tag:theconversation.com,2011:/uk/topics/queer-culture-8318/articles
Queer culture – The Conversation
2023-12-28T09:13:36Z
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/210214
2023-12-28T09:13:36Z
2023-12-28T09:13:36Z
They’re serving what?! How the c-word went from camp to internet mainstream
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/565289/original/file-20231212-25-1vks8n.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=463%2C53%2C1379%2C931&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Beyoncé uses the c-word in staging for her 2023 Renaissance tour, as well as in lyrics for the track Pure/Honey.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Beyoncé_-_Tottenham_Hotspur_Stadium_-_1st_June_2023_(25_of_118)_(52946287590).jpg">Raph_PH/Wiki Commons</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Warning: this article contains language that some readers may find offensive.</em></p>
<p>If someone told you that you were “serving cunt”, would you be offended? Despite the inclusion of the c-word, this phrase isn’t meant as an insult or a misogynistic slur. In fact, it is <a href="https://read.dukeupress.edu/american-speech/article/86/1/52/5899/Intersecting-Variables-and-Perceived-Sexual">quite the opposite</a> – at least, among those in <a href="https://anthrosource.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/jola.12218">queer communities</a> who have long used it.</p>
<p>The phrase describes someone displaying characteristics such as being confident, sassy or fierce. It’s a state of mind – a stance anyone can embody, regardless of gender.</p>
<p>And while the phrase is now part of the “internet vernacular” – to the point that it has achieved <a href="https://knowyourmeme.com/memes/serving-cunt">meme-level status</a> – its origins predate digital culture. The phrase has a long history in drag, and those immersed in queer culture will recognise qualities associated with this now ubiquitous phrase. </p>
<p>To be evaluated as fierce, sassy or even “sickening” (another counter-intuitive compliment) is an honour – or, in drag terminology, the ultimate “slay” (something done very well). Such qualities are epitomised in RuPaul’s now iconic phrase: “Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve and Talent” (C.U.N.T.). To snatch the crown, the queen must “serve” (display) these qualities throughout the competition.</p>
<p>Evidently, this is very different to the more conventional meaning of the c-word. Referring to the vulva or vagina, it is typically used as an offensive and vulgar term that reduces women to an object of sexual gratification. Frequently used as a misogynistic slur, it is <a href="https://www.oed.com/dictionary/cunt_n?tab=meaning_and_use#7755669">often labelled</a> as one of the most offensive words in the English language.</p>
<p>Arguably, the mainstreaming of this queer phrase represents could be seen as a turning point in the status of the c-word. Some social commentators have said it is a type of reclamation, whereby a term which is often weaponised against women has been appropriated, but used in deep respect as a form of protest and resistance. </p>
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<h2>Ball culture</h2>
<p>But people aren’t just “serving cunt”. They’re “slaying the house down boots” (doing something amazing). They’re “reading people to filth” (thoroughly insulting someone), or “throwing shade” (playfully insulting someone). </p>
<p>They’re also labelling popstars such as Rina Sawayama and Dua Lipa “mother” (a term of endearment and admiration). And they’re “leaving no crumbs” (doing something very well).</p>
<p>The diffusion – or appropriation – of these phrases is symptomatic of a more widespread trend, whereby the language typically associated with drag culture has become mainstream and is now considered part of what people often label the <a href="https://fanbytes.co.uk/tiktok-slang-guide/">internet vernacular</a>.</p>
<p>Another popstar, Beyoncé, made frequent use of the c-word in the lyrics to her 2022 song, Pure/Honey. It also featured in the staging of her 2023 Renaissance world tour, where she performed behind a news desk labelled “<a href="https://twitter.com/OrianaBeLike/status/1656414592476622848">KNTY 4 News</a>”. </p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_t4YuPXdLZw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Pose (2018) followed the lives of members of New York’s ‘ball’ community.</span></figcaption>
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<p>To understand this development, it’s important to recognise where much of the language associated with drag culture originates. Terms like “shade” and “slay”, and phrases like “read to filth”, are originally from <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/african-american-english/1AE59657F9CF1BBC3A2BF2B9BB29D1D0">African American Vernacular English</a> (AAVE) – <a href="https://www.hawaii.edu/satocenter/langnet/definitions/aave.html">a variety of English</a> spoken <a href="https://www.linguisticsociety.org/content/what-ebonics-african-american-english">by black Americans</a>, particularly those living in urban areas.</p>
<p>But how did the language of a minority ethnic group become associated with drag queens? The answer is “<a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/striking-a-pose-a-brief-history-of-ball-culture-629280/">ballroom</a>” or “ball culture” – an LGBTQ+ subculture formed by African American and Latino people in New York City in the late 20th century, where participants “walk” (compete) for trophies, prizes and fame at events known as balls. For the unacquainted, the 2018 drama <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/m0003g1h/pose">Pose</a> documented the ball culture in New York City in the 1980s.</p>
<p>As ball culture became more mainstream, so too did the language associated with this community – until it was associated with the LGBTQ+ community more generally. “Throwing shade”, “reading” and “spilling tea” (sharing gossip) were no longer confined to the ballroom</p>
<h2>Language and appropriation</h2>
<p>The diffusion of this language has led to intense debates about appropriation and authenticity. In 2019, I examined this issue with regard to <a href="https://scholar.google.co.uk/scholar?cluster=7995271392233630652&hl=en&as_sdt=2005&sciodt=0,5">linguistic variation on Twitter</a>. Analysing a corpus of gay British men’s tweets, I argued they used features of AAVE such as “work dat pole gurl” and “y’all mad at hunty” (a dialect that gay men wouldn’t typically be expected to speak) not so much to claim “blackness” but to present themselves as “sassy”. By stylistically using features of AAVE, the men evoked these tropes to perform a gay identity which I called the “sassy queen”.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="A man in a shirt squats to dance in front of a board of eager judges." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=451&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=451&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=451&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=567&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=567&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/539534/original/file-20230726-17-whozou.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=567&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">A ‘ball’ as shown in the 1990 documentary, Paris is Burning.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.alamy.com/paris-is-burning-1990-de-jennie-livingston-prod-db-art-matters-inc-bbc-television-miramax-new-york-foundation-for-the-arts-off-white-produc-image369577542.html?imageid=3DAF782F-0BF3-42BC-889A-FA78FE1254AD&p=728508&pn=1&searchId=6f58c7b396a91ca601880e0eaa055984&searchtype=0">TCD/Prod.DB / Alamy Stock Photo</a></span>
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<p>However, in my view, these practices are problematic because they rely on a racial imagining of the “sassy black woman” – a historical trope that reifies black women as vivacious, outspoken and lively. </p>
<p>Many users of the phrase “serving cunt” and other AAVE features also appear unaware of their history. For instance, in 2020, Brittany Broski (aka the internet-famous <a href="https://www.vox.com/the-goods/2020/8/25/21399317/brittany-broski-kombucha-tiktok-tomlinson">Kombucha Girl</a>) incorrectly described AAVE terms as “<a href="https://www.dictionary.com/browse/stan-culture">stan culture</a>” – referring to the behaviour of an extreme group of fans.</p>
<p>At the same time, a series of <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@leia/video/6908151153536568581">black TikTok creators</a> have rightly rejected claims of a “new TikTok or Gen Z language”, by arguing that many of the features said to comprise this “new” variety were in fact AAVE.</p>
<p>So, while anyone can, in principle, “serve cunt”, it’s important to acknowledge the long history of this phrase, and many others, in drag culture – and, before that, their origins in AAVE. </p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Christian Ilbury does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The language associated with drag culture has become mainstream and is now often considered part of the ‘internet vernacular’.
Christian Ilbury, Lecturer, Linguistics and English Language, The University of Edinburgh
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/211681
2023-08-18T04:32:05Z
2023-08-18T04:32:05Z
‘Wouldn’t want to be on any other team’: the queer joy of watching the Matildas at the ‘outest’ World Cup ever
<p>When we sat down with friends to watch the Matildas take on England, the two of us played it cool through the pre-match period, as if this was a game like any other. </p>
<p>There was the usual chatter while the mascots ushered our now familiar Matildas onto the field. But at half-time – three pizzas and a bottle of viognier in – we were a little subdued and trying to find distraction.</p>
<p>To mask our own anxiety, we found ourselves commenting on the tension observable in others: the stadium crowd oddly tamped down, the ashen face of Australia’s coach Tony Gustavsson. </p>
<p>We rose as one when Sam Kerr delivered her sensational goal in the 63rd minute, but not long after that the game was over. Our girls huddled down and then took the mandatory lap of honour, stunned and wide-eyed as if they, too, were unable to take in what had just gone down. </p>
<p>We are still coming to emotional terms with the 3-1 result. But the matches on the field weren’t the only World Cup story we were interested in. In our group chat and on social media, another game was taking place: queer DIY commentary on the <a href="https://www.autostraddle.com/2023-world-cup-gay-players/">outest World Cup ever played</a>.</p>
<p>In this virtually expanded world, the Matildas can never lose. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/connection-camaraderie-and-belonging-why-the-matildas-could-be-making-you-a-sports-fan-for-the-very-first-time-211526">Connection, camaraderie and belonging: why the Matildas could be making you a sports fan for the very first time</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Queer women talking</h2>
<p>While women have long been associated with gossip, the World Cup has given this <a href="https://aeon.co/ideas/gossip-was-a-powerful-tool-for-the-powerless-in-ancient-greece">ancient form</a> of political and psychological processing a queer twist. </p>
<p>Watching the games and talking about the Matildas is one thing, but the online alt-commentary on the game has been a joy – even for those with little prior relation to social media or, truth be told, sport.</p>
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<p>The barrier to entry is low: you can start with the group chat. Ours began organically with six fellow researchers of queer popular culture and media with varied attachments to football. </p>
<p>Our running commentary kept pace with the on-field action and included selfies at games and venues – but it chiefly focused on queer subtextual and para-athletic details such as height of knee socks, brow styling, headbands and ribbons.</p>
<p>Anyone still struggling with the outcome of Wednesday’s match might find solace, as we did, in learning about the children’s book that accompanies the <a href="https://www.who.com.au/hayley-raso-hair-ribbon">ribbon Hayley Raso was originally gifted by her grandmother</a> to match her jerseys. </p>
<p>That’s the kind of thing lady-amateurs process while the professional commentators beam in on the corporate media channels. They talk about the on-field action, while we tap into the expansive alternative universe of queer social media commentary.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/felt-alienated-by-the-mens-game-how-the-culture-of-womens-sport-has-driven-record-matildas-viewership-211524">‘Felt alienated by the men’s game’: how the culture of women’s sport has driven record Matildas viewership</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Learning the code</h2>
<p>Our chat has been wide-ranging and quizzical as some of us learn the new code.</p>
<p>It has shifted between pure sports commentary – fuelled by our Angel City FC expert, who has a side hustle as a <a href="https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/angels-international-a-2023-womens-world-cup-weekly-digest/id1697636848">queer sports podcaster</a> – and non-FIFA-approved content sourced from TikTok and Instagram as others like us caught on to the magic of the tournament. </p>
<p>We knew we weren’t alone when comedian <a href="https://twitter.com/Brocklesnitch/status/1689201301027229696?s=20">Bec Shaw asked why</a> other sports communities weren’t more like ours: up-to-date with game strategy and player performance histories, but also invested in the soapy off- and on-screen melodrama. </p>
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<p>The <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@penrithpanthers/video/7267896472358735122?_r=1&_t=8etnIBtIztx">Penrith Panthers</a> and a huge number of other mainstream clubs came online with their reactions. Under their club social media accounts, these teams demonstrated their unequivocal, unquestioned passion for elite sports performance outside of their own codes and genders. </p>
<p>In this respect, they were in line the rest of the world, fully under the spell of the <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/sports/2023/08/16/womens-world-cup-gay-players-lgbt/">Matildas’ version of queer authenticity</a>.</p>
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<p>As queer viewers, our emerging expertise was not limited to the play. </p>
<p>We began trawling through the <a href="https://wosochart.github.io/TheWosoChart/">now infamous “woso chart”</a> (“woso”, of course, short for women’s soccer), modelled on the <a href="https://the-l-word.fandom.com/wiki/The_Chart">relationship chart</a> from The L Word, which maps all the intimate relationships, breakups and rumours (aka replays and substitutions) between players. </p>
<p>But, like game plans, diagrams can’t capture the real life drama. For that you need to turn to <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@brooke22blm/video/7261540065082363144?_r=1&_t=8egIZGHyHv0">Brooke’s TikTok serial</a> where she lesbian-splains the intricacies of girl-on-girl attachments to a sweet young hipster who believes they are all just friends.</p>
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<p>One of the beautiful things about this World Cup has been the diverse engagements of fans around elite team sport and all its dimensions. </p>
<p>As comedian <a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo?fbid=696463095638285&set=a.160115612606372">Mel Buttle captured beautifully</a>, these virtual and actual conversations about women’s sport between friends, colleagues and strangers were unimaginable only a few years ago. </p>
<p>It has been queerly thrilling to be at the centre of this global shift – and to understand that all the feelings we have had along the way have been shared at scale with people we mistakenly think are not like us.</p>
<h2>Queer closing fixture</h2>
<p>There are not many moments in everyday life where you see euphoria and despair in such painfully close proximity, as we did on Wednesday night.</p>
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<p>As one of us said from the house in Tempe where we were babysitting a next-generation sports star while his two mums were making the <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/national/nsw/police-detain-two-men-after-railway-box-cut-causing-matildas-train-chaos-20230817-p5dx5r.html">overlong journey back from Homebush</a>, “It feels like <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2023/mar/03/partying-v-politics-has-sydney-worldpride-found-the-right-balance">World Pride</a> is over.” </p>
<p>But here’s the good news. It’s not. After the final whistle, the cameras find Kerr. She puts it straight into the top corner for queer Australia with her powerful proclamation, “Wouldn’t want to be on any other team”. </p>
<p>Nor would we. We can’t imagine this World Cup without our virtual team huddle.</p>
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<p>It’s not too late to join us. The third-place playoff will be the <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@chuckchuckcharlie/video/7266886505124171051?_r=1&_t=8etlY5A2p17">“gayest” FIFA final ever</a>. </p>
<p>Just pick up your devices and come find us in the virtual dugout, where <a href="https://www.tiktok.com/@3a_skating/video/7266528856264199426?_r=1&_t=8eto1JlBAQL">pop cultural crossovers</a> keep the Matildas effect forever in play. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>Thanks to our chat-buddies Cherine Fahd, Annamarie Jagose, Sarah Kessler, Alice Motion, Maddy Motion and Karen Tongson, who all play for <a href="https://www.sydney.edu.au/arts/our-research/centres-institutes-and-groups/sydney-social-sciences-and-humanities-advanced-research-centre.html">SSSHARC FC</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/211681/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Lee Wallace receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the NSW Department of Communities and Justice.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Victoria Rawlings receives funding from the Australian Research Council and the NSW Department of Communities and Justice. </span></em></p>
Like the rest of Australia, we have been following the world cup with growing emotional intensity. From the group chat to TikTok, the online alt-commentary on the game has been a joy.
