This marks the 20th year that Madonna has been making music — and the people come together. Unlike the naysayers and “True Blue” fans, I’ve been there from the get-go, seeing her through the good, the bad and Swept Away. Her discography reads like a time capsule of a woman coming into her own — her songs having provided the soundtrack to my gay life over the years.

For instance, I can remember listening to “Like A Virgin” when I myself had yet to be “touched for the very first time.” Madonna posters adorned my bedroom walls as a teen, providing a semi-camouflage; futilely proclaiming “he’s not gay.” However, those who caught my rendition of “Holiday,” usually belted out while speeding down the street on my cherry-apple red Honda Elite, would probably beg to differ. Now, many a “Beautiful Stranger” later, I realized just how much I’ve learned from Mo (as I call her), and how much more there still is to learn.

From her self-titled debut album, blasphemously proclaiming — sans Ciccone — that she was the only Madonna worth remembering, to American Life, with its deconstruction of preconceived notions about fame, there doesn’t seem to be any indication that Madonna will fade away into the woodwork.

Yet, the question was raised in a recent New York Times article —‘Is Madonna still commercially relevant?’ How about, ‘Is she still a strong woman, not afraid to speak her mind?’ Well, let’s look into that.

Madonna’s early hits were indicative of the 1980s — frothy and danceable, with just enough underlying sluttiness to lure in teen-aged girls and those who are, in essence, teen-aged girls at heart — gay men. When she encouraged everyone to “dance and sing, get up and do your thing,” she was truly singing to “Everybody.”

Critics and detractors alike were certain her 15 minutes were ticking away, yet 45 Top 40 hits later, we are still talking about Madonna, and she is still front and center.

Fast-forward to 2003, and you can hear for yourself how she has grown from a Material Girl into an artist mellowing like a fine wine. Perhaps it can be attributed to motherhood or marriage. Or maybe Madonna has discovered the inner peace she’s been chronicling musically since Ray of Light. On American Life, the trappings of fame and the faux security they often bring are masterfully woven into tracks like Nothing Fails and X-static Process. But Mo’s not complaining about having a lawyer, a manager, an agent and a chef, etc. These charges have been leveled against her, which makes me wonder: Have the people deriding her after hearing the new CD really listened to it?

What Madonna is trying to show the world at large — clearly illustrated on American Life — is that money cannot fix a broken person. She is shattering myths about what it’s like to be one of the most famous and wealthy women in the world. By digging deep into her soul she attempts to unearth and conquer public perceptions she herself helped to create over the past two decades. Far from complaining, she is trying to enlighten.

Though the transformation was subtle, Madonna has become the antithesis of what people expected her to be, a pop tart boy toy expected to fizzle out in a nanosecond, like so many before and after her. Would the world still be enthralled by her every move if she were still cranking out tunes like “Dress you up?” Probably not. But, isn’t that part of the allure, the beloved element of surprise inherent in Madonna? Though her makeovers have at times overshadowed her message, today’s Madonna feels stripped down, exposed and more naked than even the images in her infamous Sex book. She is exposing her own human frailty before our very eyes — now that’s entertainment!

Being in the public eye for two decades, having your every triumph and misstep detailed for all the world to see would be taxing for anybody. But this is Madonna we’re talking about. She’s weathered more than her share of bad press, an on-again/off-again film career, matching record sales with an army of Britneys she herself inspired — all the while saying what she feels, and feeling what she says. She is a survivor, changing the way we think about society, fashion and culture. She still sells out stadiums, while most of her ’80s contemporaries are lucky to be playing at The Fair (see page 48). Pushing people’s buttons for shock value seems to have subsided as Madonna has grown older and wiser, but her message is still loud and clear.

Madonna makes sense as a relevant gay icon as well. She’s outspoken, provocative and has always worked to blur the lines around sexuality otherwise constrained to a four-sided box. In our boxed-in haven of gaiety, where it’s how you look, who you know, what gym you go to, what car you drive and where you live that seemingly make you a person of quality, I think now more than ever that Madonna can help us “get into the groove,” dancing for inspiration and the realization that it’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Throughout the years, Madonna has shown us that there is a multi-faceted, real person beneath the icon, who is by no means ready to throw in the towel.