The Voice of GenX

“We Were the Voice in the Darkness Gen X – Ozzy Helped Us Find It”

by TonyaLe

There are moments in life that mark the end of an era. Today, laying Ozzy Osbourne to rest feels like one of those moments.

For many of us (proud Gen Xers) Ozzy wasn’t just a rock icon. He was the voice. The one that echoed and blared from our car stereos, and shook the walls of our teenage bedrooms while we raged, dreamed, and tried to figure out who the hell we were in a world that didn’t always care to ask. For some kids like me, we were called the throw away kids.

I was just a teenager then. A barefoot wild girl drifting through Tulsa, Oklahoma back when Tulsa was still small and Eastside was its own little world. We called ourselves the Eastsiders. We were a tight, loyal crew of kids who skated hard on Friday nights, smoked under streetlights, snuck beers, showed off muscle cars, swam at the Blue Whale, and lost entire weekends at the Quarterhorse Arcade. If you could beat me at Galaga, you earned your bragging rights. But good luck I didn’t give up that top spot easily.

Most didn’t know I was homeless back then. I floated from place to place, but I always had my music. Shuffle skating was my freedom I was lightning-fast, gliding through the chaos with Ozzy in my ears and fire in my spirit.

Back then, the soundtrack of our lives was pure rebellion, discovery, and electricity. We weren’t just listening to music we were the music. It lived in us. Rock and roll had evolved into something gritty, raw, and real. Bands like Metallica, Def Leppard, AC/DC, Guns N’ Roses, Van Halen, and Mötley Crüe shook our hearts. And there were so many more to many to name. But through all the noise, all the amps, and all the stages Ozzy was always #1.

He wasn’t just a rock star. He was a force. The Prince of Darkness, sure but not in the way our parents feared. They thought it meant devil worship. But we knew the truth. Ozzy didn’t lead us into the dark he gave us a voice inside it. To help us move out of the darkness.

We were the forgotten generation. The latchkey kids. The survivors of broken homes and TV dinners. We weren’t coddled or handheld we were thrown into life and told to swim. And Ozzy’s music? It screamed the things we couldn’t say. The rage. The pain. The beauty. The madness. He spoke for us, to us, and with us loud and unapologetic.

Some of us fell in love during those years. Some had quick, aching crushes that disappeared with the school year. But others oh, some still linger in our hearts. And when we see their faces scroll across our social media feeds now, even decades later, our hearts skip. They still look like magic to us.

But back then? We were social media. There were no timelines, no likes, no filters. Our lives were the feed playing out in real time. Every skate night, every concert, every late-night drag race was a status update written in sweat, beer, smoke, and song. We lived in the moment, and music was the only language that mattered.

Concerts were $10, maybe $15 if it was a big name. And if you didn’t have the money? You snuck in. No one judged you. That’s just how it was. We did what we had to, because missing that show meant missing a piece of your youth. And when Ozzy came to town? You found a way. Not to even mention all the Oz Feast shows!

Even now, with families, careers, kids, and grandkids… with some of us married, some still wandering, and some like me widowed far too young… Ozzy’s voice still takes us back. It hits that part of the soul where time doesn’t exist, and you’re suddenly seventeen again with eyeliner smudged and a cigarette tucked behind your ear, screaming lyrics into the night sky.

Ozzy was that bridge. That eternal time machine. That anchor in the middle of our storms.

He gave everything to us the chaos, the truth, the demons, the honesty. And in doing so, he gave our generation a gift we’ll never forget.

And to his family especially Sharon thank you. Thank you for letting us in.

You could have guarded your family’s story behind closed doors, hidden the chaos, the healing, the hard moments… but instead, you stood in the fire with grace and grit. You allowed the world to see not just the myth, but the man. And in doing that, you gave us all something sacred.

Sharon, as a mother, a wife, and a woman you showed us what strength really looks like. You were a mother to so many of us and you never knew!

You held the line when the world shook. You protected your children while honoring your husband. You gave space for the raw and real, and still found a way to lead with loyalty, class, and an unshakable backbone. In an industry that can devour families, you kept yours close and even when things broke, you faced it all with honesty and fire.

You didn’t just manage a legend and you loved him.

You stood beside him through every high and every fall.

You gave us the gift of seeing a complicated, beautiful, chaotic love the kind most people never even witness, let alone endure.

You reminded every woman watching that it's okay to be soft and strong, heartbroken and hopeful, fierce and forgiving all at once.

From one woman to another… thank you. For the sacrifices we saw, and the ones we didn’t. For loving Ozzy in a way that kept him alive in our hearts even longer. For raising a family that became an open book, so we could all feel a little more normal in our own dysfunction. You didn't owe us that, but you gave it anyway.

Today, we honor Ozzy. But we see you too. And we send you our love.

As we say goodbye now, it’s not just to a man or a musician. It’s to a sacred time in our lives a time we’ll never get back, but one we’ll always carry.

Rest easy, Ozzy.

You gave a voice to a generation that was told to be quiet.

And we will never stop singing your songs.

Thank You

Gen X Kids

Be Blessed Beautiful Souls

The Unique TonyaLe

©️2025TonyaLe