Lee Wallace, Professor, Film Studies, University of Sydney
Victoria Rawlings, Senior Lecturer, University of Sydney School of Education and Social Work, University of Sydney
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/206233
2023-06-14T11:31:23Z
2023-06-14T11:31:23Z
A brief history of camp: from minority sensibility to political protest
<p>Early in the first episode of the BBC reality dating show <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m001m01c">I Kissed A Boy</a>, glamorous pop star Danni Minogue descends a staircase to greet the all-male line-up of contestants. “Probably not the right heels for this,” she admits.</p>
<p>“Don’t worry, I’ve got another pair if they’re no good,” quips one of the men, Ollie, who sports an impressive moustache and a deep voice. Although the men have never met before, they quickly bond, finding common ground in this kind of camp humour, which has been the defining feature of gay or queer male friendships for centuries.</p>
<p>Camp is notoriously difficult to define, as I explain in my new book, <a href="https://footnotepress.com/product/camp/">Camp! The Story of the Attitude That Conquered The World</a>. It can be an attitude, a style or a behaviour and it consists of several components – exaggeration, artificiality or theatricality, breaking social norms and silliness which results in humour. </p>
<p>If the effect is not intended to be funny, it is camp. If the effect is intentionally funny, then it is campy – a term more commonly used in the US than the UK.</p>
<p>Camp has not always been understood. During the <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p0d1y6xn">Dublin Scandal trial</a> in 1884, several prominent men were accused of engaging in indecent acts. <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Fanny_and_Stella.html?id=YU3wNAEACAAJ&redir_esc=y">A letter by a young man called Malcolm Johnston</a> was read out to the court as evidence, containing the phrase, “Such camp!” </p>
<p>When giving evidence against the accused, Johnston was required to explain that it meant “proper amusement or … improper amusement”. Camp made it into a dictionary in 1909, with the author sniffily noting it was “chiefly used by persons of exceptional want of character”.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="The outside of the Stonewall Inn bar with pride flags and red brick walls." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/527764/original/file-20230523-23-tst217.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">New York’s Stonewall Inn, site of the 1969 Stonewall Riots.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/new-york-city-august-24-2019-1490365643">Shutterstock</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the last half of the 20th century, camp was used <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Stonewall.html?id=NyXjsB94E0QC&redir_esc=y">as part of political protest</a>. In 1969 at the <a href="https://www.history.com/topics/gay-rights/the-stonewall-riots">riots over the raid of gay venue the Stonewall Inn</a> in New York, patrons faced off police by forming a kick-line, parodying the dancers at Radio City Music Hall, the Rockettes. </p>
<p>And in 1990s UK, to counter the <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/bbcthree/article/cacc0b40-c3a4-473b-86cc-11863c0b3f30">homophobic stance of the government</a>, which had passed a law called Section 28 that made it difficult for homosexuality to be talked about in schools, the group <a href="https://www.thesisters.org/">The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence</a> used <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-brief-history-of-polari-the-curious-after-life-of-the-dead-language-for-gay-men-72599">the camp language Polari</a> in ceremonies that canonised notable LGBTQ+ people.</p>
<h2>Camp controversy</h2>
<p>Historically, not everyone in the gay community approved of camp. In the 1970s, groups like the <a href="https://www.c-h-e.org.uk/">Campaign for Homosexual Equality</a> viewed camp comedian <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/media/2007/mar/09/guardianobituaries.artsobituaries">John Inman</a>, who played Mr Humphreys in the sitcom Are You Being Served, as a harmful stereotype and picketed him outside theatres.</p>
<p>But rather than being the end of camp, the campaign <a href="https://footnotepress.com/product/camp/">instigated a conversation</a> about lack of diversity in the media representation of gay men, something which would eventually be handled better in later decades.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1653017044843896832"}"></div></p>
<p>In the present day, with strides made in LGBTQ+ equality, camp has gone from being a minority sensibility to a thing so ubiquitous that current commentators like Andrew Bolton, costume curator at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, have described it as “<a href="https://www.vogue.com/article/costume-institute-2019-exhibition-camp-notes-on-fashion">everywhere</a>”. “<a href="https://www.vanityfair.com/style/photos/2019/05/met-gala-camp-on-theme">Camp: Notes on Fashion</a>” was the theme of the 2021 Met Gala, hosted by the museum.</p>
<p>The Eurovision Song Contest could qualify as <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-gay-world-cup-why-lgbtq-audiences-love-eurovision-205524">the camp Olympics</a>, while even the recent coronation of Charles III could be seen as a camp extravaganza, with MP <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/uk-news/2023/may/06/coronation-fashion-sprang-few-surprises-but-all-eyes-were-on-penny-mordaunt">Penny Mordaunt’s teal blue outfit with gold detail and matching cape and sword</a> receiving <a href="https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-12107761/Game-Thrones-cast-write-Penny-Mordaunt-praise-sword-carrying-role-Coronation.html">accoclades from the cast of Game of Thrones</a> and the speculation over Prince Harry’s attendance giving the event distinct vibes of 1980s nighttime soap opera.</p>
<h2>Protecting camp</h2>
<p>Even conservatives have got in on the act. Gay artist and filmmaker <a href="https://twitter.com/BruceLaBruce?ref_src=twsrc%5Egoogle%7Ctwcamp%5Eserp%7Ctwgr%5Eauthor">Bruce LaBruce</a> has <a href="http://www.natbrutarchive.com/essay-notes-on-campanti-camp-by-bruce-labruce.html">talked about</a> how Donald Trump has appropriated camp in his rallies, playing songs by The Village People and Dolly Parton. </p>
<p>LaBruce views camp as having been turned into a commodity for the masses, while journalist <a href="https://www.vox.com/culture/2019/5/3/18514408/what-is-camp-explained-met-gala-susan-sontag">Constance Grady warns that Trump turned camp’s playfulness into reckless cruelty.</a></p>
<p>But people have been proclaiming that camp is over for over a century. In 1920, <a href="https://eprints.bbk.ac.uk/id/eprint/47553/1/Dickon%20Edwards%20-%20PhD%20thesis%20final%20version%20.pdf">Variety magazine</a> reviewed an entertainment act writing: “The man during the talk leans a little too much to ‘camping’ for laughs. The day is past when that ‘nance’ stuff will get anything for anybody and it doesn’t belong.”</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ZfLRemF35hQ?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Joe Lycett’s interview with Laura Kuenssberg.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>British comedian Joe Lycett is one of the strongest arguments for camp’s current relevance to politics. Interviewed by journalist Laura Kuenssberg about a speech by Liz Truss, who was prime minister for a few weeks in 2022, Lycett dead-panned: “I’m actually very right wing. And I loved it. I thought she was very clear … You’re reassured, I’m reassured.” </p>
<p>The silliness of the statement, on a serious television show, made the statement camp – as were Lycett’s tweets to Truss around the same time, in which he referred to her as “babe”. </p>
<p>To draw attention to Qatar’s dismal record on LGBTQ+ rights during the 2023 World Cup, Lycett, wearing a sparkly shirt, offered David Beckham an ultimatum: end his professional relationship with the Qatar before the first match, or Lycett would shred £10,000.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/mEwJnodmCNQ?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
<figcaption><span class="caption">Joe Lycett shredding £10,000 in protest against David Beckham’s involvement with the Qatar World Cup.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>When Beckham did not respond, Lycett truly appeared to shred the money, wearing an enormous multi-coloured, frilled outfit. He later revealed that the shredding had been faked and he had donated the money to LGBT+ charities instead.</p>
<p>Lycett’s clever use of camp helps to draw attention to important issues while also making people laugh. There will always be a role for camp in uniting outsiders, enabling them to laugh at their oppressors and, when needed, kicking back.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/206233/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Paul Baker does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Camp can be an attitude, a style or a behaviour and it consists of several components – exaggeration, artificiality or theatricality, breaking social norms and silliness which results in humour.
Paul Baker, Professor of Linguistics and English Language, Lancaster University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/205600
2023-05-12T15:30:01Z
2023-05-12T15:30:01Z
Is Eurovision finally cool? That depends on your definition – ‘cool theory’ expert explains
<p>With an aesthetic dependent on novelty and spectacle, and a structure that’s both disjointed and drawn-out, Eurovision – for some – cannot fail to fail. In its “failed seriousness” (the phrase writer Susan Sontag <a href="https://www.artandobject.com/news/what-camp-met-tries-define-ineffable">used to describe “camp”</a>), the song contest has all the exaggerated expressiveness that audiences associate with kitsch. So, how could it possibly be cool?</p>
<p>I’m interested in viewing the show through the lens of <a href="https://irep.ntu.ac.uk/id/eprint/45239/1/1507168_Brown.pdf">cool theory</a> (which identifies different kinds of cool and breaks those down into core qualities). “Coolness” itself is a <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/14797585.2021.2000837">slippery and controversial term</a> that can mean almost opposing things. </p>
<p>For some, “cool” is simply what is fashionable. It can also be a rebellion against what is fashionable. Or an anti-social attitude in which nothing and no one else matters beyond your own stylish persona.</p>
<p>Indeed Sam Ryder – the UK’s near-win Eurovision act of 2022 whose high energy performance combined epic, earnest vocals with flowing natural locks, pearly teeth and a bejewelled one-piece – told the Guardian in 2022 that cool is “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2022/may/19/cool-is-the-enemy-eurovision-hero-sam-ryder-on-how-he-ditched-his-ego-and-found-his-joy">the enemy</a>”. </p>
<p>The profile of Ryder claimed he had no interest in the “detached rock star” exterior. This refers to the sense of unwillingness of “cool” musicians to have their dignity compromised by other people’s rules – an unwillingness to be caught making an effort.</p>
<p>But Eurovision is all about effort. A publicised drama of rehearsals and heats, nervous waving and nail biting in the green room – the performers are just generally far too eager. Because whether it’s death metal or pared back electronica, being liked is what these musicians are here for.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">Sam Ryder’s 2022 Eurovision performance.</span></figcaption>
</figure>
<p>On the other hand, it’s hard to imagine the uber-cool 1960s <a href="https://www.loudersound.com/features/krautrock-communism-and-chaos-the-anarchic-story-of-can">krautrock band Can</a> giving two hoots what a jury in Brussels would make of their genre-defining understated rock. Nor the jazz men Miles Davis, Charlie Parker or Lester Young, who set the parameters of cool performance with their sharp, formal attire and <a href="https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/cool-shades-9780857854643/">refusal to acknowledge the audience</a>.</p>
<h2>What kind of ‘cool’ is Eurovision?</h2>
<p>Although the performers of Eurovision aren’t detached, the audience can be. Sociologist Janna Michael’s <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/abs/10.1177/1469540513493206?journalCode=joca">2015 study</a> of European urban hipsters revealed that the point of cool is not what is liked, so much as how it is liked. This goes some way to explaining Eurovision’s appeal.</p>
<p>Since the 1980s, Eurovision has been presented (certainly in Britain) as something to enjoy in a specifically detached way, through irony. From 1973 to 2008, former commentator Terry Wogan’s flippant narration allowed the audience to collude in a knowing superiority over the event, finding its failed seriousness funny.</p>
<p>The cult following of Eurovision among those with a camp sensibility was further endorsed by the appointment of comedian Graham Norton as Wogan’s more obviously camp successor. </p>
<p>Do these fans love Eurovision because they enjoy the catharsis of the unabashed release of “bad taste”? Or because they enjoy feeling superior to those people (and nations) who genuinely engage with the drama of the competition? This is a side of <a href="https://www.abebooks.co.uk/9780719066153/Kitsch-Cultural-Politics-Taste-Ruth-0719066158/plp">cool’s ironic detachment that celebrates disdain for others</a>.</p>
<p>However, many British fans now speak enthusiastically about the tolerance and openness of Eurovision. As <a href="https://www.liverpoolecho.co.uk/news/showbiz-news/eurovisions-rylan-clark-blown-away-26873868">host Rylan Clark said this year</a>: “Everyone is welcome.” In recent years Eurovision has become more obviously and consciously open to gender diversity and aligned to LGBTQ+ tastes.</p>
<p>This was crystallised by bearded Austrian drag queen Conchita’s winning performance in 2014. The <a href="https://metro.co.uk/2023/05/11/eurovision-alesha-dixon-and-hannah-waddingham-turned-into-drag-queens-18770837/">drag makeovers given to all three semi-final hosts this year</a> confirmed the contest’s status as a space which endorses self-creation, individuality and tolerance – all aspects of the cool attitude.</p>
<h2>Becoming mainstream</h2>
<p>In the past, scholars of the theory of coolness have often focused too heavily on men and masculine, emotionally blank forms of “cool”, with composure and self-possession at their heart. Though this brand of cool is eloquently expressed in jazz, it is also visible in the consummate performer of drag.</p>
<p>Thanks to the popularity of shows such as RuPaul’s Drag Race, drag – once enjoyed purely in LGBTQ+ subcultures – is now mainstream entertainment. This is perhaps one reason Eurovision has suddenly become perceived as “cool” <a href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/06/120607180110.htm">by some</a>. But experiences of exclusion and marginalisation have historically been the conditions in which modern cool has been forged.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/rupauls-drag-race-our-research-shows-how-it-helps-destigmatise-the-lgbtq-community-199627">RuPaul’s Drag Race: our research shows how it helps destigmatise the LGBTQ+ community</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The very fact that Eurovision has been viewed for decades as a cultural white elephant, a place of almost inconsequential melodrama, gives it the potential to be resurrected as cool. </p>
<p>Liking Eurovision was once an anti-mainstream position. This gave the show the potential to become “cool”, through both its exaggeration of qualities seen as undesirable by dominant social tastes, and its willingness to push the boundaries of convention, despite the detractors.</p>
<p>The concept of cool is complicated – and it is changing. Indeed, <a href="https://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/06/120607180110.htm">some recent studies</a> have shown that perception of coolness is connected to activism and pro-social traits. Eurovision may seem like sparkly fluff, but perhaps now more than ever, it is also a vehicle for promoting greater acceptance of other ways of life. It’s all cool.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/205600/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Vanessa Brown does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Thanks to the popularity of shows such as RuPaul’s Drag Race, camp is now mainstream. This is perhaps one reason Eurovision has suddenly become perceived as cool.
