Current Contemplation: Loving the Alien (Media Representation and White Privilege as Examined Through David Bowie's Best Work)

David Bowie from his music video about religious and racial reconciliation: "Loving the Alien" (1984)

Representation.  White Privilege.  Diversity.  These are all terms that have been haphazardly thrown around in the past decade when talking about a multitude of topics and controversies.  Today, I want to examine what these terms mean and how to use them correctly in the context of media/art.

For a start, let me define the terms "Diversity" and "Representation".  According to the dictionary, "Diversity" is defined as: 1) The state or fact of being diverse 2) Variety; multiformity.  To be "Diverse" means: 1) Of a different kind, form, character, etc. 2) Of various kinds or forms; multiform 3) Including representatives from more than one social, cultural, or economic group, especially members of ethnic or religious minority groups.  Thus, when I use the term "Diversity" in the context of media/art, I am referring to the third definition of, "Including representatives from more than one social, cultural, or economic group, especially members of ethnic or religious minority groups".

But what does it mean to include "representatives"? In the dictionary, "Representation" is defined as: 1) The act of representing 2) The state of being represented".  While "Represent" means: 1) To serve to express, designate, stand for, or denote, as a word, symbol, or the like does; symbolize 2) To speak and act for by delegated authority 3) To portray or depict; present the likeness of, as a picture does 4) To set forth or describe as having a particular character (usually followed by as, to be, etc.).  When I say "include representatives" in diversity as pertaining to media/art, I am referring to several definitions of the word "represent".  This is because I am talking about the importance of both on and off screen representation.

I believe there should be diverse representatives on-screen to portray many walks of life.  This is because audiences from all over the world should be included in the narratives we tell, which are just as diverse as ourselves.  There should also be diverse representation off-screen to make sure the creators of the on-screen content are able to accurately and fairly create a multilayered, textured work of art.

Okay, you say, fair enough.  Include more diverse representation in our creators and performers to make better art.  But what about this "white privilege" thing? As defined by the Washington Post, "White Privilege" is:

...the level of societal advantage that comes with being seen as the norm in America, automatically conferred irrespective of wealth, gender or other factors.  It makes life smoother, but it's something you would barely notice unless it were suddenly taken away - or unless it had never applied to you in the first place [....] Pointing out that white privilege exists isn't the same as accusing every white person of being a racist.  Acknowledging that you might benefit from such privilege isn't equivalent to self-hatred or kowtowing to detested "social justice warriors."  The thing about white privilege is that it tends to be unintentional, unconscious, uncomfortable to recgonize but easy to take for granted.  But it's that very invisibility that makes it that much more important to understand: Without confronting what exists, there's no chance of leveling the field.

I'm not here to argue whether or not white privilege exists in other areas of society (politics, corporations, etc.) but here in American (and other western civilizations') media it's certainly true.  As an Asian American, it is difficult to break into White Hollywood.  Whether on screen or off, studios don't believe that Asians can be leading figures in media, as written about in the LA Times.  And if you do make it, don't expect equal pay as the New York Times highlighted recently in an article with the headline: "2 Asian-American Actors Leave ‘Hawaii Five-0’ Amid Reports of Unequal Pay".  These are just a few of many stories about unfair treatment to Asian (Americans) both on and off screen - let alone other people of colour - of which there are sadly many more found both online and off.

So if you are an artist in the media who has white privilege - a platform on which to stand and an audience whom to speak - what should you do? Take a leaf out of David Bowie's handbook.

Bowie, a British artist who was "snow white tan" knew just how to properly use his white privilege, and why being an advocate for more diverse representation not only benefited others, but also benefited his own career.  Let's take a look at some of the highlights of his career where he worked with artists of colour.

First No. 1 American Hit: "Fame"

Bowie had struggled for years to break into the American market and in 1975 his dream was finally realized with the song "Fame".  "Fame" became a US number one before he ever topped the charts back in the UK. (Pegg, 2016)  Most people know "Fame" for being co-written by Bowie and John Lennon (yes, that John Lennon).  However, it's also credited as being co-written by Carlos Alomar, a Puerto Rican American musician.  "Fame" was the first song he ever wrote - cowritten with Lennon and Bowie - and chosen as the lead single for the 1975 album Young Americans.

Alomar and Bowie performing on stage in 1980

Alomar is a wickedly good guitar player who's played with some of the best: Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, Bruce Springsteen, Simple Minds, Bruno Mars, Alicia Keys, and Duran Duran to name a few. [x] [x ] And as a guitarist in high demand and talent, Bowie was determined to work with him.  According to an interview with Pitchfork, he met Bowie in the early 1970s.  Alomar recalled:

I meet him during production of the Lulu tracks that he was doing at RCA, where I was the house guitarist. I meet him and we hang out, we really hit it off as people.
Then he tells me he wants to do an album. Well, I was already working with the Main Ingredient, so I couldn’t do it. A little while later he calls me back: “I’m doing Diamond Dogs”—but I still can’t do it. Then he calls me back: “I’m going to Philadelphia, I need to do this record [Young Americans], come on.” And I said, “Well, financially I can’t do it”—but he said “no problem.” 

