June brings pride parades, which brings out drag queens in
bright sunlight.
I don't envy anyone wearing pancake makeup, a wig, heels and
pantyhose in 90-degree weather. I particularly don't envy drag
queens, who-like other gender non-conformists in our society-suffer
more than their share of unfair criticism.
A reader named Clyde writes, "I think drag is comparable to
blackface minstrelsy. Whether it's men performing as women, or
whites performing in blackface, caricaturing and making fun of
groups of people perpetuates stereotypes."
There are at least two critical claims here. One is that drag
caricatures-and thus makes fun of-groups of people, and the other
is that drag perpetuates stereotypes. Let's consider each in
turn.
While it's possible for a drag performance to make fun of women,
misogyny is not essential to, or even typical of, drag. True, drag
often involves exaggerated personas, but the point doesn't seem to
be to mock women, but rather to revel in a particular kind of
feminine glamour. For that reason, the analogy to minstrelsy falls
short.
But what about the "bitchy" personalities adopted by some drag
queens? Again, intentions and context matter. If the point is
cruelty, then it's wrong. But mockery, and even bitchiness, can
have its place in entertainment. Unless one objects to Joan
Rivers-type humor altogether, it's difficult to make the case for
objecting to it in drag performances.
The other part of Clyde's objection is related: it's that drag
perpetuates stereotypes. There are multiple potential stereotypes
at work here: that gay men are effeminate, that gay men want to be
women, that gay men are bitchy, that gay men are excessively
concerned about their appearance, that women are bitchy, that women
are excessively concerned about their appearance, or that gay and
transgender are the same thing.
A stereotype is an overgeneralization about a group. It may be
negative, but it needn't be (consider "All Asians are good at
math.")
I don't doubt that drag contributes to stereotypes. But I don't
think the appropriate response to the problem is to reject drag
queens. They're not responsible for others' ignorance, and in
particular, for others' tendency to generalize from a sample of
drag queens to most gay men (or most women).
Certainly, it's important to portray our community-indeed, our
overlapping communities-accurately and fairly. And historically,
the majority of media images portraying the GLBT community have
focused on an unrepresentative minority of that community.
As someone who came out in the late 1980's, growing up in a
rather straitlaced suburb, I'm especially sensitive to that
problem. At the time, there were few if any images of the GLBT
community that I could relate to, and so I convinced myself that I
wasn't one of "them."
But the way to combat this distortion is not to silence the
divas among us. The way to combat it is for the rest of us "plain"
homosexuals to make our presence known.
As for drag queens: if someone wants to don a sequined gown and
lip-synch to "Over the Rainbow," far be it from me to stand in her
way. (I use the feminine pronoun deliberately.) If other people
think that her behavior says something about me or about gays in
general, it's my job (not hers) to correct them. And I will correct
those people, not because there's something wrong with the drag
queen, but because she's who she is and I'm who I am. She speaks
for herself, and I for myself.
If I were a drag queen, I might break into a La Cage aux Folles
number right now. Instead, I want to conclude on a note of
gratitude-to a particular drag queen whose name I've long
forgotten.
I was quite young when I ventured into my first gay bar. I was
clearly out of my element. Noticing my nervousness as I stood alone
against the wall, a drag queen approached me. "How old are you,
honey?"
"Nineteen," I replied sheepishly.
"Honey, there are hairpieces in this bar that are older than
that!" she quipped back.
She made me laugh, and so I began to relax. Then she introduced
me to several other patrons-including other young nervous preppy
boys like me. I'm sure she realized I could relate to them more
easily than to her. It was a simple act of kindness, and I recall
it warmly.
Ironically, it was a drag diva who helped this "plain"
homosexual find his voice. Wherever you are, thanks.