Vanessa Brown, Course Leader MA Culture, Style and Fashion, Nottingham Trent University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/200765
2023-03-03T12:51:03Z
2023-03-03T12:51:03Z
David Bowie: five must-have items for the V&A’s new centre
<p>The Victoria and Albert Museum in London has <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-64729309">announced</a> the opening of a new David Bowie Centre for the Performing Arts in 2025 at V&A East Storehouse in east London. This follows the news that the museum has acquired – <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2023/feb/23/va-lands-huge-archive-of-david-bowie-memorabilia">through donation</a> – the artist’s fabled archive. </p>
<p>This collection of over 80,000 objects formed the basis of the museum’s 2013 exhibition <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2013/mar/24/david-bowie-is-exhibition-review">David Bowie Is</a>. It includes personal correspondence, lyric sheets, photographs, costumes, set designs, music awards, films, album artwork, instruments and plans for unrealised projects. </p>
<p>The show’s curators, Victoria Broackes and Geoffrey Marsh, described it as “one of the most, if not the most, complete archive of any pop music artist” of all time, </p>
<iframe style="border-radius:12px" src="https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/4wyp6TmKmF6XnQBXvGnfCO?utm_source=generator" width="100%" height="352" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen="" allow="autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" loading="lazy"></iframe>
<p>In 2020, I was <a href="https://ahc.leeds.ac.uk/english/news/article/1707/the-cambridge-companion-to-david-bowie">commissioned</a> to edit The Cambridge Companion to David Bowie, having long researched <a href="https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/123490/">the artist’s</a> (often ghostly) presence in both <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/10486801.2014.885902">contemporary theatre</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/10304312.2017.1334384">recent cinema</a>. </p>
<p>Here are my top five Bowie treasures, with a playlist that sounds out his <a href="https://theconversation.com/back-then-and-now-just-who-is-david-bowie-42052">playful curiosity</a> about how we occupy our bodies and <a href="https://theconversation.com/bowie-and-gender-transgression-what-a-drag-44569">genders</a>, his tender sense of our need for beauty and his passionate respect for <a href="https://theconversation.com/bowies-magical-wardrobe-led-his-fans-into-strange-new-musical-landscapes-53120">style</a>. </p>
<h2>1. Jockstrap</h2>
<p>During the 1973 Ziggy Stardust tour, <a href="https://www.snapgalleries.com/portfolio-items/david-bowie-by-masayoshi-sukita/">Masayoshi Sukita</a> photographed a <a href="https://www.snapgalleries.com/product/masayoshi-sukita-david-bowie-gimmie-your-hands/">near-naked Bowie</a> performing before a joyously crazed Japanese crowd, wearing only a <a href="https://slate.com/culture/2005/07/where-have-all-the-jockstraps-gone.html">jockstrap</a>. </p>
<p>This piece of athletic kit, so evocative of <a href="https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/304335047.pdf">sport’s homosocial energies</a> and of <a href="https://eprints.mdx.ac.uk/6517/1/Humberstone-older_people_sexualities.phd.pdf">working-class culture</a>, creates an irreverent tension with the androgyny and strangeness of the costumes fashion designer Kansai Yamamoto created for that same tour. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="David Bowie on stage wearing red boxing gloves." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=429&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/512902/original/file-20230301-16-3ttafv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=539&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Diamond Dogs tour in 1974.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/hdport/3329403108/in/photostream/">Hunter Desportes/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bowie was at his most gloriously <a href="https://core.ac.uk/works/9206049">queer</a> when trafficking in images of iconic, traditional (and intensely vulnerable) masculinity. Other notable accessories include the red boxing gloves he wore during live performances of his 1973 track Panic in Detroit and the darker gloves he sports on the cover of 1983’s Let’s Dance.</p>
<h2>2. The 1973 Hammersmith Odeon dressing table</h2>
<p>In <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/music/reviews/c9mq/">Ziggy Stardust: The Motion Picture</a>, the 1973 Donn Alan Pennebaker documentary about Bowie’s final Ziggy gig, we see the artist preparing for the stage. As he sits in front of a mirrored dressing table, his makeup artist applies rouge, eyeshadow and eyeliner, transforming him from a pallid young man into a feminine icon. </p>
<p>I’d like the new centre to recreate the dressing table: the two bottles of wine (one opened), the white plastic cups, the boxes of tissues, the large tin of hairspray, the container of Johnson & Johnson baby powder, the well-used green ashtray.</p>
<p>This gentle display of the mundane paraphernalia of 1970s femininity speaks to Bowie’s lifelong preoccupation with what English literature expert Shelton Walderp terms an <a href="https://www.upress.umn.edu/book-division/books/the-aesthetics-of-self-invention">“aesthetics of self-invention”</a>, stretching from Bowie back to Oscar Wilde, and beyond to Shakespeare and Japanese Kabuki theatre. </p>
<h2>3. Bowie’s copy of George Orwell’s 1984 – and other books</h2>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/noBhZMIQERI?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>One installation in the 2013 V&A show featured a faceless mannequin with outstretched arms, high, high up in the space. It was draped in a cloak designed by Yamamoto in 1973, a white floor-length garment, made in the <a href="https://www2.ntj.jac.go.jp/unesco/kabuki/en/production/performance1.html">Japanese hikinuki tradition</a> and designed to be ripped off in a speedy onstage costume change. It is covered in red and black <a href="https://www.japan-guide.com/e/e2046.html">kanji</a> which translate as “one who spits out words in a fiery manner”. </p>
<p>Suspended around it in the V&A, like so many birds in flight, were 20-odd books from Bowie’s personal library by authors including RD Laing, Vladimir Nabokov and Hubert Selby Jr. </p>
<p>I’d love to see Bowie’s copy of George Orwell’s 1984 feature – a novel I read, aged 12, after I had heard Bowie was writing a musical based on it. Also, anything he owned by French writer Jean Genet, whose name inspired the title of the 1972 single, The Jean Genie, and whose final book, Prisoner of Love (1986) inspired the eponymous song Bowie recorded with Tin Machine in 1989. </p>
<h2>4. The Hedi Slimane three piece suit – and other blue suits</h2>
<p>On 1977’s Sound and Vision, Bowie <a href="https://pure.hud.ac.uk/en/publications/sound-and-vision">famously sang</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blue, blue, electric blue<br>
That’s the colour of my room </p>
</blockquote>
<p>This sentiment chimes with the filmmaker, <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/films/features/why-derek-jarman-s-life-was-even-more-influential-than-his-films-9137025.html">Derek Jarman</a>’s own take on the colour (in Chroma: A Book of Colour):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Blue, an open door to the soul<br>
An infinite possibility<br>
Becoming tangible</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Bowie greatly admired Jarman, an extract of whose film, <a href="https://mubi.com/films/blue">Blue</a>, was played during the pre-show music for the 1995 Outside tour. Like Jarman, Bowie loved the colour blue, maybe, in part, because he knew how good he looked in it. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AZKcl4-tcuo?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Like he did in the turquoise suit Freddi Burretti designed for his 1973 Life on Mars? video, whose vivid hue echoed Bowie’s eye make-up; or the powder-blue suit designed by Peter Hall that featured regularly on the 1983 Serious Moonlight tour; and the gorgeous petrol-blue three-piece, designed by Hedi Slimane, that he wore on his 2002 Heathen tour. </p>
<h2>5. The white Supro guitar – and other instruments</h2>
<p>One of the most compelling photographs in the David Bowie Is catalogue is of the <a href="https://dshowmusic.com/supro-david-bowie-1961-dual-tone-guitar/">white Supro 1961 Dual Tone</a> electric guitar that Bowie played on his final tour, in support of the 2003 Reality album. The image remains emblematic of Bowie’s dogged commitment to the possibilities, and actual making of music.</p>
<p>Other instruments of note would include the <a href="https://www.kingston.ac.uk/news/article/2028/14-mar-2018-esteemed-music-producer-tony-visconti-shares-tips-on-working-with-artists-including-david-bowie-and/">12-string acoustic guitar</a> he turned to throughout his career; the <a href="https://faroutmagazine.co.uk/the-david-bowie-song-inspired-by-kyoto-japan/">Japanese koto</a> he plays on the 1977 track Moss Garden; the <a href="https://research.tees.ac.uk/ws/portalfiles/portal/6359081/344409.pdf">saxophone</a> he had played since he was a teenager; and the harmonicas that followed him from 1969’s song Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed to 2016’s I Can’t Give Everything Away, the final track on <a href="https://theconversation.com/david-bowies-late-revival-belongs-to-a-grand-tradition-dating-back-to-beethoven-71031">Blackstar</a>, his final album.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/200765/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Denis Flannery does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The artist’s fabled archive spans his entire career, showcasing his playful curiosity, his need for beauty and his respect for style.
Denis Flannery, Associate Professor in American Literature, University of Leeds
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/199437
2023-02-07T20:48:03Z
2023-02-07T20:48:03Z
Sam Smith: how queerphobia and fatphobia intersect in the backlash to the I’m Not Here to Make Friends video
<p><a href="https://www.gaytimes.co.uk/music/sam-smith-breaks-silence-on-their-non-binary-journey-ive-always-felt-gender-non-conforming/">Non-binary singer</a> Sam Smith has caused waves with the release of their music video for <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYjHhqLSiN4">I’m Not Here to Make Friends</a>, a triumphantly queer declaration of joy and confidence.</p>
<p>The song opens with clips of Judy Garland’s Over the Rainbow and drag queen <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/RuPaul">RuPaul</a> calling for self love, imposed over a decadent scene of Sam Smith flying into a manor party via gold helicopter. Smith emerges clad in pink ruffles – a picture of queer joy.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The music video for Sam Smith’s I’m Not Here to Make Friends.</span></figcaption>
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<p>Among the video’s many costume changes, Smith is shown in high-heeled boots, nipple pasties, corsets and – most wonderfully – a showgirl headdress and skintight black dress. The lyrics declare, “I’m not here to make friends, I need a lover”, a motto Smith developed after being <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fG-MDcEMNI">“friendzoned” on dates</a>.</p>
<p>The video rejects heterosexual, traditional gender roles in favour of queer representation. It features gender-defying outfits and writhing men in revealing underwear, reminiscent of Lady Gaga’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=niqrrmev4mA">Alejandro</a> or the hypersexualised images of gay art icon, <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/23268743.2019.1580449">Tom of Finland</a>.</p>
<p>Smith’s video also includes “voguing”, the dance style of the <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/striking-a-pose-a-brief-history-of-ball-culture-629280/">gay ballroom scene</a> (made mainstream by Madonna’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuJQSAiODqI">music video for Vogue</a>), many sequins and – at one point – references to erotic urination as champagne bottles pop onto Smith’s waiting face.</p>
<p>Throughout the video, many people’s genders are unclear. The manor rooms are filled with drag queens and people who look feminine, masculine and androgynous. Smith takes centre frame, being lifted, sought after and gazed at adoringly as they proclaim, “30 almost got me, and I’m so over love songs.”</p>
<p>Smith, frankly, is out to fuck for fun. And this is no different from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ohD6cyB8RI4">many other</a> mass market pop songs with explicit sexuality woven throughout their lyrics.</p>
<h2>The backlash to Smith’s queer joy</h2>
<p>I’m Not Here to Make Friends is an upbeat song that makes listeners want to dance, an explicit celebration of queer sexuality. This is a departure from Smith’s oeuvre, formed of songs about <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCkpzqqog4k">break-ups</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PmYypVozQb4">infidelity</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pB-5XG-DbAA">loneliness</a>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_ub7Etch2U">pain</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H1hDzq98WIY">self-loathing</a>. It highlights the elements of queer life worth living.</p>
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<p>While it may be worth analysing Smith’s joy as connected to their position as a wealthy, white, LGBTQ+ celebrity (as well as their decadence amid a cost of living crisis), the criticism that has emerged most aggressively in response to the video is explicit in its trans, fat and femme phobia.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.distractify.com/p/sam-smith-music-video-controversy">Newspaper columnists, social media influencers and other conservative pundits</a> have responded to Smith’s video with claims that their non-binary identity is attention grabbing, that their fatness should be covered up, that their video is a bad example to children and that they are “morally debased”, “perverted” and “disgusting”. </p>
<p>As an expert in sexuality and gender, I’m finding much to consider in the reactions to Smith’s work. Having previously presented as a gay man, Smith had already been subject to homophobia. However, they are now one of the only publicly non-binary celebrities, leading to accusations that they are manipulating their identity for further fame.</p>
<p>This is a continuation of the <a href="https://firstmonday.org/ojs/index.php/fm/article/view/10601">transphobic discrimination</a> non-binary people often experience, which attempts to portray any deviation from the gender binary as foolish and misguided.</p>
<p>For non-binary people, whose mental health is often worse than their <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/15532739.2019.1630346">cis counterparts</a> (that is, individuals whose gender aligns with their sex at birth), wellbeing might be <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/15532739.2018.1505576">improved</a> by representation. The negative reactions to Smith’s work could contravene the positive impact of their public display of queer joy.</p>
<h2>The impact of fat and femmephobia</h2>
<p><a href="https://bristoluniversitypressdigital.com/display/book/9781447367420/ch004.xml">Fatphobia</a> (the social disgust and structural discrimination that fat people experience) further colours reactions to Smith’s work. </p>
<p>Smith does not have a figure conventionally associated with pop stardom. While it would be far from true to call them “fat”, they have experienced significant fatphobia in the calls for them to cover up and show modesty.</p>
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<p>The body positivity social movement has <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S1740144519303894">made some progress</a> in diversifying the range of body types we see, such as in social media posts tagged with #bodypositivity which show varied representations of body types. <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13548506.2020.1734219">Evidence suggests</a> that media exposure to different body types alone can encourage kindness towards diverse body types. However, the uptake of positive depictions of fatness has been <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/hpja.21">slower in print</a> and <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/21604851.2019.1547572">patchier in television media.</a></p>
<p><a href="https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s10508-020-01641-x">Femmephobia</a> (anti-femininity experienced through social and structural discrimination) underscores the types of trans and fatphobia Smith is receiving.</p>
<p>Smith has gradually been shifting over their career from wearing <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xeugznpGKPA">masculine suits </a> to sexy black dresses and corsets. Femme and fatphobia underpins reactions to their body, their gender expression and – ultimately – the willingness to take Smith seriously as an artist.</p>
<p>The public rejections of queer, femme or fat joy found in the backlash to Sam Smith’s video don’t just impact the singer. They have consequences for anyone who sees a glimmer of themselves in Smith’s art. For non-binary, trans, femme or fat people, the conservative repudiations of Smith have the potential to cause harm and pain.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/199437/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Rosie Nelson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
In their new video, Sam Smith celebrates their sexuality unapologetically like many other mass market pop stars. So why the backlash? An expert explains.