Indeed, Bowie tried to work with Alomar multiple times, recoginzing his raw talent as the best in the business.  Finally for Young Americans Bowie offered enough financial incentive to seduce Alomar into being a part of his band. Clearly, Bowie recognized that if he wanted the best, he would have to be willing to pay for it.  And he didn't offer Alomar any less for being a Latin-American artist.  [x]  In a Rolling Stone interview, Alomar said:

He eventually said, "What kind of guitar do you play?" And I said, "I play any guitar that pays." So when you start a relationship like that, you see that it's professional. As always, you have a need and you have a want, and when they meet, great music is made.

Not only did Bowie fairly compensate Alomar for his guitar playing, he also had a level of remarkable trust in his abilities in the studio and intuition about music.  As Alomar recalled:

So here I am. When I tried to ask people about him, nobody knew anything, but I figured “this sounds interesting, he is really a nice guy.” For Young Americans he wants the real soul singers, he wants the real deal. I married the real deal, Robin Clark. She’s already got all her credits. And my best friend was Luther Vandross, the greatest singer I know. Diane Sumler, Anthony Hinton, Emir Kassan, I got all my friends. And he’s like “bring them along.” [....]

In hindsight, [about "Fame" and recording Young Americans] we could say a lot of things. For instance, James Brown stole “Fame” from David Bowie—but did he really steal it from David Bowie? Or did he steal it from Carlos Alomar? [laughs] Because there ain't a funky bone in David Bowie's body that would ever create a song like “Fame.” I have a lot to be proud of on that record and it was all allowed by David. To think I'd bring my best friend—who had never been on a record, never been in a studio, Luther Vandross—and that David would say, “Hey Luther, go in there and see what it sounds like. I know you were just playing around in the lounge, but I like what you were doing, go see what it sounds like on the record.” And when he sings “Young Americans” and you hear Robin and them all singing, "young American young American he wants the young American alllllright"—that man just discovered Luther Vandross! Just like that.  

This style of just "inviting everyone along" was quite common for the artist, as evidenced even in his early BBC recording sessions, where the presenter noted that Bowie brought in his friends from "just down the road" to play with him on the radio (Bowie at the Beeb, 2000).  This easy-going style of recruiting the best around clearly ended up paying dividends for the benefit of his work - and Bowie knew it.

As to the style of the funky album, Bowie himself agreed in 1976 that Young Americans was, "...the definitive plastic soul record. It's the squashed remains of ethnic music as it survives in the age of Muzak rock, written and sung by a white limey."  "Plastic Soul" being the term coined in the 1960s by black musicians about white artists who sang soul music.

Famous for "stealing" bits and pieces of culture and music from all over the world, Bowie never hid the origin of his inspirations, nor did he try to.  He had an insatiable curiosity to learn about the world around him, and that knowledge naturally filtered its way into his art.  As Bowie once said, "I’ve always found that I collect. I’m a collector. I’ve always just seemed to collect personalities, ideas. I have a hodgepodge philosophy which really is very minimal."  And as Alomar said of their mutual enjoyment of learning:

[Bowie] was very easy to connect with. He was happy. He and I shared one gigantic, human thing: We are so damn curious. I wanted to know about everything from his Spiders From Mars; he wanted to know everything about what working with James Brown was like. I wanted to know what the hell is up with all that orange hair and all that glam-rock stuff; he wants to know about the Chitlin' Circuit. He listened to jazz; I played jazz. It was a meeting of the minds. 

Thus, Bowie understood that he needed to go straight to the source of his multi-cultural inspirations.  By source, of course, I'm referring to the people who were truly a part of and created the culture involved with said inspiration.  He wanted the best for his "plastic soul" album, which meant that he didn't hire white musicians to try and imitate the sound of soul - he wanted the original creators and their original talent.

Not only that, but he made sure to pay for it fairly and honestly just like with any other musician.  In short, he used his white privilege of having record companies want to work with him in order to bring other musicians along for the ride - the best of the best.  And he understood that meant to work with talent rather than skin colour.  Alomar would go on to become one of Bowie's longest collaborators, working with him for over two decades.  As Alomar succinctly put it, "Look, musicians think a very simple way.  A group of musicians can take each other higher than one individual musician can go by himself.  That's all there is to it."

The Break-Through: Ziggy Stardust

If you're a Bowie fan worth their salt - or even a casual consumer of pop culture, you will know that Ziggy Stardust was Bowie's most famous and iconic contribution to rock 'n' roll history.  Conceived as a rock 'n' roller from outer space, Ziggy Stardust would become Bowie's most enduring creation.  Asked about the influences and inspiration about the alien for decades (until he stopped giving interviews), Bowie made no secret that Ziggy was a conglomeration of his own interests and passions.  The name was taken partially from Iggy Pop and the Legendary Stardust Cowboy, while the musical styling was a British take on Americana influences, and the story was a loose narrative, worked around authors from all over the world.  (Pegg, 2016) But the most iconic thing about Ziggy was his appearance.  And that look was taken from Japan.

