Originally appeared July 23, 2003, in the Chicago Free Press.
Some people have a problem with Bravo's new television show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy."
Some commentators think that it only pushes the gay community back into stereotype - that it's labeling gay men as fluffy and shallow, interested only in surface and not in substance.
I can see why they're worried. But I saw the first two episodes during the show's premiere last week. And I loved them.
In fact, I think "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" might be one of the best shows for our community in a long time.
In "Queer Eye," the five gay experts make over a skanky straight guy into someone of whom women will approve. Every week there is a mission: in the first episode, it was preparing the aptly nicknamed Butch for his first art opening. In the second, it was throwing a birthday party for Adam's neglected wife.
The gay team works together. Kyan Douglas is the "grooming guru." Ted Allen (a former senior editor for Chicago magazine who is now a contributing editor to Esquire) is in charge of refining a guy's sense of food and wine and helping him learn to make appetizers. Carson Kressley is the flaming fashionista. Jai Rodriguez is the culture cutie, who also teaches the finer points of socializing. And Thom Filicia makes a straight guy's pad look like it was designed by‹well, a gay guy.
At the start of each episode, the "Fab Five" scream up in their black SUV. They explode into the straight guy's home, making catty (and very funny) comments about everything from the guy's decorating style to his facial hair (Adam had a monobrow) to his underwear. That part's pretty intimidating.
But then, an amazing thing happens. The straight guy bonds with the gay guys. And we watch it happen. By the end, there's often a round of hugging. At the end of the second episode, straight guy Adam looks around his newly done house with tears in his eyes. He fingers his beautiful new suit. "My house is your house," he says mistily.
And the audience is not surprised at this, because except for the initial rampage, the five experts are startlingly kind and insightful.
They don't throw out Adam's beloved hockey jerseys, though they get rid of nearly everything else in his closet. They don't make Butch wear anything too fashionable or feminine. In short, they're not trying to make the straight guys over into gay guys - they're just trying to help the straight guys understand that it's all right to want to look attractive and live in a nice home.
The subtext seems to be that taking care of oneself and one's surroundings doesn't make a man less masculine. It doesn't make him more - well, gay. It just makes him more happily himself.
As Carson says cheerfully to Butch, "We're not trying to change you - we're trying to make you better."
And they do this first by making style decisions that fit the straight guinea pig's personality and then by cheering him on as he hesitantly makes changes. They shower him with the kind of warm approval straight men rarely get from other men, telling him how great he's doing and how handsome he looks.
Everyone should have such supportive fairy godmothers. But there's another factor that makes the show a success for our community.
The straight men are well screened (or the show is well edited) and so the straight men come across as very, very comfortable with the gay men.
This is vital, because these five men are not the straight-acting, straight appearing kind of gay men. They are not assimilated. They are GAY, honey. Carson in particular is over the top. He jokes about getting into Butch's underwear. He jokes about helping out in the shower. He offers to unbutton Butch's pants to help tuck in his shirt.
In other words, he's hitting on them, which is what straight men seem to fear most about gay guys.
But instead of punching him in response, the straight men play it cool. They joke back or turn the comment aside or ignore it. In other words, they act mature about it. And by doing this, they broadcast the clear message that being hit on by a gay man is OK. It's not the precursor to violence. It's just flattering conversation.
And those are the moments that might help turn the culture around for us. Because straight men aren't afraid of gay men who look and act like them - they think of those kinds of gay men as exceptions. They're afraid of the gay men who are gaily gay, the kind who strut their stuff in Pride Parades, who haunt dark bars and public bathrooms, and who swish around on TV.
So Bravo is doing us all a public service. Because by giving us weekly examples of the differences between gay men and straight men - and by making gay men seem not only unthreatening but downright helpful - Bravo is showing America that we really all can get along.