Rosie Nelson, Lecturer in Gender, University of Bristol
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/189486
2023-01-31T12:55:28Z
2023-01-31T12:55:28Z
The artist formerly known as Camille – Prince’s lost album ‘comes out’
<p>When Prince Rogers Nelson <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2016/apr/22/prince-obituary">died</a> at the age of 57 on April 21, 2016, it sent shockwaves around the world. Tributes from fans flooded social media, vigils sprang up across the US, and key landmarks, including the Lowry Bridge in Prince’s hometown of Minneapolis, <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-36109110">turned purple</a> to mark his passing. Yet the end of Prince’s earthly existence by no means marks the end of his enduring musical and artistic impact.</p>
<p>The legacies of beloved artists have long transcended their lifetimes. Socially, politically, sexually, and ideologically speaking, Prince is no exception. A remarkably productive and always cryptic figure, he continues to incite fascination from beyond the grave. However, his most incendiary and relevant album has yet to be released.</p>
<p>Pop has long been a rich space for subverting gendered stereotypes and Prince consistently challenged the rigidity of binary gender roles. At once hyper-masculine and delicately feminine, he cuts a distinctive and enigmatic figure within queer pop history. </p>
<p>Now, a cancelled 1987 album that explores all these elements is finally about to see the light of day.</p>
<p>The tracklist and songs that make up this lost release have been available in various guises for several decades, some existing on compilations, albums, and unofficial leaks. We have analysed all the available evidence and musical fragments ahead of their much anticipated reunion to present the most accurate picture possible of this elusive work.</p>
<p>Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to introduce <a href="https://www.nme.com/news/music/unreleased-prince-album-camille-to-be-issued-by-third-man-records-3183499">Camille</a>.</p>
<h2>Purple reign</h2>
<p>By 1986 Prince was already cemented as a potent force in popular music. After the success of the <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0087957/">Purple Rain movie</a> 18 months earlier and a slew of successful mould-breaking singles under his belt, including When Doves Cry, Let’s Go Crazy, Raspberry Beret, and Kiss, Prince returned to the recording studio with his sound engineer <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2017/nov/09/princes-sound-engineer-susan-rogers-he-needed-to-be-the-alpha-male-to-get-things-done">Susan Rogers</a> to embark on a new project.</p>
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<p>It revolved around one core concept that Prince wanted to explore: his voice. Through processing his vocals in the studio, Prince and Rogers were able to increase the pitch of his voice so it no longer sounded what we might call “male”. The process was actually the same as on the “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmjrTcYMqBM&ab_channel=patrickdcyau">Chipmunk</a>” records of the late 1950s, but done to a much more subtle degree. This more “feminine” or “female” voice was christened Camille by Prince and became the centre of his new project.</p>
<p>By November 1986, the whole album (also called Camille) was finalised and a few vinyl demos were pressed in preparation for release the following year. Controversially, Prince decided to attribute the whole album to Camille rather than himself, and his name would not appear on the packaging. But, for reasons that are not known, the release was cancelled – most likely because the record label <a href="https://thequietus.com/articles/03663-prince-revolutionary-transmissions-from-beyond-the-greatest-hits-comp">baulked</a> at the idea of a Prince-less Prince album. Camille lived on for a short time beyond the cancelled release, with three tracks repurposed for the legendary <a href="https://open.spotify.com/album/1XsXHctYSQNyAd9BANCk2B?si=diYohXf7SnC3GdL1iCd-NQ">Sign ‘O’ The Times</a>, specifically If I Was Your Girlfriend, Housequake, and Strange Relationship. After this, Camille was never heard from again.</p>
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<p><strong><em>This story is part of Conversation Insights</em></strong>
<br><em>The Insights team generates <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218">long-form journalism</a> and is working with academics from different backgrounds who have been engaged in projects to tackle societal and scientific challenges.</em></p>
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<p>In the intervening years, rumours, fan theories, album sleeve notes, tour programmes, and biographies have all hinted at the possible Camille album. But it was not until Prince’s former production manager Karen Krattinger offered one of the demo copies of the album at an <a href="https://www.rrauction.com/auctions/lot-detail/337420505166116--prince-1986-39-camille-39-advance-pressing/?cat=0">auction in 2016</a> that the record was confirmed as actually “real”. Now, seven years later, Jack White’s Third Man Records has reached an <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/prince-camille-third-man-records-jack-white-release-1322029/">agreement with Prince’s estate</a> to release the full album.</p>
<h2>Queer histories</h2>
<p>The story of Camille fits into the wider narrative and rediscovery of the hidden histories of queer and trans people, mapping the blank spaces where they were erased from history. Many examples spring to mind, but perhaps soul singer <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2019/feb/25/jackie-shane-groundbreaking-trans-soul-singer">Jackie Shane’s</a> slow rediscovery over the past decade is a perfect example of the treasure trove of music and figures that have been obscured from music history. When shared, these histories can empower marginalised groups within broader society. Imagine the potential impact had Camille been released and received as a queer persona in 1987. What would have happened if “His Royal Badness” had been “Her” four decades ago?</p>
<p>In many ways it is futile to speculate around lost impact. Yet it is worth reflecting on what it would have meant to have an artist of colour – who was also a bastion of male sexuality – playing with gender, femininity and sexuality. Would it have pushed further aspects of queerness into popular culture? After all, Prince was a mainstream megastar, selling millions upon millions of records throughout the 1980s.</p>
<p>Conversely, imagine pop without the gender-bending and provocatively queer moments that we now hold up as legendary. What would our history be if we lost David Bowie and Mick Ronson’s shocking “<a href="https://sfae.com/Artists/Mick-Rock/David-Bowie-and-Mick-Ronson-Guitar-Fellatio-1972">oral guitar solo</a>”, the winking audacity of the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f4Mc-NYPHaQ">I Want to Break Free</a> video, Frankie telling us to “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yem_iEHiyJ0">relax</a>”, or Lil Nas X offering the devil a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6swmTBVI83k">lapdance</a>? Camille should have been among this list of cultural touchstone moments that make up our collective conception of popular music.</p>
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<p>Several highly-acclaimed recent television series’ have also focused on queer history at a time contemporaneous with Camille’s original planned release date. Russell T Davies’ mini-drama <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt9140342/">It’s A Sin</a> focused on the lives of young queer Brits during the AIDS epidemic that decimated the community. Equally lauded was FX’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7562112/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Pose</a>, which explored the lives of LGBTQ+ people of colour in the New York ballroom scene of the 1980s. The resurgence and reinsertion of the ballroom scene documentary <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0100332/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Paris Is Burning</a> (filmed again in the mid-late 1980s) into public consciousness points to a wide and continued fascination with this period of queer history.</p>
<p>Among today’s so-called “culture wars”, the <a href="https://theconversation.com/trans-rights-and-political-backlash-five-key-moments-in-history-187476">denigration of the trans community</a>, and the recent rise in <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/dec/03/recorded-homophobic-hate-crimes-soared-in-pandemic-figures-show">homophobic and queerphobic hate</a>, a celebration of the diversity of gender performances is surely as welcome as ever. In recent years the unique perspectives of queer, trans and non-binary artists have been praised by popular music fans and pundits alike. Sophie, Mikki Blanco, Kim Petras, Julianna Huxtable, Anohni, Honey Dijon, Arca, and many more have greatly increased the audibility of queer voices for the broader pop music fan base.</p>
<p>So with Camille finally about to “come out” (in every sense of the phrase), it seems like the right time to ask what impact she might have had in 1987, how she was created, and why now is the perfect moment for her debut.</p>
<h2>I Wanna Be Your Lover</h2>
<p>Prince was sexy. Not necessarily just as an object of desire, but his persona, music, lyrics, dance moves, album covers, and public image oozed sex, ambiguous sexuality, and overt sensuality. He was a cheeky champion of all things kinky. The lyrics to Darling Nikki, Get Off, Soft and Wet, Head, and Dirty Mind, among others, should be enough to convince you of his sexual credentials.</p>
<p>Prince’s particular form of musical sexuality was unique and often hard to define. His approach to sex, in general public consciousness, was masculine, straight, tough, and naughty. But it could also be feminine, queer, tender and spiritually chaste. Wesley Morris sums up this sexual ambiguity perfectly in his <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2016/04/23/arts/music/prince-sex.html">New York Times</a> piece, saying that the focus of Prince’s sexual orientation was always oriented towards “you” – that is, the listener.</p>
<p>Here we are of course conflating aspects of gender, sexuality, and sex. But with Prince, it’s hard to untangle those elements. Prince was at his most interesting and successful when he wrapped himself in ambiguity and androgyny. The opening lines to <a href="https://youtu.be/SVEFRQavTNI?t=167">I Would Die 4 U</a> specifically tell us this:</p>
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<p>I’m not a woman. I’m not a man. I am something that you’ll never understand.</p>
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<p>He left us other clues about the way he viewed race, sex and sexuality in tracks like <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gazNwzC4H0&ab_channel=Prince">Controversy</a>, where he played with the media’s portrayal of celebrity. </p>
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<p>Am I Black or white? Am I straight or gay?</p>
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<p>Of course, he wasn’t the first to play with these ideas. Western popular music has a rich history of genderplay. Cast your mind back to the decadence of glam rock, the unabashed sweaty sexiness of disco, or the glittery flamboyance of the New Romantics. A degree of <a href="https://www.routledge.com/The-British-Pop-Dandy-Masculinity-Popular-Music-and-Culture/Hawkins/p/book/9781138259614">dandyism</a> has long allowed the male rock star to challenge the codes of reserved, stoic, western masculinity. The term “dandy” in this case refers to those lavishly dressed, ostentatiously extravagant male artists of the latter half of the 20th century. Rock stars like Marc Almond, David Bowie and Mick Jagger used elaborate fashion and exaggerated movements to free themselves of conservative expectations around <a href="https://www.routledge.com/The-British-Pop-Dandy-Masculinity-Popular-Music-and-Culture/Hawkins/p/book/9781138259614">how men “should” behave</a>.</p>
<p>Yet, Prince’s androgyny always felt different. As author <a href="https://www.vulture.com/article/glitter-up-the-dark-sasha-geffen-book-review.html">Sasha Geffen</a> wrote, it went beyond costume, it was “a part of who he was, reflected not only in his clothes but in his voice, mannerisms and presence”. He often played with a hypersexual mode of masculine musicality, as documented by songs like Erotic City, while his visual persona could easily be described as “soft” or “pretty”, as he appears on the cover of his <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prince_(album)">eponymous album</a>. So Prince’s ambiguity is entangled within his entire persona. Nowhere is this clearer than on this currently unreleased gem. </p>
<h2>The voice</h2>
<p>If Prince is hard to pigeonhole, then Camille proves even more elusive.</p>
<p>The Camille persona did not just arrive fully formed. Rogers was instrumental in bringing Camille to life. As Prince’s sound engineer for Purple Rain and Sign ‘O’ The Times, she facilitated his performances and helped craft his most seminal albums. <a href="http://anthropology.mit.edu/sites/default/files/documents/helmreich_tape_prince_and_the_studio.pdf">She has described</a> Camille as a figure “who might have been male, might have been female, it wasn’t really clear – might have been kind of ghostly, might have been kind of humanoid”. </p>
<p>However, the technology used to create Camille’s voice from that of Prince was rudimentary. In 1986, “realistic” male-to-female voice modification in a recording studio was not possible, and still poses challenges for technology companies today. But the limitations of the technology are one of the most revealing aspects of Camille.</p>
<p>A study from the <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/28844651/">Journal of Voice</a> illustrates that voices that are manipulated in this way are perceived as “non-male”. The study also points to the “gender ambiguity” of a voice treated similarly to Camille. There are <a href="https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0892199704001729">several studies</a> that present <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/23415148/">similar findings</a>. In essence, this research shows that altering the voice can have an impact on how we perceive someone’s gender. But more importantly, the processing of Prince/Camille’s voice is done to a degree that defies the gender binary.</p>
<p>It’s not just the pitch of Camille’s voice that sheds light on her possible persona. On the track Good Love we can hear Camille offering us a half-spoken/half-sung vocal mimicking the “valley girl” delivery made famous in the teen classic <a href="https://youtu.be/-UOcp9ydcM0?t=50">Clueless</a>. By using elements of the stereotypical creaky-voiced “vocal fry”, Camille is telling us to what tribe she might belong. Plus, the squeals of girlish delight we hear throughout the song point to something other than the machismo one might expect from a 1980s male sex symbol.</p>
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<p>If, as originally intended, we didn’t know that this album was produced by Prince, we might have a very different perspective on the singer. In essence, there is evidence to say that Camille might be best perceived female, or possibly as queer or trans – at least in terms of her voice. Yet, her voice and delivery aren’t our only clues to her identity. It can also be found in what she says.</p>
<h2>Camille comes out</h2>
<p>If I Was Your Girlfriend is one of the songs which survived and made it on to Sign ‘O’ The Times, and in some early releases is even <a href="https://www.discogs.com/release/6806791-Prince-Sign-O-The-Times">credited</a> to Camille. The song is perhaps where the combination of lyrics and artificial vocal manipulation are most striking. Opening with six bars of falsetto sighs and screams, the song introduces us to a more vulnerable Camille. This vulnerability soon gives way to something more urgent.</p>
<p>The meaning of “girlfriend” is as ambiguous as we have come to expect from Prince. The opening verses describe our narrator and the addressee doing arguably platonic activities, like choosing outfits and swapping stories about those who have wronged them. It is not long, however, until Camille sings of the sexual gratification that might result from such closeness and promises of long baths and kisses “down there, where it counts” soon follow. </p>
<p>The shifting perspectives of the narrator make it difficult to work out who is being addressed and who does the addressing in this song. Camille makes reference early on to having been the former “man” of the person she sings to and suggestions of children occur in the spoken section. Yet her pleas to girlfriend status make up the majority of the song. All elements are sung in Camille’s distinctive timbre. Jumping between male and female signifiers throughout, Camille could be said to occupy an ambiguous space here, leaving us little in the way of explanation. </p>
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<p>The track might be presenting Camille as a transgender persona. Alternatively, there is an argument to be made that Prince is simply asking the object of his affections for the kind of emotional intimacy common in close female friendships. Yet, the hypersexual male rock star making such a plea is striking, particularly in combination with the vocal manipulation. Perhaps Prince is challenging the tough, promiscuous persona that might be expected of the rock god? </p>
<p>On the track’s original B-side, Shockadelica, we find Camille in a less melancholic mood. As on If I Was Your Girlfriend, the identity of our narrator is not immediately apparent. Prince sings about Camille, but in her voice. Is Prince talking about this mysterious, bewitching woman, or is Camille singing in the third person, as befits a diva? </p>
<p>Either way, Shockadelica is an unapologetic celebration of Camille and her allure: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>She must be a witch, she got your mind, body, and soul hitched!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Where If I Was Your Girlfriend challenged gendered stereotypes through its emotional openness, Shockadelica is a paean to female sexuality. This is a woman who is fully aware of her appeal and in total control of it, rendering her admirer completely helpless.</p>