Bowie's love and influence of Japanese culture in his visual artistic work is anything but subtle.  In many interviews over the years he would reference Japanese fashion and culture as major components to the creation of Ziggy - particularly Kabuki Theatre.  One of my all-time favourite articles on the subject comes from the BBC:

David Bowie [...] was a well-known Japanophile, adopting many elements of Japanese culture into his stage performances. [....] Bowie's Japanese style had already been developing through his interest in Japanese theatre.  In the mid-1960s, he studied dance with Lindsay Kemp, a British performance and mime artist who was heavily influenced by the traditional kabuki style, with its exaggerated gestures, elaborate costumes, striking make-up, and "onnagata" actors - men playing female roles.  Bowie was a natural "shapeshifter", says Ms Thian [fashion historian and lifelong fan who has written extensively about Bowie], and his training with Kemp and onnagata style helped him as he explored ideas of masculinity, exoticism and alienation.  He even learned from famed onnagata Tamasaburo Bando how to apply traditional kabuki make-up - its bold highlighted features on a white background are evident in the lightning bolt across the Ziggy face. 

"It wasn't trying to be literal interpretation" of onnagata, said Ms Thian, "but rather inspired by its gender-bending androgyny. That's what makes it so powerful, it's more evocative." 

[....] Among his most famous outfits for Bowie was Space Samurai, a black, red and blue outfit adapting the hakama, a type of loose trousers which samurais wore and which are still worn by martial arts practitioners.  He also sometimes wore a kimono-inspired cape with traditional Japanese characters on it which spell out his name phonetically, but also translate to "fiery vomiting and venting in a menacing manner". 

Ms Thian says Bowie was also "absolutely the first" Western artist to employ the hayagawari - literally "quick change" - technique from kabuki, ... with unseen stagehands ripping off the dramatic cape on stage to reveal another outfit.

Which, speaking of outfits, Japan's first fashion stylist, Yasuko Takahashi, played a critical role in creating Ziggy's appearance as a someone who, "...really sang/[with] Screwed up eyes and screw down hairdo/Like some cat from Japan/...Well hung and snow white tan."

Bowie with Takahashi in the early 1970s before a Ziggy Stardust show

Japan's first fashion stylist, Yasuko Takahashi, talked about how Kabuki also influenced her own work with Bowie - and his clothing - during the early 1970s in a Hollywood Reporter interview, recalling:

In 1972 I was in London coordinating a photo shoot with T. Rex for Masayoshi Sukita.  One day, we found a strange poster in the street. It was of David Bowie. I called RCA and they approved Sukita to photograph David. We did a session with him, wearing Kansai Yamamoto’s clothes, after his July 8th show at Royal Festival Hall, which Sukita and I attended. It was the first time seeing him live, and we were really into his world. 

I went to New York in 1973 for David's first performance at Radio City as his stylist. I brought all the clothes from Kansai’s London show for him to wear. David wore traditional Japanese ninja outfit in order to change costumes quickly and I worked as a "Kuroko" (a stagehand in Kabuki theater), wearing a black leotard and pantaloons. To my outfit, I added children's suspenders with glittered spangles on them, which nobody noticed except of course David. They caught his eye and he said, "How sweet your suspenders are! They are exactly you." It made me happy that he noticed and said something. On stage, David wore Kansai's black jumpsuit with the wide legs, and I ran toward him to quickly change his look, and in a blink David was standing there in his colorful knitwear. All the looks were unisex and tailored to fit him. 

In April 1977, David came to Tokyo with Iggy Pop....On the way to the studio in Harajuku, I chose to take the more colorful backstreets. David took it all in. He said to Iggy, "Look, this area has great atmosphere!” and Iggy agreed. These small, happy moments happened all the time while working with David.

Just like Alomar, it's clear that Takahashi remembered how warm Bowie was in welcoming her opinions and incorporating her culture (that he was also deeply interested in) into his work.  And Takahashi also, like Bowie and Alomar, recognized talent and an opportunity for collaboration when she saw it.  She became friends with the artist and was the one responsible for introducing Bowie to Kansai Yamamoto.

Yamamoto was one of the leaders of Japanese contemporary fashion in the 1970s and 1980s, known for his avant-garde kimono designs.  [x] He was also, incidentally, the mastermind behind creating The "Ziggy Look" we all think of - his androgynous, eccentric, colourful appearance is all thanks to the vision of this Japanese designer.  Takahashi would go on to design all of the costumes for the Ziggy Stardust 1973 tour in the UK and the subsequent US tour. [x]

Bowie with stylist Yamamoto before his performance as Ziggy Stardust in the early 1970s

In an interview Yamamoto recalled meeting and working with Bowie:

My Japanese friend Yasuko Takahashi, who was the producer of my 1971 London show, insisted that I fly to New York to see Bowie's show as he was using items from my womenswear collection. I met him after the show at Radio City Music Hall and we immediately bonded. Our relationship developed from there. [....] When he visited Tokyo, I took him to a market and he was delighted to find an over-the-shoulder bag, which he bought. But actually it was of a type made for Japanese bus drivers! How would I describe him? Sensitive, bold, and dynamic. I was impressed at the way he totally connected with his audience.

Like Alomar and Takahasi, Bowie knew to let Yamamoto's genius shine through with his elaborate costumes and beautiful designs.  In fact, he already knew a lot about his work and had been an admirer before they even met.  As the Hollywood Reporter wrote:

[Yamamoto:] "After my first fashion show in London, my clothes were stocked in a shop called Boston 151 on Kings Road in London. David had bought my Woodland Creatures jumpsuit with rabbits on it from there. I wasn't really based there, but I felt that London was the place I felt most comfortable, and where my clothes were most appreciated. I didn't really know about David's work then. I was more visual than audio. And when David wore my women's clothes, people were very surprised. My clothes were designed to be worn by women. When I think of it, it was a bizarre thing for him to do. Luckily David had a very slim body and they fit him very well — no fittings." Yes, Bowie was already a real fan when he met Yamamoto through Takahashi. 

