Music critic Barry Walters wrote a history of LGBT culture from 1969 to 2000. We tell you the main things about this book

Music journalist Barry Walters, whose writings have appeared for decades in Rolling Stone, The Village Voice and The Advocate, published a book "Mighty Real: A History of LGBTQ Music, 1969–2000". This is a wide-ranging study of how music was created by and for queer people, from the Stonewall Riots to the dawn of the Internet age.

What is this book about?

"Mighty Real" is both a reference guide and the author’s personal memoir. In 60 chapters, Walters analyzes the work of hundreds of artists: from icons like David Bowie, Elton John, and Madonna to lesser-known pioneers such as Patrick Huggerty of Lavender Country or the artists on the Olivia Records label.

The book’s title refers to the hit song “You Make Me Feel Mighty Real” by disco singer Sylvester. For Walters, it’s not just a song, but a symbol: he bought that record on the day he started college, when he got lost in New York City and felt for the first time that he “belonged” amid the diversity of the metropolis.

Why did the author decide to write it?

Walters’s main source of inspiration was film historian Vito Russo’s *The Celluloid Closet* (1981), which explored homosexuality in cinema. Walters knew Russo personally and wanted to create a similar work, but one devoted to pop music.

According to the author, for generations who grew up before the internet existed, music was the primary tool for self-discovery. “We couldn’t just go online and find other gay people. We had to put on a record,” he explains. For example, it was through David Bowie’s songs that 11-year-old Barry first learned the word “bisexual” and began to understand his own identity.

Which artists are we talking about?

The book covers a wide range of authors and genres:

• Madonna: Walters describes in detail how she brought the aesthetic of New York clubs to stadiums and how rock critics hated her for it, failing to understand that her image came from “a smart and personal place.”
• Whitney Houston and Luther Vandross: These are the saddest chapters in the book. Walters, who interviewed both of them personally, writes about “the price of secrecy.” In his view, the inability to openly declare their identities destroyed their self-esteem and indirectly led to their premature deaths. He recalls how, after turning off the recorder, Whitney introduced her partner, Robin Crawford, to him as “the love of her life,” even though she never publicly acknowledged it.
• The B-52s and the Village People: Although their hits like “YMCA” and “Love Shack” have become staples at any wedding, the industry long ignored their contribution. Walters notes that The B-52s have still not been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, which, in his opinion, is evidence of latent homophobia in the music business.

Why read this story today?

Walters emphasizes that queer art is universal. He wanted to write a book “so gay that it becomes accessible to everyone,” drawing a parallel to how Kendrick Lamar’s hip-hop, while deeply rooted in Black culture, is understandable and interesting to everyone.

The author dedicated this work to his children and future generations, so that they might understand what their predecessors had to go through and why this music meant so much to the community in the era before smartphones and AIDS medications. The book ends in 2000, but Walters hasn’t ruled out a sequel that would explore the influence of the internet and politics on contemporary music.