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<p>Feel U Up would also find its home as a B-side, in this case for 1989’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AjY8HvpNu6o">Partyman</a>. Feel U Up is classic Prince hedonism. Camille urges the object of her affections to enjoy the moment – any subsequent relationship, however fleeting, is not of concern here. Camille prioritises the other person’s pleasure in this song, encapsulating Morris’ points about Prince’s focus on “you” with lyrics like: “I ain’t looking for a one night stand, I only wanna feel you up.”</p>
<p>In this collection of songs, Camille is a fully fleshed-out character. She contains multitudes in her desires and her insecurities, and her complexities are consistent with the complexities in all of us. </p>
<h2>Strange relationship</h2>
<p>You may have noticed us refer to Camille as she/her and this is quite deliberate. In the lyrics there are scant references to pronouns, but when they are used she is consistently referred to as “she” or “that girl”, or directly by name. Although she is female on this album, she is referred to as the “boy named Camille” in the LoveSexy tourbook (and in French, the name is unisex). There is also <a href="https://thevioletreality.com/there-was-a-boy-named-camille-exploring-princes-elusive-alter-ego-3e1c6e1daec0">evidence</a> to suggest that aspects of Camille were inspired by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herculine_Barbin">Herculine Adélaïde Barbin</a>, a 19th-century French intersex person who identified as female. Due to the imminent release of the album in which Camille seems to be tangibly female, we call her “she” in this context, with the caveat that she appears more fluid in other instances.</p>
<p>The deeper into this album we have gone, the more apparent Camille’s separation from Prince has become. We think it is fair to say that Prince never thought of Camille as some form of fleeting sonic drag. Rather, Camille is an entire alter ego, or a new frontier for Prince to explore.</p>
<p>With Camille, we can hear Prince parsing experiences of sex and the sexual between his own experience and that of his female alter ego. Prince is interested in all things erotic, and that extends as far as donning a female or queer persona to allow a full range of experiences. Camille tells us so on Feel U Up: “I don’t really want to be your man, I only want to feel you up.”</p>
<p>And Camille seems to spark a broader fascination for Prince, particularly concerning the idea of two opposites or binaries existing together. In 1986 it was Camille and the exploration of the male and female. A few years later, he’d don a superhero and supervillain costume simultaneously (divided down the middle, of course) and call himself Gemini for the soundtrack album for 1989’s Batman. You can even see Gemini in the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ulOLYnOthIw&ab_channel=Prince">Bat Dance</a> video. Writer <a href="https://thevioletreality.com/there-was-a-boy-named-camille-exploring-princes-elusive-alter-ego-3e1c6e1daec0">Lucas Cava</a> offers a fascinating deep dive into the dual personalities and interwoven origin stories of Gemini and Camille, guiding us through their development in videos, songs, films and extracts from tour programmes. </p>
<p>It isn’t coincidental that Prince wanted to explore these binaries between man and woman, evil and good. An interest in dichotomies seems to have been a theme in Prince’s life and career. His patented <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TBr6H75DBsU">Minneapolis sound</a> is a blend of working-class white rock and queer Black disco. Life and death crops up regularly in Prince’s lyrics. Even his Dandyish fashion draws together elements of masculine and feminine together.</p>
<p>Whereas Prince and Camille played with the dichotomies of male and female, Prince’s contemporaries explored the spaces in-between and along the spectrum of gender. Bowie was at various points dandy-ish (look at the Hunky Dory and The Man Who Sold the World album covers), a glittery bisexual alien (the Aladdin Sane and Ziggy Stardust personas), and an emblem of sneering masculinity (The Thin White Duke). Boy George and Annie Lennox proudly danced in the middle, gazing out at you from the cover of <a href="https://calendar.songfacts.com/january/23/20756">Newsweek</a>. Grace Jones’ statuesque coolness defied conventions of demure femininity, while Sylvester’s brand of queer joy flew in the face of stoic masculinity. </p>
<p>Taking a more aggressive tone, the heavy metal fraternity (see <a href="https://i2.wp.com/stonemusic.it/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/603497891511.jpg?fit=1200%2C800&ssl=1">Twisted Sister</a> and <a href="https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/59496a481b10e371ac6e294f/1610658361917-F8TEECSM9MYHNE83DI2T/1mTLc7.jpg">Mötley Crüe</a>) of the 1980s applied makeup and Lycra in an attempt to shock crowds, parents and topple the status quo. The earlier <a href="https://img.apmcdn.org/d122c4b59af1c352e04d53badbcced2a67e652d9/uncropped/4ea853-20140804-stones-drag.jpg">Rolling Stones attempt</a> at provoking audiences with similar drag appears (retrospectively at least) more <a href="https://youtu.be/uyORbG3I5Ys?t=8">Monty Python</a> than scandalising, more churchgoing Sunday best than skintight spandex.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"443835578480869376"}"></div></p>
<p>Prince and Camille sit apart from these artists. They don’t revel in the innumerable gradations along the spectrum of gender and they certainly do not mock any interpretation thereof. Rather, they represent the polar positions, singing back and forth to one another across the expanse.</p>
<h2>A sign of the times</h2>
<p>In the process of listening to and revisiting the songs made for the album, we have found ourselves running in circles trying to define this mysterious and intriguing persona. Each time one of us thought we had found a definition we could pin down, it would slip from our grasp on a second listen. In light of this, we decided that it would be more valuable to celebrate her ambiguity and ask what the release of the album means now, rather than trying to pigeonhole or categorise her.</p>
<p>Freed from her four decades in <a href="https://www.facebook.com/60minutes/videos/a-team-of-archivists-is-going-through-princes-unreleased-music-and-proposing-new/4243364925696171/">the vault</a>, Camille will finally be allowed to come out. The question now is how and where to situate Camille within a queer pop history. Will she be lauded as an important lost voice in music history, or cast aside as a novelty for Prince completists?</p>
<p>Camille’s long absence leaves us only able to speculate on the impact she might have had. Had the Camille album been released as planned, could she have contributed to the wider representation of queer artists earlier in our pop culture past? What kind of ruminations around gender could she have provoked in the public consciousness? What would a Camille tour have looked like? There are surely queer elements that might have become part of broader public discourse, at least among Prince’s established fanbase, as a consequence of Camille’s presence. </p>
<p>The history of androgyny and genderplay in pop is a rich one, but Camille embodies something that eludes neat compartmentalisation. While we can’t know for sure what kind of impact Camille would have had at her inception, she belongs to a vibrant hidden history of queer artists. Personally speaking, we like the fact that Camille is so challenging to define. She brings ambiguity, playfulness, and queerness to bear in a way that few artists ever explore. That androgyny and otherness is, to us, where her real power and contribution comes from.</p>
<p>It is fair to say that Camille would not have been a cure-all for queer rights and discrimination and we must be careful not to overestimate her impact. She would not have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, ushering in a new age of fraternal love, but she may have added another high-profile voice to the growing number of queer artists presenting important and publicly relevant work. </p>
<p>We can only hypothesise what she would have meant to listeners in 1987. However, that doesn’t negate or diminish her contribution and importance to audiences today, particularly audiences who may see themselves reflected in her enigmatic sensuality.</p>
<hr>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=112&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/313478/original/file-20200204-41481-1n8vco4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=140&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p><em>For you: more from our <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/topics/insights-series-71218?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK">Insights series</a>:</em></p>
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<li><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/my-work-investigating-the-links-between-viruses-and-alzheimers-disease-was-dismissed-for-years-but-now-the-evidence-is-building-184201">My work investigating the links between viruses and Alzheimer’s disease was dismissed for years – but now the evidence is building</a></em></p></li>
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<p><em>To hear about new Insights articles, join the hundreds of thousands of people who value The Conversation’s evidence-based news. <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/newsletters/the-daily-newsletter-2?utm_source=TCUK&utm_medium=linkback&utm_campaign=TCUKengagement&utm_content=InsightsUK"><strong>Subscribe to our newsletter</strong></a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/189486/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
A lost album by the late Prince, set for release in 2023, promises to highlight how the pop pioneer played with gender roles.
Liam Maloney, Programme Leader for Music & Sound Recording, University of York
Alice Masterson, Visiting Music Lecturer, University of York
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/176326
2022-02-14T14:46:39Z
2022-02-14T14:46:39Z
RuPaul’s Drag Race contestant, Maddy Morphosis, sparks conversations about cishet inclusion and queer discomfort
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/445216/original/file-20220208-21-q5jqkp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C3%2C2286%2C3722&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Maddy Morphosis was the first straight, cisgender man on RuPaul's Drag Race.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(VH1)</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In recent years, <em>RuPaul’s Drag Race</em> and its spin-offs have welcomed several transgender, nonbinary and <a href="https://www.instagram.com/victoriascone/?hl=en">lesbian cisgender</a> performers to the franchise.</p>
<p>Now in its 14th season, the Emmy award winning reality TV program features <a href="https://www.instagram.com/maddymorphosis/?hl=en">Maddy Morphosis</a>, its first heterosexual cisgender contestant. Yup, that’s right: a straight cis-man could have made “herstory” as “America’s Next Drag Superstar.” </p>
<p>While <em>Drag Race</em> has been a force in discussing <a href="https://doi.org/10.1215/10642684-3123665">non-normative gender presentation</a> and performance on mainstream TV, it has <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2018/mar/03/rupaul-drag-race-big-f-you-to-male-dominated-culture">brought with it controversy</a> and conversations about inclusion. </p>
<p>By casting Maddy Morphosis, the show has opened itself up to new fan commentary.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/rupauls-drag-race-and-lip-syncing-a-once-controversial-practice-is-no-longer-taboo-166473">'RuPaul’s Drag Race' and lip-syncing: A once controversial practice is no longer taboo</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<p>Some are writing <a href="https://i-d.vice.com/en_uk/article/k7wbq9/maddy-morphosis-straight-queen-drag-race">in defense of the choice</a>, arguing that a diverse cast inclusive of heterosexual cis-men speaks back to toxic masculinity by <a href="https://transequality.org/sites/default/files/docs/resources/Understanding-Drag-April-2017.pdf">inviting the idea that any performer</a> can take part in the art of drag regardless of gender or sexuality. </p>
<p>Others are more concerned about how her presence invades queer spaces since, as <a href="https://twitter.com/MaddyMorphosis/status/1467640003123687428">Maddy Morphosis herself notes</a>, “straight men are not a persecuted and excluded group within the drag community.”</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1482167221459763205"}"></div></p>
<p>Both sides take on what political scientist Cathy J. Cohen describes as “<a href="https://doi.org/10.1215/9780822387220-003">a monolithic understanding of heterosexuality and queerness</a>,” causes the conversation around Maddy Morphosis to be all about the pros and cons of inclusivity. </p>
<p>But there are many “<a href="https://www.ubcpress.ca/disrupting-queer-inclusion">complicities, collusions, and costs of inclusion</a>.” So, what does it mean to have white straight cis-men take up space in such a public drag scene, beyond the need for so-called inclusivity? </p>
<h2>Hollow understandings of diversity and inclusion</h2>
<p>As much as drag is a longstanding performance art, it is also a queer culture indebted to people of colour, and <a href="https://www.bloomsbury.com/ca/contemporary-drag-practices-and-performers-9781350082946/">Black and Latinx drag ballroom communities</a> in particular. </p>
<p>During the growing white gay liberation movement, <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2013.829861">low-income queer people of colour</a> were gathering to form safe spaces in New York City and elsewhere. <a href="https://doi.org/10.1353/fem.2011.0016">Ballroom culture</a> still offers space for participants to express their sexuality and gender, while also finding chosen family to help survive against racist, homophobic and transphobic violence.</p>
<p>These safe spaces, time and time again, have been capitalized upon by recent media to <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jun/24/burning-down-the-house-debate-paris-is-burning">shamelessly profit off of</a> a contemporary consumer society and culture that champions hollow understandings of diversity and inclusion. <em>Drag Race</em> is no different. </p>
<p>It should come as no surprise then that Maddy Morphosis’s casting is a twist that overshadows more than six decades of documented queer performance art within carefully crafted safe spaces, all to establish the franchise’s first heterosexual cis contestant into the queer RUniverse.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="The cast of season 14, rupaul's drag race" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/445222/original/file-20220208-21-1q6jk5y.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">People are concerned about how Maddy Morphosis’s presence invades queer spaces.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(VH1)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Discomfort by Maddy Morphosis’s inclusion</h2>
<p>Recent discussions within the 2SLGBTQIA+ movement centre both the discomforts faced by members of these communities and addressing or remedying these discomforts. It is a tried-and-true cycle that continues to result in certain improvements to the community’s everyday life. </p>
<p>From mental health services to the right to get married, a series of grievances — and responses to these grievances — remain at the foundation of <a href="https://www.beyondintractability.org/casestudy/palaoro-LGBTQ">the movement’s ethos</a>, which traditionally seeks to provide care and a better quality of life for all members of the wider queer community. </p>
<p><em>Drag Race</em>’s recent addition to the franchise requires that we consider members of the community who feel genuine discomfort by Maddy Morphosis’s controversial inclusion. How can acute care and support be extended to those who identify as bisexual, pansexual, asexual, intersex or <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/04/style/drag-kings.html">drag kings</a>? </p>
<p>These are members of the wider community who have yet to see, and yearn for, meaningful discussion and representation to unfold around their identities on the show. </p>
<p>In a contemporary queer culture where burlesque superstar and <em>Drag Race</em> winner, <a href="https://instinctmagazine.com/rupaul-winner-violet-chachki-was-kicked-out-of-a-paris-sex-club-for-being-too-feminine/">Violet Chachki, is kicked out of a gay club because she does not exude a certain level of masculinity</a> — a reminder of how contemporary queer spaces and peoples can continue to <a href="https://twitter.com/violetchachki/status/914319126595801088?lang=en">uphold heterosexual norms and expectations</a> dictating sexuality and gender expression — it is time to address which issues the 2SLGBTQIA+ community and <em>Drag Race</em> should bring to the forefront on one of the queer community’s most influential platforms.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1488579974302945280"}"></div></p>
<h2>For the sake of shock-value</h2>
<p>The media’s obsession with shock value can emphasize the initial shock a possible scene or character might hold. Of equal importance is <a href="https://www.vox.com/identities/2019/6/22/18700875/lgbtq-good-ally">the ongoing debate</a> and hyperfocus on determining the values for being a meaningful ally to the 2SLGBTQIA+ community. </p>
<p>This season’s casting of Maddy Morphosis continues to reveal how shock is both material and playful, but also holds the immaterial potential to cause genuine harm and discomfort to some members of the 2SLGBTQIA+ community who eagerly await their chances to shine, inevitably trailing in the shadows of the franchise’s veneration of the first heterosexual cis contestant and ally. </p>
<p>That choice puts racialized queer histories, community discomfort and modes of allyship to the backseat all for the sake of shock-value inclusion.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/176326/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Theresa N. Kenney receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) through a Joseph-Armand Bombardier Doctoral Scholarship.</span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Linzey Corridon receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) through a Vanier Canada Graduate Scholarship.</span></em></p>
A straight cis-man could have made “herstory” as “America’s Next Drag Superstar.” Drag Race’s inclusion problem botches racialized queer histories, community discomfort and ally participation.