Bowie debuted many of these Yamamoto confections, as curated by stylist Takahashi, at his first Ziggy Stardust show at New York's Radio City Music Hall in 1973. Says Yamamoto: "Some sort of chemical reaction took place: My clothes became part of David, his songs and his music. They became part of the message he delivered to the world. He even wanted to go a bit crazier," muses the designer. "Now, if Yasuko hadn't linked David and myself, my jumpsuits would still be sleeping at the corner of my little room in Tokyo I had at the time." Instead, his jumpsuits — and jumpsuits in general — became iconic. As did David Bowie.

Clearly, the mutual respect and admiration between the two benefitted both artists and their work - both would go on to be icons in their own fields.  While the man responsible for capturing the Image of Ziggy would go on to develop a forty-year long working relationship with Bowie - which included capturing one of his most iconic covers.

Sukita and Bowie photographed in 1989

Masayoshi Sukita photographed Bowie from the 1970s all the way into the 21st century.  He recalled in Time magazine meeting the embryonic Ziggy:

In the very beginning, when I first met David Bowie, I was in London back in 1972. I went to London to shoot T-Rex and of course I knew T-Rex back then, but I didn’t know who David Bowie was. I saw a concert poster on the street and I asked students about David Bowie, they were fans of him as an upcoming artist, and I thought that I should contact him to take a photo. I showed Bowie my portfolio, he liked it. First meeting him, I didn’t know who he was or his music, but Bowie was learning dance with Lindsay Kemp. His body movement was just amazing, so that was my first impression of Bowie and movement. Music-wise, back then there was Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, which was pretty popular, so Bowie was into space and fantasy music, it was all combined, and became iconic. 

And if capturing the look of Ziggy Stardust wasn't enough, Sukita later went on to shoot the cover of "Heroes" (1977), which would later be chosen to be the "defaced" cover (symbolic of all great rock 'n' roll tradition from the past) for the new album - The Next Day (2013).  Sukita spoke of his creative process for shooting "Heroes":

[....] Back then, David Bowie was producing Iggy Pop, so they came to Japan for promotion for Iggy Pop. They called me up for an hour photo shoot each, so it didn’t start off as an album cover, it was just a general photo session. I didn’t think of any creative settings for David, everything just came out of the nature of David, he was just sitting or standing, or making a move. Then I realized, taking a portrait as a natural being was more interesting than making a creative setting. Instead of giving him directions, I just captured the nature of Bowie. I sent a bunch of contact sheets I picked to David and a month later, he told me that they'd use that photo as the album cover, I was really happy about it. 

[....] I never thought of David as specifically a friend or subject, he’s always "David Bowie." I was interested in Western culture and David Bowie was always interested in Eastern culture. He loved Kyoto, even before we met. David loves to go to Kyoto and pursue Japanese culture and traditional things. We’ve been exchanging the Eastern and Western cultures all these years, which is how we built our relationship. Every time we take photos, it’s not pre-planned. It’s not like calling the manager and saying “Are you available, what time?” So with him, it’s really hard to differentiate between friend or subject. [x]  

Yet again another example of how Bowie and an artist of a different race/culture were able to bond over a mutual admiration, respect, and trust for the other's work combined with a burning thirst for knowledge and a curiosity about the world around them.  This makes it clear to me that although Bowie incorporated elements from Japan and Japanese culture into his work, he wasn't appropriating, but collaborating.  One of my all-time favourite articles on this subject comes from the BBC, which had to say this about Bowie's love of and for Japan:

It wasn't just his appearance - references to Japan are scattered through Bowie's music - his 1977 album Heroes even features the track Moss Garden on which he plays a Japanese koto, a kind of zither. 

These days, an artist in Bowie's position might be accused of cultural appropriation - stealing another culture for his own purposes - but Ms Thian says it was never seen that way in Japan. 

"Bowie was born to be the ultimate diplomat and artiste," she says, "He took his creativity and fused it with his impulses to meld East and West and come up with a healing of the world in this post-war period."  This was "a homage to Japanese culture and the Japanese loved it", she said, as Bowie challenged the tendency of Western fashion at the time to lump all Asian styles together as "Orientalism". 

Indeed, Japan embraced Bowie back, and he remains an icon there, with his glam rock style influencing generations of bands and musicians.  Renowned rock guitarist Hotei Tomayasu, best known outside Japan for composing the theme for Quentin Tarantino's Kill Bill films, told the BBC: "[Bowie] is the one who truly changed my life. My eternal hero and inspiration."

