area can still be challenging today, but it was much worse when I was a teen.

I didn’t physically leave home to get away from the judgment, condemnation, and overall homophobia. But in my mind, I was running just as fast as I could, and when I couldn’t escape the reality of my true feelings, I said, “I think I’m alone now,” because I knew I would receive no support from family or friends.

The song is about teenage rebellion, and two people who have to hide their relationship. So, the difference in my life was that I didn’t have another hand to hold or someone’s arms wrapped around me as I tumbled to the ground—repeatedly.

The good news is that today, I’m no longer running. I don’t think I’m alone now, and I’m trying to have the time of my life. To that lonely and sometimes traumatic past, I say, Good Riddance!

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