Theresa N. Kenney, PhD Candidate in English and Cultural Studies, McMaster University
Linzey Corridon, Vanier Scholar and PhD researcher, Department of English and Cultural Studies, McMaster University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/170362
2021-10-26T19:15:02Z
2021-10-26T19:15:02Z
The first bisexual Bachelorette and the messy history of bisexual representation on reality TV
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/428364/original/file-20211025-13-1llnaj9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=45%2C61%2C740%2C375&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Network 10</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Reality TV staple The Bachelor, and its various franchises, has been described as a “primetime harem fantasy” even though it ultimately presents a fairly conservative portrait of romance. </p>
<p>In its latest iteration, <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-05-20/brooke-blurton-becomes-first-indigenous-bisexual-bachelorette/100151510">The Bachelorette Australia</a> (Network 10 2021) is attempting to offer something refreshingly different through <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2021/oct/21/bachelorette-australias-first-brooke-blurton-episode-is-a-triumph-i-finally-have-my-church-back">the casting of Brooke Blurton</a>, a First Nations bisexual woman. Such casting necessitates a first for the franchise — casting both male and female contestants to vie for Blurton’s affections.</p>
<p>Having both male and female suitors was sold as a groundbreaking moment of representation. One contestant even says “we’re doing so much for our community” in the second episode. Is this indeed the case? The volume and quality of representation we have seen of LGBTIQ+ individuals, characters and communities has undoubtedly improved, though it is still rare enough for each one to be notable. </p>
<p>Of course, the stereotypes and issues surrounding representing bisexuality are different from, say, those surrounding gay men. And it is well established by decades of research that<a href="https://scholars.org/contribution/how-media-has-helped-change-public-views-about-lesbian-and-gay-people"> television representation plays a role in informing attitudes towards LGBTIQ+ individuals</a>. </p>
<h2>The long and reductive history of bisexual representation on television</h2>
<p>The Bachelorette is not the first series to present a bisexual individual on the small screen. 1990s bisexual representation on television was largely made up of ratings boosting kisses between a major female character and a non-recurring female character. In these cases, the major character’s interest in women was generally never mentioned again (think <a href="https://www.out.com/entertainment/2017/9/05/20-years-later-ally-mcbeals-queer-legalese-doesnt-always-go-down-easy">Ally McBeal</a>, Picket Fences and even <a href="https://ew.com/article/2001/04/27/why-friends-lesbian-kiss-was-lame-stunt/">Friends</a>). It was generally seen as a titillating or scandalous storyline, but not one that took representation or sexuality seriously.</p>
<p>Later on, series like Queer as Folk or The L Word, <a href="https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/shannonkeating/l-word-generation-q-showtime-tales-of-the-city-lesbian">tended to characterise male bisexuality as simply a stopover on the way to gayness</a>, with male bisexuals depicted as closeted or lying to themselves.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="InstagramEmbed" data-react-props="{"url":"https://www.instagram.com/p/CVZGO5NK9HY","accessToken":"127105130696839|b4b75090c9688d81dfd245afe6052f20"}"></div></p>
<p>Neither of these positions take bisexuality particularly seriously as an identity. In the last few years we have seen two really positive representations emerge in the form of <a href="https://www.vulture.com/2018/05/stephanie-beatriz-bisexual-awakening-on-screen-and-off.html">Rosa Diaz on Brooklyn 99</a> and <a href="https://fashionmagazine.com/flare/dan-levy-on-playing-pansexual-on-schitts-creek/">David Schitt on Schitt’s Creek</a>. Both of these characters built meaningful relationships with both men and women over the course of their seasons. And neither of them were defined purely by their sexuality.</p>
<p>In terms of reality dating television, as could perhaps be expected, representation of bisexuality has tended to emphasise sex. The casting of bisexual contestants can be seen to add an extra set of dimensions and complications. A recent example can be found in season 8 of MTV reality dating show Are You The One? (MTV 2019), which cast 16 male and female contestants who all identified as sexually fluid. </p>
<p>Perhaps the earliest reality dating series to feature both male and female contestants vying for a bisexual (female) lead was <a href="https://www.thestranger.com/slog/2020/05/29/43778180/a-shot-at-love-with-tila-tequila-is-unstreamable">A Shot at Love With Tila Tequila</a> (2007) and its 2008 sequel. In these series both male and female contestants were placed onto teams to compete for Tequila, who rose to fame as the <a href="https://www.digitaltrends.com/social-media/how-social-media-created-and-destroyed-tila-tequila/">most popular person on MySpace</a>. The game structure even leveraged one woman and one man into the finale for Tequila to pick between. This emphasises the unfortunately common perception that bisexuals need to “pick a team”, and furthermore, that audiences should feel personally invested in what “team” that might be.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/428378/original/file-20211025-25-1ufiuka.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A Shot At Love With Tila Tequila used bisexuality as a reality TV device.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDb</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The structure of reality dating shows with their emphasis on contest and conflict, tend to result in narratives that attempt to grab ratings with (often sexually charged) interactions between contestants. The issue with this is that it falls into a context of associating bisexuality with hypersexuality.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/is-the-bachelor-anti-feminist-or-is-conventional-heterosexual-romance-the-real-problem-81748">Is The Bachelor anti-feminist, or is conventional heterosexual romance the real problem?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Brooke Blurton and bisexuality in 2021</h2>
<p>The charming Brooke Blurton on The Bachelorette is characterised very differently from Tila Tequila. A statement from her, edited near the beginning of the premiere, asserts that she is interested in connections with individuals, rather than their gender. Thus eliminating the idea of there being a “team” for her to choose.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="InstagramEmbed" data-react-props="{"url":"https://www.instagram.com/p/CVPwkTVrnUs","accessToken":"127105130696839|b4b75090c9688d81dfd245afe6052f20"}"></div></p>
<p>There are signs, however, that the series is setting up a men vs women narrative regardless of this. The first episode sees the male and female contestants grouped in separate gazebos, and multiple comments are edited in that highlight the various insecurities about having more than one gender in the mix. Blurton herself is also presented on multiple occasions making comparisons between the “boys” and the “girls”. </p>
<p>Certainly conventional perceptions around gender are still held by contestants and casting, such as surprise about the women being romantically “bold”, and the casting of only very stereotypically feminine women as suitors (in contrast, a fan favourite and finalist in Tila Tequila’s show was a relatively butch lesbian firefighter).</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/if-you-are-the-one-and-the-bachelor-know-how-to-get-to-us-we-all-fear-dying-alone-49053">If You Are The One and The Bachelor know how to get to us: we all fear dying alone</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Osher Günsberg, The Bachelorette Australia’s host, is certainly self-congratulatory in his opening dialogue, asserting that Blurton’s presence on the show is a groundbreaking moment of representation. It is, however, hard not to see all this as a strategic move to attract younger viewers on the part of a franchise with rapidly dwindling ratings, that is struggling to compete with more contemporary series. The 2021 The Bachelor Australia, for example, <a href="https://www.news.com.au/entertainment/tv/reality-tv/the-bachelor/the-bachelor-2021-winner-announcement-airs-to-lowest-finale-ratings-ever/news-story/5727cc4965ad8c0b9a2381cba7c702c4">was its lowest rating season</a>, with the finale only attracting half the viewers of previous seasons. </p>
<p>Casting diversity appears to be a key part of this strategy. In the US in 2020 this has meant the 25th bachelor was the <a href="https://time.com/5926330/the-bachelor-diversity-matt-james/">first ever Black bachelor</a>. In Australia, Blurton is not only the first bisexual woman in the Bachelorette role, but also the first First Nations woman to appear on a major reality dating franchise. It is her sexuality, however, that offers the most change in terms of the actual “gameplay” of the series.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="InstagramEmbed" data-react-props="{"url":"https://www.instagram.com/p/CVPs7lhNg1K","accessToken":"127105130696839|b4b75090c9688d81dfd245afe6052f20"}"></div></p>
<p>While scripted series have managed to create complex portraits of bisexual desire, the broad brush strokes of reality dating series are probably still a way off being able to imagine a world where gender is not an “issue” of dating.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/170362/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Rebecca Beirne does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The new season of The Bachelorette Australia is making some historic firsts in the franchise when it comes to on-screen bisexual representation.
Rebecca Beirne, Senior Lecturer in Film, Media and Cultural Studies, University of Newcastle
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/165953
2021-09-07T04:52:09Z
2021-09-07T04:52:09Z
Iggy & Ace: a zany Aussie comedy about two gay best friends — and alcohol abuse
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416290/original/file-20210816-6629-iw77hv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=11%2C2%2C1905%2C1074&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">SBS</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Iggy & Ace, directed by Monica Zanetti and AB Morrison.</em></p>
<p>Iggy & Ace is the story of two gay best friends — and their drinking habits. Their favourite hobbies are happy hour pub crawls and getting wasted on wine while watching Bondi Rescue. As far as they’re concerned, life is sweet. But a panic attack while hungover at work makes Ace (Josh Virgona) wonder if this is healthy. </p>
<p>Delirious and trying to change, he signs up for a sobriety support program — much to the horror of Iggy (Sara West).</p>
<p>In many ways, Iggy & Ace is a zany drama-comedy blend about recovery and friendship. But this series is also committed to portraying the rough ups and downs of addiction, toxic friendships, grief, trauma and love.</p>
<p>It’s a wild ride, but one certainly worth taking, even if your brain might start screaming it wants to get off at the most emotional and visceral low points. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/cCWsoM_nQy4?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>Real people; real heart</h2>
<p>There’s something satisfying about how grimy, disastrous and flawed Ace and Iggy are allowed to be. It is validating to see the viscera of messy queer experience. </p>
<p>The series feels wonderfully like a queer story for a queer audience: authentically depicting the human problems of its gay protagonists without playing into familiar media stereotypes, and without being afraid to colour outside the lines.</p>
<p>All the queer characters in this series are heightened for comedy, yet also feel very real. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A man and a woman in brightly-coloured windcheaters, staring in silent awe into a party scene" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416288/original/file-20210816-17-1azn5e3.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The characters are all very heightened, but also all very real.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">SBS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Iggy is a rude, self-destructive disaster of a woman in deep denial about her own traumas. Ace is insecure and impressionable, prone to impulse decisions and easily distracted by instant gratification. </p>
<p>There’s also Iggy and Ace’s mentor, self-described “dying queen” Otto (Dalip Sondhi), who is constantly snorting cocaine (with the help of an elegant and irritable non-binary carer, played by Aiden Hawke) and reminiscing about the old days. </p>
<p>There’s Justine (Joanna Tu), Iggy’s long-suffering girlfriend, who’s just trying to make it as an artist and stick to her vegan diet. There’s Gwen (Roz Hammond), the frazzled older lesbian doing her best to hold the sober support group together while everyone’s personal drama piles up at her door. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A man and a woman pose for a selfie in a bottle shop, both wearing pointy sunglasses" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416287/original/file-20210816-19-ydpx3t.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Platonic friendship is at the core of Iggy & Ace.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">SBS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The centrality of platonic friendship to Iggy & Ace is also refreshing. </p>
<p>The friendship between the titular characters is nothing idyllic: in fact, its toxicity is portrayed in loving detail. They’re a terrible twosome; and they’re rarely apart. They’re housemates, workmates and drinking buddies joined at the hip flask. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/no-more-than-10-standard-drinks-a-week-or-4-on-any-day-new-guidelines-urge-aussies-to-go-easy-on-the-booze-151595">No more than 10 standard drinks a week, or 4 on any day: new guidelines urge Aussies to go easy on the booze</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Their friendship begins to fracture when Ace attempts to get healthy. Iggy resents Ace for his transgressions, particularly because they reveal her own problems. </p>
<p>“You can’t be an alcoholic,” she assures Ace when she finds out he’s been secretly attending the sober program. “Because you don’t drink any more than I do.”</p>
<h2>Comedy through tragedy</h2>
<p>Through the conflict between its characters, the series paints a harrowing picture — though, again, peppered with comedy — of how alcohol dependency can take hold. </p>
<p>Social drinking is a huge part of Australian culture and alcohol consumption has become a crutch for Iggy as she avoids her pressing emotional issues. </p>
<p>Iggy and Ace have fun when they drink, yet it also makes them miserable. It’s a vicious cycle that the writing captures with almost flinch-worthy authenticity. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A man sits on the edge of a bed looking ahead with a serious expression. Behind him, a woman sits in the shadows" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/416289/original/file-20210816-27-qsiqu5.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">While it is a comedy, Iggy & Ace also looks at addiction with unflinching honesty.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">SBS</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Iggy, for all her early awfulness, is never portrayed as a wholly or inherently bad person. She and her coping mechanisms are treated with the weight they deserve, and she’s allowed to be — in Ace’s words — a “complete arsehole” without being reduced to the villain of the piece. She is hardly a role model, but she is a gloriously complicated fictional lesbian. We need more stories about women like her.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/queer-young-adult-fiction-isnt-all-gloomy-realism-here-are-5-uplifting-books-to-get-you-started-141125">Queer young adult fiction isn't all gloomy realism. Here are 5 uplifting books to get you started</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Iggy & Ace is equally funny and painful. Released as six ten-minute episodes, the hour takes you on a rollercoaster journey with the characters and their personal and interpersonal disasters, and the ending is an effective gut punch of tragicomedy. </p>
<p>It is absolutely worth diving into this show, though consume responsibly. Alternatively, binge the whole thing then lie on your living room floor letting it all soak in.</p>
<p><em>Iggy & Ace is streaming on SBS OnDemand from Thursday.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/165953/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alex Henderson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
There’s something satisfying about how grimy, disastrous and flawed Ace and Iggy are allowed to be in this new SBS web series.
Alex Henderson, PhD Candidate in Literary Studies and Creative Writing, University of Canberra
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/166735
2021-09-01T20:09:53Z
2021-09-01T20:09:53Z
Watching It’s a Sin under lockdown: a different kind of home shaped by life-saving queer friendships
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418781/original/file-20210901-17-5xxtyp.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=136%2C10%2C959%2C645&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Olly Alexander (Ritchie) on left, Omari Douglas (Roscoe) and Callum Scott Howells (Colin) in It's a Sin.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em><a href="https://theconversation.com/au/topics/lockdown-tv-108838">Our writers nominate</a> the TV series keeping them entertained during a time of COVID.</em></p>
<p>Binge watching a gut-wrenching story about the early years of the HIV/AIDS epidemic might seem like a strange choice in Sydney right now. What possible solace could be found in a story about a group of young friends in 1980s London who found their joyful steps towards the creation of a queer world fractured by fear and death? </p>
<p>I rewatched the five-part British TV series It’s a Sin in lockdown recently, and the sorrow that reverberates through the show resonated a little more potently than it did on my first viewing earlier this year. It also, though, in its elaboration of joyful possibilities fractured by an epidemic, helped me make sense of some of the intangible losses of lockdown. </p>
<p>As counsellor <a href="https://theconversation.com/its-ok-if-you-have-a-little-cry-in-lockdown-youre-grieving-165329">Neeraja Sanmuhanathan has written</a>, many in lockdown are feeling “disenfranchised grief”. Yet even naming these feelings risks insensitivity, because others are dealing with grief much more difficult to bear.</p>
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<p>New South Wales Premier Gladys Berejiklian speaks from a rhetorical playbook of unity, discipline and shared citizenship obligations to compel Sydneysiders to stay at home under lockdown. It’s a Sin can help us consider how the sorrows and hardships of these obligations are unevenly distributed, for they depend on what your home looks like, and whether it is your primary source of nourishment and care.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/think-of-it-this-way-at-least-youre-not-locked-down-with-drunken-misanthropic-bookshop-owner-bernard-black-166173">Think of it this way: at least you're not locked down with drunken, misanthropic bookshop owner Bernard Black</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Queer networks</h2>
<p>It’s A Sin opens in 1981. A group of young Londoners find their way to each other and a queer life as new forms of social visibility are being carved out from the grip of homophobic discrimination and sentiment. </p>
<p>We soon come to love, even if they sometimes behave a little poorly, Olly (a star-making turn from <a href="https://ew.com/tv/olly-alexander-pride-its-a-sin-years-and-years/">Year and Years frontman</a> Olly Alexander), Roscoe (Omari Douglas), Colin (Callum Scott Howells) and Jill (Lydia West) as their lives converge in a share house, “the Pink Palace”, which becomes the emotional centre of the story.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=596&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=596&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=596&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=749&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=749&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418362/original/file-20210830-20-11nor0j.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=749&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Omari Douglas in It’s a Sin.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>They are a diverse lot, both in ambition and background. All, in different ways, seek to escape the futures mapped for them by others, although what they would like to become is much less clear.</p>
<p>Exuberant confusions and experiments are at the centre of the first few episodes. I challenge anyone not to be totally undone by Colin’s endearing uncertainties as he takes tentative steps into homosexual worlds. We see parties, drinks at the pub, exciting intimacies. And The Pink Palace develops its own tender traditions and vocabularies; the housemates exclaim “La” to each other as they enter and exit the house. These are the everyday familiarities that feel like a hug of recognition.</p>
<p>Rather than a world organised by biological family and the romantic couple, friendship is sovereign here. These new kinds of friendship prioritise pleasure and joy. They are full of disordering excitements that produce new ways to understand their world.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=304&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=304&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=304&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=382&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=382&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418779/original/file-20210901-15-mxfbuv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=382&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Friendship is sovereign in The Pink Palace.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This is why the emergence of HIV/AIDS, which haunts the show from the first episode, feels so tragic. Just as historical change produced the possibility of forging queer public worlds — spaces for dissident desires — an epidemic ravaged them, unleashing fresh waves of homophobia. </p>
<p>Created by Russell T. Davies, each episode of It’s a Sin takes place a few years apart, tracing the impact of the epidemic on queer lives over a decade. We watch these tentative worlds shattered first by fear, then by death, doubly punished by a state that refused to help. In the UK and US, gay men in the early years of the epidemic were seen as a problem to be managed and a sin to be expunged rather than partners in the possible response.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=350&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=350&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=350&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418777/original/file-20210901-13-1pm7ea9.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=440&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">New intimacies are forged.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There are lessons here about the importance of engaging with — rather than disciplining and policing — communities. The <a href="http://press-files.anu.edu.au/downloads/press/n5314/pdf/ch02.pdf">“Australian-Response”</a> to HIV/AIDS was hailed as a success because the state engaged with and learnt from those vulnerable to the disease to develop community-led policy. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-recognising-the-unsung-heroes-of-australias-aids-crisis-81030">Friday essay: recognising the unsung heroes of Australia's AIDS crisis</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Part of the mastery of the show is that we, as viewers, share the fears of these young men and their friends. We know what is coming, even if they don’t. We find ourselves wondering who from the Pink Palace and their friends will be struck down. </p>
<p>In one episode, one of the housemates is forcibly and legally detained in hospital after his diagnosis. His mother and friends hire a lawyer to release him so he might be cared for by those who understand him.</p>
<p>Watching this makes for difficult viewing. Queer networks, however, power the show. They hold those who are sick, comfort those who are stricken by loss, and politically mobilise to force the state to act. They share grief with parents who lose their sons, holding to account families whose love turned out to be conditional. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=289&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418363/original/file-20210830-31-z6v7lv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Queer networks power the show, politically mobilising where needed.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This is queer intimacy as life-saving. </p>
<p>This is friendship as primary nourishment and radical politics.</p>
<h2>Less rigid boundaries</h2>
<p>The emotional and narrative centre of It’s a Sin is a home. But this home looks quite different to the one our leaders today might imagine when they issue stay-at-home orders — almost always referring to a family when doing so. It’s certainly not organised around a couple (and the children).</p>
<p>The boundaries around the Pink Palace are porous, people come and go, and you never know who might be at the breakfast table. It is, however, affirming in its instabilities. For Roscoe, this home is an escape from a familial home that was a place of violent rejection.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=346&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=346&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=346&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/418780/original/file-20210901-17-1u6d80s.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=435&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Roscoe (Omari Davis) flees a violent, rejecting familial home.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Red Production Company</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>And that, I think, highlights the challenge facing so many queers in lockdown today. Queer lives are often organised around friendships, (as indeed are many others not oriented around a romantic couple). Boundaries around queer homes may be less rigidly drawn. The intimacies and communities that sustain living queer, enabling joyful exploration of who we might become with each other, are often forged both within and beyond the walls of our home. </p>
<p>This is why so many queer friends I know are struggling. Lockdown hasn’t simply shut down our capacity to dance and have fun, or to have casual (and thus apparently meaningless) sex. It has turned the spaces beyond our homes, in which we nourish our queer selves, into sites of danger. It has turned having your friends over and snuggling on the couch into a breach of duty. </p>
<p>Which is to say, much like the HIV/AIDS epidemic, the impact of lockdown is being felt unevenly and with different effects. </p>
<p>On the release of It’s a Sin, there was much public discussion about the ways in which this show re-imagined the experience of HIV/AIDS for a generation far enough removed from the early years of the epidemic to understand it as history rather than experience. </p>
<p>Watching this series now, though, I find myself mourning the everyday, public, and non-familial intimacies of queer life lost to us during lockdown. It might not have provided solace, but it has helped me to explain my sense of loss. </p>
<p>It also made me wail. And perhaps having a good cry is what many of us need.</p>
<p><em>It’s a Sin is showing on Stan.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/166735/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Leigh Boucher receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>
The emotional centre of British TV series It’s a Sin is a home. But this home looks quite different to the one our leaders might imagine when they issue stay-at-home orders.