Furthermore, Bowie's decision to draw inspiration from Japan continued long after Ziggy Stardust.  On "It's No Game (No. 1)", his opening track to Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps) (1980), Bowie decideded to open his art rock album with Japanese lyrics sung by a feminine voice.  Pegg writes of the song:

The most striking feature [of the song], however, is Michi Hirota's aggressive narration of the lyric's Japanese translation by Hisashi Miura. According to Tony Visconti, the original idea was that Bowie should sing it himself, and Hirota was 'a Japanese actress from the London production of 'The King And I' who was hired to coach David. She discovered that the lyrics were literal and not poetic, therefore they couldn't synchronize with the melody. It was David's idea for her to narrative parts of the song instead.' Bowie explained that he conceived the idea 'to break down a particular kind of sexist attitude about women and I thought the Japanese girl typifies it where everybody sort of pictures her as a geisha girl - sweet, demure and non-thinking. So she sang the lyrics in a macho, Samurai voice.'" (Pegg, 2016)

Once again, Bowie proved that he wants the nothing but the best for his work - and that means the original talent, regardless of ethnicity (or gender, for that matter).  He continued to incorporate the original people and talent which inspired him.  Together, the collaboration would go on to make the final product better than if he had done it on his own.

Not to mention the other work Bowie did to heighten Asian representation and to denounce the fetishization of "Oriental" culture.  In particular, his music videos for "China Girl" does an excellent job of just that through its use of satire and symbolism.  Additionally, in 1993 Bowie appeared on an MTv special where he revealed the background behind his music videos.  In regards to "China Girl", he (rather satirically at times) stated:

The next video, "China Girl", tended to upset the tabloid press at the time.  Cause I had my clothes off, it was enough to frighten anybody, I suppose. However my companion in the video, Geeling, certainly didn't frighten anybody.  Wonderful, beautiful attractive girl.  Why did I make that the way that I made it? Cause it's a great shot.  This was a vignette of my continuing fascination with all things Asian and - one thing that I was surprised by when I was in Australia was the large Chinese population.  There's a very large Chinese community, so I based this whole piece of work around that particular community, and this was the resultant. 

Here we see Bowie use his white privilege in order to highlight a minority community.  And Bowie also made sure to use actors and actresses with the proper ethnic background to represent their role in representing the Asian Australian community.  Once more showcasing the correct use of white prilvege by making sure to tell other narratives different from his own - and he convinced a major studio to foot the bill to boot. [x]

Commercial Success: Let's Dance

1983 saw the first widespread commercial success of David Bowie.  As he put in a 1990 interview, "Up until 1983 I was the - I had the biggest cult audience in the world.  I mean, it was just - I had an audience, and it was quite big, but it was a cult audience, I was never kind of - over the - you know? And that kind of made me mainstream, or overground, or whatever.  And I've had problems with that ever since [laughs]".  [x] And that widespread success was due to his co-producer: Nile Rodgers.

Bowie and Rodgers in 1983

Rodgers co-produced the disco-rock album Let's Dance (1983) with Bowie.  With the title track and "Modern Love" as hit singles, the album sold nearly 11 million copies worldwide. [x] Rodgers recalled meeting Bowie in Rolling Stone, stating:

I met him totally by accident, and from the moment we met, we couldn't stop talking to each other. I was with Billy Idol in 1982 and we walked into [New York club] the Continental. He saw David and went, "Bloody hell, that's David fucking Bow…" and barfed and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. By that time, I had already gone over to David because I didn't barf. [Laughs] And I was feeling pretty good and it was the first time I had ever seen David Bowie in real life. [....] It was as if we were the only two people in that room in the world; no one else existed...I went to him right away. It was a beeline, like a shot, bang. And we never stopped talking until we left.

And like Alomar, Rodgers and Bowie shared a passion for jazz and a curiosity for everything.  Rodgers recalled:

We were just glued together by our love of jazz. I know it sounds weird, because everyone knows him as a big pop star, but it was his dedication to jazz and the depth of his knowledge [that drew me to him]. It was as if we were the only two people in that room in the world; no one else existed. 

Not only that, but Bowie's love for rock 'n' roll and Americana was a clear asset to him in working with Rodgers on the album.  Bowie constantly cited Little Richard as his favourite artist - the one who inspired him to get into rock music.  At the age of nine, his dream was to become a saxophone player in his band.  [x] And his love and respect for original rock 'n' roll music - "black music" - showed in the influences which inspired the album.  Rodgers remembered how prior to recording the album:

David and I did something that I've never done before or since. We walked around New York and visited famous museums and libraries; either people who had great vinyl collections, or we actually went to the New York Public Library and listened to all different types of jazz. It was all types of music that wasn't readily available in the stores, because we just wanted to hear and be influenced by the stuff. We were looking up content just to figure out what would be the inspiration of this new thing that he was looking for. 

[....] When David finally realized what the record should sound like, he came to my apartment one day and he had a picture of Little Richard in a red suit getting into a red Cadillac. And he said to me, "Nile, darling, the record should sound like this!" And he showed me the picture. And I knew exactly — think of how crazy this was — I knew exactly what he meant. He didn't mean he wanted his record to sound like a Little Richard record. He said, "This visual thing is what we want to achieve aurally in every sense of the word." Even though the picture was obviously from the Fifties or the early Sixties, it looked modern. The Cadillac looked like a spaceship, and Little Richard was in this monochromatic outfit which then later on became David Bowie in the yellow monochromatic outfit with the yellow hair. 

[....] When he showed me that picture, I knew that he wanted the record to sound modern and timeless and be rock & roll-based. And what he called rock & roll was the original definition of rock & roll, was race music, was black music; it was that music that was taboo. It was music that the people liked, but the critics would say, "Eh. What is this colored music?" I got all of that in that one photograph. [x]

Rodgers also reported having a similar experience to Alomar of working in the studio with Bowie.  The rock star trusted Rodgers, and as such mainly left it up to him to excite and surprise Bowie's own expectations.

