She is a steel beam in the middle of a roaring river, resisting and standing against the current of expectations.

The American cultural landscape is composed of markers such as Mount Rushmore, the Statue of Liberty, Hollywood, jazz and, added two decades ago, Madonna.

I never made a point to listen to her music, but somehow know by heart the lyrics to “Like a Virgin.”

Coming out of the shadows of women’s repressed voices, Madonna seeped into people’s subconscious, first as taboo, and now as familiar icon.

I recall my older sister, who preferred the big-haired rock of Poison, melting with giddiness every time MTV unveiled a new Madonna video. At the age of 9 I never questioned why Madonna had that effect on girls. I simply understood it as another one of life’s undeniable truths; like parents were to work everyday and vegetables were to be fought against no matter what.

I never consciously avoided Madonna. Her influence saturated most media outlets, so I never felt the thirst for more. I’ve spent a lifetime only knowing Madonna through osmosis, and not by choice.

A sister who occasionally dabbled in Madonna was my only direct contact with the pop goddess. Both my confusion about, and understanding of, Madonna resulted from my sister’s reactions to her antics.

At 9 years old I was aware, or programmed, enough to recognize that someone who regularly listens to Guns N’ Roses, Poison, and Ratt shouldn’t be dancing to Madonna. People like my sister were expected to stomp Madonna’s albums in a teenage angst-induced mosh pit.

Back then, Madonna’s poppy syntho sounds were in opposition with the screaming guitars of the dying hairband, pre-grunge acts. Interestingly, even though Madonna followers were considered more innocent than rockers, the controversies created by those bands are eclipsed in Madonna’s revolutionary shadow.

A sex book, hypersexual concerts, interracial music videos, and shamelessly lewd statements gave parents nightmares — and daughters ideas.

A group of men who scream about women, alcohol and drugs seems blasé. A powerful woman singing about her sexual fantasies while criticizing a male dominated society, flipping roles, seems more significant.

Consciously, or subconsciously, my sister must have noticed this. The video for “Like a Virgin” displays a youthful Madonna expressing feelings about great sex. Not only did Madonna have the balls to express her sexuality, she did it in a non-objectifying way.

In “Express Yourself” Madonna lets herself gyrate proactively alone in an apartment above a factory of finely chiseled men who appear to be fantasizing about her. This is the world turning according to Madonna’s rules, wishes and sexual drives. She is the center of the world, uncontrolled by the male gaze, freed from it.

Later, dressed in a masculinizing business suit, Madonna dances in the factory for workers, expressing her sexuality and letting it control the men. A transition from prey to predator makes its way in the realm of pragmatic possibilities of a 1980s world, and a teenage girls’ heads.

I can comprehend why my sister and most women, adore Madonna. She is a steel beam in the middle of a roaring river, resisting and standing against the current of expectations. Hope is restored and women empowered with the belief that, they too, can resist.

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