Leigh Boucher, Senior Lecturer – Modern History, Macquarie University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/162150
2021-06-04T12:28:06Z
2021-06-04T12:28:06Z
Are companies that support Pride and other social causes ‘wokewashing’?
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/404362/original/file-20210603-15-1ck70sr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">People with the Pride Alliance Network, sponsored by Starbucks, walk along Ocean Drive during the 11th annual Pride Parade as part of Miami Beach Pride week on April 7, 2019, in Miami Beach, Florida.
</span> </figcaption></figure><p>Consumers increasingly want companies to <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/dangingiss/2019/02/11/study-consumers-blame-government-for-dividing-the-nation-but-look-to-brands-to-fix-it/#2c91af526ac4">address society’s big problems</a>, such as <a href="https://www.marketingweek.com/erin-lyons-ad-industry-address-climate-change/">climate change</a> and <a href="https://www.marketingdive.com/news/53-of-consumers-believe-brands-can-do-more-to-solve-social-problems-than-g/538925/">crumbling infrastructure</a>. And polls suggest <a href="https://www.accenture.com/_acnmedia/Thought-Leadership-Assets/PDF/Accenture-CompetitiveAgility-GCPR-POV.pdf">more than half</a> say they want to buy from <a href="https://sproutsocial.com/insights/data/social-media-connection/">brands that take stands on social issues</a>.</p>
<p>At the same time, consumers are <a href="https://marketingland.com/brands-strive-for-authenticity-as-audiences-turn-a-skeptical-eye-toward-ads-236295">increasingly skeptical about these partnerships</a> – such as <a href="https://twistedfood.co.uk/food-drink-support-pride-month">corporate</a> <a href="https://taggmagazine.com/corporate-pride-support/">sponsorships</a> of LGBTQ Pride Month – and instead see them as marketing stunts rather than acts of genuine activism. This is called “wokewashing.”</p>
<p>I’m a <a href="https://scholar.google.com/citations?hl=en&user=gOU_fuEAAAAJ&view_op=list_works&sortby=pubdate">professor of brand responsibility</a>, and my forthcoming research investigates brands and their relationships with social issues, including the importance of both corporate allies and advocates.</p>
<h2>Allies or advocates</h2>
<p>In marketing terms, allies are members of a dominant social group that <a href="https://doi.org/10.33043/JSACP.8.1.17-33">bring attention to important social issues</a>.</p>
<p>A company can serve as an ally when it works to increase awareness about issues affecting marginalized groups. Advocates take a more active role, working to change <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20100402225054/http://www.npaction.org/article/articleview/76/1/248">political, economic and social systems</a>.</p>
<p>Companies can be advocates when they create campaigns to promote institutional change and provide financial support for groups engaged in creating social change. </p>
<p>Yoplait’s campaign to address <a href="https://econsultancy.com/five-brand-campaigns-that-took-a-stand-on-social-issues/">patronizing attitudes toward moms</a> is an example of corporate advocacy. Another is <a href="https://water.org/stellaartois/">Stella Artois’ partnership with Water.org</a> to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHnVMfjFMVs">end the global water crisis</a>, which has provided clean drinking water to over 2 million people so far.</p>
<h2>Pride Month</h2>
<p>However, corporate adventures into social issues aren’t always well-thought-out or -received.</p>
<p>For example, consider corporate involvement in annual Pride Month celebrations. In 2019, the number of brands participating in Pride reached <a href="https://adage.com/article/cmo-strategy/how-brands-are-showing-their-pride-month/2176256">an all-time high</a>. Brands including <a href="http://www.sfpride.org/">T-Mobile, Alaska Airlines</a> and MasterCard featured <a href="https://twitter.com/WunThompson/status/1138187421009436672">supportive messages</a> and <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/these-30-brands-are-celebrating-pride-giving-back-lgbt-community-1441707">announced donations</a> to support the queer community.</p>
<p>Some don’t welcome large-brand sponsorships to Pride, arguing that sponsorships take the focus away from <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/jul/02/brands-rainbow-queasy-but-bring-lgbt-lives-into-mainstream-skittles-gay">issues of LGBTQ marginalization</a>. These brands are not seen as authentic advocates, as they were not contributing directly to LGBTQ causes but instead portrayed as paying for exposure.</p>
<p>These critics argue that brands don’t really care about the community, pointing to a lack of supportive messages <a href="https://www.redstate.com/brandon_morse/2019/06/04/dear-lgbt-community-corporations-dont-care/">throughout the rest of the year</a>.</p>
<p>There are also concerns from members of the community that brands support Pride while taking political <a href="https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2019/06/28/pride-marketing-benefits-lgbtq-community-corporate-america/1511433001/">stances that harm the LGBTQ community</a>. For example, <a href="https://www.equinox.com/poweredbypride">Equinox</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4K-K4dxh84">SoulCycle</a>, which have sponsored Pride, faced a consumer boycott in August 2019 after the chairman of their parent company said he was <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/equinox-boycott-calls-customers-threaten-equinox-and-soulcycle-boycott-over-trump-fundraiser/">hosting a fundraiser for then-President Donald Trump</a>, who advocates say is anti-LGBTQ.</p>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1159187673388670983"}"></div></p>
<h2>The importance of allies</h2>
<p>Some companies may <a href="https://www.marketingdive.com/news/the-year-of-woke-washing-how-tone-deaf-activism-risks-eroding-brands/557606/">use causes to pander to consumers</a> and <a href="https://thesocialelement.agency/brand-purpose-woke-washing/">deserve to be called out</a>, but my research shows that corporate allies and advocates can have an important role in society.</p>
<p>Engagement through both allyship and advocacy continue to be important to keep issues in the spotlight to effect significant social change.</p>
<p>I’m finding in my research that brands’ connecting with social issues can be a win-win: Consumers become aware of important social issues that may lack media exposure, and brands connect with like-minded consumers in a more authentic way.</p>
<p><em>This is an updated version of an article originally published on <a href="https://theconversation.com/companies-promoting-causes-can-be-accused-of-wokewashing-allying-themselves-only-for-good-pr-120962">Aug. 19, 2019</a>.</em></p>
<p>[<em>Over 106,000 readers rely on The Conversation’s newsletter to understand the world.</em> <a href="https://theconversation.com/us/newsletters/the-daily-3?utm_source=TCUS&utm_medium=inline-link&utm_campaign=newsletter-text&utm_content=100Ksignup">Sign up today</a>.]</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/162150/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kim Sheehan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
While many companies promote social causes, advocates are skeptical of how genuine their commitment is.
Kim Sheehan, Professor of Journalism and Communication and Director of the Master's Program in Brand Responsibility, University of Oregon
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/159918
2021-04-29T04:14:25Z
2021-04-29T04:14:25Z
Sashay or stay — will RuPaul’s Drag Race Down Under erase Australia’s ‘ocker’ drag past?
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397715/original/file-20210429-19-jzv4n7.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=9%2C25%2C1524%2C697&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stan, World of Wonder Productions </span></span></figcaption></figure><p>RuPaul’s Drag Race Down Under will premiere <a href="https://www.nine.com.au/entertainment/latest/rupauls-drag-race-down-under-premiere-date-australia-stan-how-to-watch/605bbe2a-172a-440a-9109-44c7567e6332">on Stan</a> this Saturday. The Australian-New Zealand version of the global <a href="https://rupaul.com/">reality TV juggernaut</a> will share an Antipodean mode of drag with audiences around the world.</p>
<p>Veteran drag star RuPaul created Drag Race in 2009 for niche US cable channel Logo TV. It parodies reality TV competitions such as America’s Next Top Model, with a group of drag queens competing across various performance-related challenges to be (literally) crowned the next “Drag Superstar”. </p>
<p>RuPaul has since built up a <a href="https://www.clickorlando.com/entertainment/2020/06/26/rupaul-built-a-drag-empire-now-its-time-to-pay-attention/">media empire</a>. The show, which moved to the mainstream US channel VH1 in 2017, has had successful spin offs in the <a href="https://get.rupaulsdragraceuk.com/">UK</a>, <a href="https://www.wowpresentsplus.com/canada-s-drag-race">Canada</a>, <a href="https://rupaulsdragrace.fandom.com/wiki/Drag_Race_Thailand_(Season_1)">Thailand</a> and <a href="https://www.wowpresentsplus.com/drag-race-holland">Holland</a>.</p>
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<p>Drag Race has relocated drag culture from the fringes of society, making it a legitimate art form, lifestyle, and path to celebrity. However, the show has also been critiqued for <a href="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1007/978-3-319-50618-0">ridiculing certain ethnicities</a> as well as for <a href="https://www.nbcnews.com/feature/nbc-out/transgender-women-drag-race-rupaul-s-remarks-spawn-backlash-n854066">excluding trans performers</a>. Responding to this criticism, more recently, Drag Race contestants have included <a href="https://rupaulsdragrace.fandom.com/wiki/Category:Transgender_Queens">trans women </a>and (so far) one <a href="https://www.them.us/story/rupauls-drag-race-first-openly-trans-male-contestant-gottmik">trans man</a>.</p>
<p>Until now, only the US and UK versions have featured RuPaul and his “Best Judy” Michelle Visage as judges. Drag Race Down Under will also have this fierce duo on its main judging panel along with Australian comedian Rhys Nicholson. Both Australian and New Zealand drag queens will compete, with guest judges including singer Kylie Minogue and Kiwi film director Taika Waititi.</p>
<p>Having been accused of <a href="https://www.vulture.com/2019/06/drag-race-inc-whats-lost-when-a-subculture-goes-pop.html">mainstreaming drag</a>, eliminating its subversive impetus, it will be intriguing to see how this slick show — built on US histories of drag — approaches the Australian drag tradition.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/rupauls-drag-race-is-inventing-a-whole-new-internet-subculture-and-language-123213">RuPaul's Drag Race is inventing a whole new internet subculture and language</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
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<h2>A blokey culture</h2>
<p>In Australia, drag queens have tended to have an <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ocker">“ocker” </a>sensibility, which has made them perhaps surprisingly welcome within a blokey culture.</p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=938&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1178&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1178&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397720/original/file-20210429-23-vvtql1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1178&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Early straight drag: Aunty Jack (centre).</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There is an important difference, however, between the queer drag that drag queens perform and straight drag. Queer drag is aligned with LGBTQ+ communities and can powerfully reject the constraints of gender norms. In contrast, straight drag usually entails heterosexual men dressing up in feminine clothing for the sake of comedy — and it can be used to mock women. </p>
<p>Australian screen culture reflects the place of both these forms of drag in broader Australian society. </p>
<p>Australian TV has long featured straight drag. Early on, it often did so by imitating the English tradition of pantomime dames.</p>
<p>For instance, in the 1970s, the TV character <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vIqqiK4ncfs">Aunty Jack</a> sported a blue velvet dress, a moustache and one golden boxing glove.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vIqqiK4ncfs?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>Dame Edna Everage was also born of this tradition. Played by straight cis man Barry Humphries, Edna first appeared on TV in the 1950s as a character <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3veBnqezQo">satirising suburban Australian housewives</a>. She went on to become a <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bx5GZT1z_u4">larger-than-life “Dame” with sequined cat-eye glasses</a>.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-barry-humphries-humour-is-now-history-thats-the-fate-of-topical-satirical-comedy-117499">Friday essay: Barry Humphries' humour is now history – that's the fate of topical, satirical comedy</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In Australia the practice of straight drag is also associated with laddish behaviour. Certainly, the burly blokes on <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tyVxoeW3LFI">The Footy Show</a> were notorious for donning women’s garb for comedy sketches.</p>
<p>Despite stark differences between the two, queer drag and straight drag are often unusually interconnected in Australia because both feature aspects of the “ocker”.</p>
<p>While queer drag is celebrated in LGBTQ+ bars and clubs every night, straight venues around Australia — including <a href="https://dqbatcurrumbinrsl173.floktu.com/">RSLs</a> and <a href="https://newmatilda.com/2019/02/26/outback-tour-5-drag-bingo-palace-punters-guide-avoiding-humiliation/">rural pubs</a> — also regularly host queer drag queens.</p>
<p>Queer drag also looms large in Australia’s collective consciousness. Notably, in the 1960s, the queer cabaret troupe <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANNS3Ps1BLg">Les Girls in Sydney’s Kings Cross</a> became a “must see” spectacle for mainstream Australia. These glamorous performers appeared to be beautiful women but were all queer men dolled up in wigs, makeup, sequins and feathers.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/ANNS3Ps1BLg?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>The most famous Les Girls showgirl was the busty “bombshell” <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vV8rQVDGkgA&t=36s">Carlotta</a>. In the 1970s, she also became Australia’s first transgender celebrity. Carlotta has performed drag throughout the country for more than 50 years and remains a revered queer figure. </p>
<p>Discussing how queer drag became so accepted in blokey Australian contexts, Carlotta has said Australian drag queens are unique because they <a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Gender_and_Australian_Celebrity_Culture.html?id=i6oLEAAAQBAJ&source=kp_book_description&redir_esc=y">“have that ‘ocker-ish’ sense of humour and it related to most Australians”</a>.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vV8rQVDGkgA?wmode=transparent&start=36" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Carlotta was an <a href="https://www.illawarramercury.com.au/story/6001360/carlotta-to-dazzle-in-the-wollongong-spiegeltent/">inspiration</a> for the international hit film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0109045/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert</a>, in which three Sydney drag queens travel through the outback on a lavender bus, performing drag in remote locales.</p>
<p>It presents striking juxtapositions between <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wGWWeourHUg">the queens’ elaborate, shiny costumes and the red Australian desert</a>. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/wGWWeourHUg?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>These iconic drag queens also enact a conspicuously Aussie sense of irreverent humour that is validated by the “ocker” characters around them.</p>
<p>For instance drag queen Bernadette is enthusiastically applauded in a rural pub of rugged blokes when she retorts to an aggressive woman: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Now listen here, you mullet. Why don’t you just light your tampon and blow your box apart, because it’s the only bang you’re ever going to get, sweetheart. </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Priscilla solidified “ocker” drag queens as representative of an Australian brand of queer drag.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=331&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/397718/original/file-20210429-21-13ab7no.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=416&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Down Under references Priscilla’s look.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">World of Wonder Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Drag Race Down Under’s <a href="https://www.stan.com.au/watch/rupauls-drag-race-down-under?gclsrc=aw.ds&ds_rl=1263226&gclid=CjwKCAjwj6SEBhAOEiwAvFRuKOc6_0R7d-xlubRuBTcsiLToaH6ApJY97hv0RavqOdB6F8kCKastqBoCYP0QAvD_BwE">trailer</a> directly invokes imagery from Priscilla, positioning the flamboyant contestants against a desert highway with a yellow road sign warning of kangaroos.</p>
<p>However, this new season is yet to reveal just how “ocker” Aussie Drag Race queens can be.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/159918/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Joanna McIntyre does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Drag Down Under airs this Saturday. It will be intriguing to see how this slick TV show — built on US histories of drag — approaches the Australian drag tradition.