As Rodgers described the process of making the album, "The whole album was completed and mixed in 17 days....A huge amount of the time he spent sitting in the lounge watching TV and then he would just come in and check and go 'Wow!' and then he would leave. And I’m thinking to myself, 'This is the highest form of respect that anyone has ever given to me.'" He elaborated:

He was compelled to do things that he felt were just the right thing to do. He didn't think about whether we would like it or not. He just thought that it was something that he felt like he had to do. But the fact that he accepted it so readily shows you that, how could we have gotten through that record that fast had we not been on the same wavelength? 

In the studio, you would see David lying on the sofa saying, "Nile, go to it." [Laughs] Because most of the songs on Let's Dance had already existed. So he knew what the songs were, he wanted to be surprised. He wasn't breathing down my neck, telling me, "Change this, change that." He wanted to walk in and see what magic had taken place. So, for most of the album, he wasn't in the room with me. He was in another room and then he would come in and I actually like that approach. [x]

Clearly Bowie intimately trusted the talent he amassed, and more than that he welcomed their contributions as people with different backgrounds from his own.  As Rodgers said in a retrospective article in the Guardian:

At the start of the project David had said to me: “Nile, I want you to do what you do best – make hits.” I was a little offended by that, although I got over it. I was also a little perplexed, because the songs didn’t sound like hits to me!

[....] But then I thought about my songs and how they all start with the hook, because in the black world we don’t have many stations or chances to get a hit, you have to feed people dessert before the main course. So I said – let’s put the hooks at the beginning. Let’s have the first words out of your mouth to be “Let’s dance!” He fought it for a little while and then he understood why. Years later, at an awards ceremony, he was presenting me a prize and he said: “Ladies and gentlemen, I am honoured to give this to Nile Rodgers, the only man on earth who could get me to start a song with the chorus!”

As to Bowie's open-minded and welcoming attitude with working with people from other races, particularly black artists, Rodgers was particularly candid.  In a Pitchfork article he mentioned his autobiography where he also praised Bowie's progressive attitude regarding race.  He stated:

As a black man in America, there’s not a day that goes by that I’m not reminded of being black. It has nothing to do with me. Some people are just uncomfortable with my presence. It’s never gone away. With Bowie, though, I never felt that at all. He made Let’s Dance with me and guys that he never even met, but he had enough faith to allow me to completely take over. He was like, "Nile, take my vision and make it real. You be the empresario." 

[....] We made that record the same way we did black records: Cut a song, move on to the next one. That’s seeing culture through someone else’s artistic eyes and also seeing the way they live and not even thinking about it. Because black artists’ budgets were different than rock’n’roll guys’ budgets. I made Bowie’s album the same way I make Chic albums. When I explain how that session went down, people think I’m being braggadocious, but I’m like, "No, it’s exactly the opposite." It was all about Bowie having such confidence in us.

And in another interview he recalled how surprise Bowie was at the backlash he received from choosing to work with Rodgers on Let's Dance:

When David and I began working together, not only did the people on paper not think it would work, he caught a lot of flack from his friends and inner circle and didn't mind sharing it with me. He would actually be perplexed at how shocked they were, because to him, Bowie just thought of people as people. So he couldn't believe it when people would say, "Oh man, you're working with that disco dude," and probably there were other kinds of, "You're working with that black disco dude." Meaning if it were a white disco dude, it might be more okay.  He had already worked with Giorgio Moroder on "Cat People" and that didn't seem to make people upset. But working with me seemed to leave a bad taste in a lot of people's mouths, and that was difficult for me.

Consequently, it's clear that Bowie understood the importance of representation both behind and in the music.  Again, he went straight to the source of "Original Rock 'n 'Roll" culture - Americana and black culture - when he decided to work with Nile Rodgers.  His collaborations with and support of black artists continued long past Let's Dance.  In 1993 he and Rodgers would reunite again to make Bowie's first album as a solo artist since 1987 - Black Tie White Noise.  The album was a mix of a political statement about racial reconciliation (the 1990s LA Riots were a major influence) and a celebration of his marriage to the Somali-born supermodel Iman. [x]

Bowie's excellent use of white privilege, however, didn't stop with respecting and trusting Rodgers' talent as a producer, choosing to work with him despite criticism from others, and making sure to recognize his significant contributions to what would be the album that brought his name into the "Main Stream".

In a 1983 interview with MTv, Bowie was quite vocal about the importance of representation for black artists.  He understood the importance of inclusion and representation long before it became a trending hashtag on social media.  The full interview (which is worth reading/watching) is transcribed below:

Bowie: It occurred to me, having watched MTV over the last few months, that’s it’s a solid enterprise, really. It’s got a lot going for it. I’m just floored by the fact that there are so few black artists featured on it. Why is that?
Goodman: I think we’re trying to move in that direction. We want to play artists that seem to be doing music that fits into what we want to play for MTV. The company is thinking in terms of narrow-casting.
Bowie: That’s evident. It’s evident in the fact that the only few black artists that one does see are on about 2:30 in the morning to around 6. Very few are featured predominantly during the day.
Goodman: No, that’s a …
Bowie: I’ll say that over the last couple of weeks, these things have been changing, but it’s a slow process.
Goodman: It’s funny, I think people have different perceptions. When you wind up watching -- let’s say you watch an hour or two or even three a day, people somehow come away with different ideas about what we are doing. We don’t have any kind of day-parting for anything, let alone for black artists, day-parted out of what would be “prime time.” We don’t have that.
Bowie: Because one sees a lot on -- there’s one black station on television that I keep picking up. I’m not sure which station it’s on. But there seem to be a lot of black artists making very good videos that I’m surprised aren’t used on MTV.
Goodman: Of course, also, we have to try and do what we think not only New York and Los Angles will appreciate, but also Poughkeepsie or Midwest -- pick some town in the Midwest -- that would be scared to death by Prince, which we’re playing, or a string of other black faces and black music.
Bowie: That’s very interesting. Isn’t that interesting?
Goodman: We have to play the music that we think an entire country is going to like. And certainly we are a rock ‘n’ roll station. Now, the question would be asked, should, since we’re in New York, should [W]PLJ play, you know, the Isley Brothers. Well, you and I might say, well, yeah, because we’ve grown up in an era when the Isley Brothers mean something to me. And so do the Spinners way after the Isley Brothers. But what does it mean to a 17-year-old? Well, when you talk on the phone to these guys like I did when I was in radio, it’s scary.
Bowie: Well, I tell you what it means. I tell you what maybe the Isley Brothers or Marvin Gaye means to a black 17-year-old. Surely he’s part of America as well.
Goodman: Ah, no question. No question. That’s why you’re seeing those things …
Bowie: Do you not find that it’s a frightening predicament to be in?
Goodman: Yeah, but less so here than in radio.
Bowie: And is it not, well, dare say, “It’s not me, it’s them.” Is it not possible that it should be a conviction of the station and of other radio stations to be fair? It does seem to be rampant through American media. Should it not be a challenge to try to make the media far more integrated in …
Goodman: I think it’s happening.
Bowie: … especially, if anything, in musical terms?
Goodman: Absolutely, I think it’s happening because white music and white musicians are now starting to play now more than ever -- more than they have lately, let’s say in the last 10 years -- what black artists have been into. And now, hopefully, the lines are going to start to blur. And when we play a band like ABC, well, there’s white and black kids who are enjoying it. And all of a sudden, well, it’s a little bit easier for a white kid to understand it. The fact is -- quite frankly, I could even point you towards a letter in the new issue of the Record -- the magazine, the Record -- responding to an article by Dave Marsh, that this kid just ranted about what he didn’t want to see on MTV ...
Bowie: [Speaking over Goodman] Well that’s his problem.
Goodman: ... and in no uncertain terms. Well, what I’m saying, though, is that there’s, as you say, there certainly are a lot of black kids and white kids who may want to see black music, but there’s a ton of them who are -- it’s not like it was in ’67 where you say, “Yeah, I’m not into that, but you are? Yeah?” Now it’s, “You’re into that? I don’t like YOU.” And that’s scary, and we can’t just turn around and go, “Well, look, this is the right way!” We can only teach, I think, a little bit at a time.
Bowie: Interesting. OK, thank you very much.
Goodman: Does that make sense? Is it a valid point?
Bowie: [Smiling]: I understand your point of view. [Laughs] (transcribed by the LA Times)

It's clear that Bowie understood the power and privilege he had of being a successful artist.  He chose to use an interview on a popular televised network to call out a fellow person with white privilege in media.  And he did it with his usual charm and grace (if not a little condescension) directed at the interviewer who was clearly out of his depth.  Thus, he understood how to use his own opportunities to speak up for fair representation of all talent rather than just promoting his latest music video - although if he did so, he would still be able to talk about racism and inequality.

Still from Bowie's music video for "Let's Dance"

The music video for the eponymous lead single from Let's Dance (1983) could have had any concept related to "having a good time" be the inspiration behind the film.  Instead, Bowie decided to highlight racism against the Aboriginal community in Australia.  A Rolling Stone article from 1983 wrote:

But, like America, Australia had an ugly racial secret: the policies adopted toward the native Aborigines by the European settlers who began arriving on the continent in the late eighteenth century –– many of them convicts and their keepers –– could most gently be described as genocidal. On what is now the island state of Tasmania, Bowie learned, the indigenous Aboriginal population had been utterly extinguished. 

"As much as I love this country," [Bowie] says, "it's probably one of the most racially intolerant in the world, well in line with South Africa. I mean, in the north, there's unbelievable intolerance. The Aborigines can't even buy their drinks in the same bars –– they have to go round the back and get them through what's called a 'dog hatch.' And then they're forbidden from drinking them on the same side of the street as the bar; they have to go to the other side of the road." 

So Australia was ideal for what Bowie now had in mind. "It occurred to me that one doesn't have much time on the planet, you know? And that I could do something more useful in terms of....I know this is very cliché, but I feel that now that I'm thirty-six years old, and I've got a certain position, I want to start utilizing that position to the benefit of my...brotherhood and sisterhood." He winces, but continues. "I've found it's very easy to be successful in other terms, but I think you can't keep on being an artist without actually saying anything more than, 'Well, this is an interesting way of looking at things.' 

"There is also a right way of looking at things: there's a lot of injustice. So let's, you know, say something about it. However naff it comes off." 

In February, Bowie brought David Mallet, the London-based director with whom he collaborates, to Switzerland to help work up storyboards for the two videos he wanted to do: "Let's Dance," the title track from his new album, and another song on the LP called "China Girl" (which Bowie had written with his friend Iggy Pop in 1977, and which had previously appeared on Pop's album The Idiot). In less than a week, they were in Sydney with an English producer and cameraman, and an Australian crew numbering about a dozen people. Bowie had also secured the services of two students from Sydney's Aboriginal-Islanders Dance Theatre and a young Chinese woman from New Zealand named Geeling, and soon had them racing all over town. [....] Aside from Bowie and Mallet, no one could figure out what the hell was going on. 

Both videos, of course, were about racism and oppression. "Very simple, very direct," Bowie explained one afternoon. "They're almost like Russian social realism, very naive. And the message that they have is very simple –– it's wrong to be racist!" He can't help laughing at the sentiment so baldly stated. "But I see no reason to fuck about with that message, you see? I thought, 'Let's try to use the video format as a platform for some kind of social observation, and not just waste it on trotting out and trying to enhance the public image of the singer involved. I mean, these are little movies, and some movies can have a point, so why not try to make some point. This stuff goes out all over the world; it's played on all kinds of programs. I mean – you get free point time!"

Once again Bowie exemplifies the correct use of white privilege in media.  He uses his own position as a successful white artist to hold other Caucasian members of the media industry accountable for their actions regarding under-representation.  He also embraces innovation and creativity from his collaborators, who are welcome to bring their own unique perspective and cultures into their work which strengthens the art as a whole.  And he makes sure to use his own platform as a performer and his artistic mediums like music and video to help combat racism and showcase racial problems to others.

Bowie performing on the Serious Moonlight Tour (1983) with guitarists Carmine Rojas (r) and Carlos Alomar (l)

In conclusion, what can Bowie can teach people about how to properly use their white privilege?

Firstly, use your ability to court studio, corporate, media, executive, etc. attention and respect to help promote the work of others that are unable to access the people "in charge".  By this, I am referring to the fact that it is tough to get executives to invest in people of colour that are artists - and their work will often be shoved aside in favour of someone else's.  As a person with white privilege your work is automatically preferenced over another's, and you can use this to your advantage.  You can build a platform where audiences and studios alike listen to you and pay attention to what you say.  Instead of wasting the opportunity, be like Bowie and use it to combat racism by showcasing examples that are over-looked and supporting other artists.  And don't be afraid to hold your peers accountable who stop you from doing so.

Secondly, to be curious and be informed.  And I'm not just talking about being educated in political, racial, and religious matters both at home and abroad.  If you're making any type of content in the media/art world, it's a good thing to take inspirations from the things, places, people, art, and cultures that you're interested in.  The best possible thing you can do for your art (and for yourself) is to be curious about the world around you and learn more about "foreign" traditions, narratives, art, and cultures that are different from yours.  However, if you're going to incorporate these excellent influences into your own work, be sure to go straight to the source of your inspiration.  If you want to try to write a song in the style of "soul music", it would behove you to go straight to the creators of the original material to ask them how they did it.  If you want to incorporate Japanese fashion into your wardrobe, go directly to Japanese websites for tips and tricks.  Be curious about the world and become more informed about the topics you're interested in straight from the "experts" of said content/culture/art/etc.

Finally, understand that there's appropriation and there's collaboration.  Appropriation, to me, means stealing the content of another culture/people foreign to your own and using elements of said culture/people disrespectfully.  By "disrespectfully" I refer to not giving credit where credit is due, refusing to learn, communicate, and/or work with people from the culture you took said elements from, and not being thoroughly informed about the proper use of said elements.  Collaboration is the opposite of this.  Collaboration means that from the outset you are well-informed about the foreign culture/people to your own, that you have a willingness to learn, communicate, and work with people from said culture, and that you give credit where credit is due.  Then, collaboration occurs when elements from multiple cultures and people come together in synthesis to make something new and unique that the individual components would never have been able to accomplish on their own.

Bowie understood that collaboration with others and using white privilege to help gain more diverse representation in media/art was never a bad thing.   In all of the aforementioned examples, Bowie clearly collaborated with people from all over the world - Latino, African American, Aboriginal, and Asian - because by all accounts he was well-informed about the culture/people he was drawing from, he was never shy about where he drew his outside influences from, and he had a willingness to learn, communicate, and work with other people.  Not only that, but he formed real, meaningful friendships and relationships with the people he worked with.  And what did he get in return? Many works of art that became a synthesis of cultures into a maelstrom of success - a first number one hit, changing rock 'n' roll history, and solidifying his place as a commercial and critical success.

Thus, if you are an artist in the media who has white privilege - a platform on which to stand and an audience which to speak - please, do yourself a favour.  Take a leaf out of David Bowie's handbook.  The best works of art (critically, commercially, artistically) occur when all people are represented and included in order to create a complex, rich, layered narrative that in turn can introduce more people into the fold.  So be excited about other cultures and be curious.  Don't be afraid to take chances, work with people different from yourself, and embrace change.  As Rodgers said of Bowie:

He saw the world the way we see it, but then he saw it from another twisted perspective. [....] He saw the world as a very valuable place. He would get all this inspiration from just things that were around him...and the next thing you know, he's injecting this thing from real-life experience, into an album...And just says, "Let's see what happens."[x]