Joanna McIntyre, Lecturer in Media Studies, Swinburne University of Technology
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/155964
2021-03-04T19:23:57Z
2021-03-04T19:23:57Z
Friday essay: hidden in plain sight — Australian queer men and women before gay liberation
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387127/original/file-20210302-13-1a4ucaj.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=4%2C0%2C797%2C824&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">A mug shot of Neville McQuade (aged 18) and Lewis Stanley Keith (aged 19), taken at North Sydney Police Station in June 1942.
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sydney Living Museums</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>It’s Sydney Lesbian and Gay Mardi Gras festival time. LGBTQI people are enjoying what some call “gay or lesbian Christmas”. It’s not quite the same in the era of COVID, but <a href="https://www.mardigras.org.au/events/parade">a contained version of the famous street parade</a> will be beamed into living rooms on Saturday. </p>
<p>The public face of Mardi Gras, which began in 1978 with a protest parade, is remarkable in a nation that has been deeply prejudiced toward gay and lesbian people. Part of the power of Mardi Gras for older generations was that it removed queer sexualities from the “secret” confines of semi-legal bar and club locations and private parties to the public street. Being on the front page of the newspaper no longer meant you might be going to jail.</p>
<p>Still, Australian queer people did not suddenly emerge in the 1960s and 70s, the years of gay liberation. Where were they before and how can they be identified? Because male homosexuality was criminalised, much can be discovered from the press and crime reports. Letters, memoirs, diaries, art, photographs and the memories of gay, lesbian, and transgender people also provide clues. </p>
<h2>From the bush to the boudoir</h2>
<p>The Australian colonies were marked by a shortage of women and the dominance of homosocial environments. Francis Forbes, former Chief Justice in the colony, when questioned at the so-called <a href="https://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/convict-sydney/molsworth-report">Molesworth inquiry into convict transportation in the 1830s</a>, had to admit Sydney <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/27508924?seq=1">“had been called a Sodom”</a>. Sodomy in the Tasmanian coal mines was also <a href="https://www.monash.edu/arts/philosophical-historical-international-studies/eras/past-editions/edition-six-2004-november/space-sexuality-and-convict-resistance-in-van-diemens-land-the-limits-of-repression">the subject of a British government inquiry</a>. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/debauchery-on-the-fatal-shore-the-sex-lives-of-australias-convicts-88321">Debauchery on the fatal shore: the sex lives of Australia's convicts</a>
</strong>
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<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386963/original/file-20210301-17-ehog2p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Andrew George Scott, alias Captain Moonlite.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There is evidence of what historian Robert Aldrich calls “conjoined” same-sex male couples in 19th-century Australia, including the famous bushranger <a href="https://www.themonthly.com.au/issue/2015/november/1446296400/jeff-sparrow/queer-bushranger#mtr">Captain Moonlite</a> (Andrew George Scott). As he waited to be hanged in Darlinghurst Jail in 1880, he wrote of his fellow ranger James Nesbitt: “We were one in heart and soul, he died in my arms and I long to join him …”</p>
<p>Homosexuality was often associated with foreigners and cosmopolitan affectation. George Francis Alexander Seymour, future Marquess of Hertford, lived in Queensland briefly around 1895. Likely inspired by international dance sensation <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loie_Fuller">Loie Fuller</a>, he shocked locals by wearing sequins and a veil for “skirt dancing” performances in front of “kanakas” (South Pacific men coerced to work in the canefields). </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=851&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387615/original/file-20210303-21-1bm30wv.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1069&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">George Francis Alexander Seymour, future Marquess of Hertford, dancing.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">National Library of Australia.</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p><a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/beauchamp-seventh-earl-5174">William Lygon</a>, later 7th Earl Beauchamp — the governor of New South Wales for a short time from 1899 — travelled with a retinue of good-looking footmen and lavished praise on the natural grace of Australian athletes and lifesavers. </p>
<p>He was disgraced as a homosexual by his brother-in-law in 1931 and became the subject of the famous statement by King George V: “I thought people like that always shot themselves.”</p>
<p>He <a href="https://www.english-heritage.org.uk/learn/histories/lgbtq-history/walmer-castle-and-homosexuality/">subsequently inspired</a> the famous novel by Evelyn Waugh, Brideshead Revisited.</p>
<h2>Interwar life: fashion and fancy</h2>
<p>In the inter-war years, there was a marked queer presence in the worlds of Australian art, design, entertainment and retail. This was the period of art deco and Australian “genteel modernism”. Art Deco (called moderne or futurist style at the time) was inseparable from fashion and fantasy and frequently derided as an effeminate style — it has even been called the “International Style in drag”. </p>
<p>Cultural nationalist and the director of Melbourne’s National Gallery of Victoria from 1936–1941, J. S. MacDonald, claimed this type of art and design had been promoted by women and “pansies”, meaning homosexual men.</p>
<p>Smith’s Weekly, The Bulletin and the New Triad mocked the “wasp waists” and “goo goo boys” who worked in retail and enjoyed theatre. </p>
<p>Some queers worked as entertainers or drag queens. In NSW this was a summary offence of indecency (still used by police in the 1970s). Drag queens and cross-dressers had to wear male underwear or else risk arrest. </p>
<p>Cross-dressing was also associated at the time with <a href="https://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/exhibitions/city-shadows">street prostitution</a>. A police mugshot from 1942 shows two cross-dressed male sex workers wearing women’s coats, one with huge rabbit-fur-trimmed sleeves, as well as a turban and makeup. The men still look very male and defiant, suggesting a part of their sexual charge came from precisely this lack of ambiguity; it was clear they were not women.</p>
<p>Clearly annoyed, one of the pair remarked to the tabloid Truth:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>We were bundled out of the police cell, and snapped immediately. My friend and I had no chance to fix our hair or arrange our make-up. We were half asleep and my turban was on the wrong side.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Gay male artists and commercial designers in Sydney lived their queer lives discreetly on moderate incomes. The flower painter <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/feint-adrian-george-10161">Adrian Feint</a>, who lived in Elizabeth Bay, produced many bookplates depicting languid young men with a queer mood. </p>
<p>His disguised self-portrait etching of a dandy entitled The Collector (1925) carried the suggestion of eye and lip makeup, depicting archaic Edwardian dress, a top hat, a cane, plaid suit and cape.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=442&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386958/original/file-20210301-14-geq1e6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=556&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Adrian Feint’s disguised self portrait.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>His remarkable cover for the upmarket magazine The Home (July 1929) featured a “Rum Corps” officer whom Feint transformed into a languid, heavily made-up beauty, recalling both the Ballets Russes, who were touring Australia, and the famous queer movie star Rudolph Valentino. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=784&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/386960/original/file-20210301-14-3yltvc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=986&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cover of The Home journal, Volume 7 No.10. July 1 1929, designed by Adrian Feint.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Wikimedia Commons</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The culture of hedonism, promiscuity, heavy drinking, pub life and mixed-class socialising that characterised life in the colonies pervaded Australian gay life until recently. Pubs and clubs were crude, brash and fun. Bohemian ideas were also important. All sorts of behaviour were excused at the <a href="http://melbourneblogger.blogspot.com/2013/10/lascivious-artists-balls-1900-1939.html">Artists’ Balls</a>, which were held in Sydney from the 1920s until 1964. Gay balls were often accompanied by a blind orchestra (not unusual at the time due to war injuries) so the goings on could not be observed.</p>
<p>A 1925 sketch by Mandi McCrae of one such ball in The Home, September 1925, delineates a transsexual, two men with arms akimbo, and several gender-indeterminate figures. The press loved running stories of cross-dressed men whose dresses were so large they had to arrive in delivery vans. One told of a live bird in a cage worn as a Marie Antoinette-style headdress.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387614/original/file-20210303-13-fshizu.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A sketch of an Artist’s Ball from The Home, September 1925.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Urban subcultures</h2>
<p>In the interwar years, a queer urban subculture coalesced for the first time in Sydney around art deco sites and buildings: city hotels, the Archibald Fountain by night for cruising, and the new high-density housing of Kings Cross, Potts Point, Darlinghurst and East Sydney. </p>
<figure class="align-left zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387600/original/file-20210303-19-r6u2f1.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">High density housing helped foster the bachelor life.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Peter McNeil</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Boonara, a middle-class block of flats in Woollahra, built by a widow and a “spinster” in 1918, was let only to women and one male artist, <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/lister-william-lister-604">William Lister Lister</a>. Restaurants catering to a homosexual clientele included Madame Pura’s Latin Cafe in the now demolished Royal Arcade. </p>
<p>Many Australian artists and writers became expatriate in this period to escape wowserism, censorship and the anti-art tenor of Australian society. They included Nobel winning novelist Patrick White, who conducted one of the great same-sex love affairs with Manoly Lascaris from 1941 until White’s death in 1990. White spent his youth in England, writing from a desk designed by the queer interior decorator and later famed artist Francis Bacon.</p>
<p>Back home in the 1940s, a group of queer artists, dancers and designers lived in Merioola, a run-down mansion in Edgecliff known then as “Buggery Barn”. They included artists <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/friend-donald-stuart-leslie-12516">Donald Friend</a> and <a href="https://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/exhibitions/justin-obrien/">Justin O'Brien</a>, acclaimed costume designer <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/sainthill-loudon-11602">Loudon Sainthill</a> and his partner, the theatre critic and gallery director <a href="http://www.elisarolle.com/queerplaces/fghij/Harry%20Tatlock%20Miller.html">Harry Tatlock Miller</a>. The landlady was the butch looking <a href="https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-136208998/view">Chica Lowe</a>. She provided a set-like stage on which residents performed their counter-cultural lives.</p>
<p>Wealthier queers conducted their lives at private dinners, where ironic cross-dressing provided entertainment. They used camp girls’ names such as Connie, Simone, Zena and Maude. Cross-dressing was a popular diversion for groups of gay friends, who hired country and beach houses for private parties around the country. </p>
<p>A queer sensibility can tell us as much as a queer identification at a time when non-binary sexuality could lead to financial ruin for both women and men. </p>
<p>Australia’s first interior decorator, Margaret Jaye, was almost certainly a lesbian, and one of the nation’s first industrial designers, Molly Grey, was photographed in 1935 with a Sapphic hairstyle and severe dress of oversize mannish collar, bow tie, and cuffs. Interior design, being connected to domesticity and the home, was one of the few professions where married women and gay men could work undisturbed.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=766&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387122/original/file-20210302-17-1q2wnyn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=963&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Molly Grey photographed in Potts Point Sydney by Harold Cazneaux circa 1935.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">State Library of New South Wales</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The author <a href="https://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/langley-eve-10784">Eve Langley</a> (who changed her name to Oscar Wilde by deed poll in 1954) and her sister June cross-dressed in country Gippsland when young, where they were known as the “trouser women”. Eve continued to wear mannish attire in her old age in the Blue Mountains.</p>
<h2>Sydney: from port to gay city</h2>
<p>World War II was a watershed for Australian queer identity. <a href="https://www.sl.nsw.gov.au/blogs/garry-wotherspoon-oral-history-interviews-gay-men-1980-1988-have-been-released-librarys-oral">Historians such as Garry Wotherspoon</a> have noted how port cities such as Sydney and San Francisco threw large numbers of young men together, away from their families, in new types of housing such as bachelor flats. These cities were the ones that later developed the first large homosexual communities, often in neglected inner-city areas, in the 1960s and 1970s. </p>
<p>World War II also threw into the mix female impersonators who performed for the forces. The Australian armed forces had 20 concert party groups and gave 12,000 shows in Australia, the Middle East and the Pacific. The Kiwi (New Zealand) Concert Party wore drag made from muslin, dishcloths and silver paper as well as real fashions. They continued to perform for nine years after the war ended. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=475&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387123/original/file-20210302-13-vxx0mh.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=597&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Official war artist Roy Hodgkinson captured a moment of revelry among Australian military forces at a New Guinea Concert Party in 1942.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Australian War Memorial</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Academic Chris Brickell has made <a href="https://www.brickell.nz/home/index.php/publications/books/mates-and-lovers">the important point</a> that although many of the performers pretended to be co-opted for their roles, most were more than willing. Their drag acts “drew from, and subsequently inspired, gay civilians’ own drag performances”.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=468&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/387432/original/file-20210303-22-10nw2sl.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=588&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lance-Corporal J. C. Robinson adjusting the wig of Private G. J. Buckham, female impersonator in the dressing room of the Kookaroos Concert Party, Torokina, Bougainville, 1945.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Australian War Memorial</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/i-didnt-know-that-world-existed-how-lesbian-women-found-a-life-in-the-armed-forces-88943">'I didn't know that world existed': how lesbian women found a life in the armed forces</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>1950s Australia saw an increasing witch hunt around queer sexuality, fuelled by the churches, the demands of the police and Cold War anxiety about Communist inflitration. The tabloid press continued earlier sensational reporting: (“Degenerate Dressed up as a Doll … St Kilda Sensation—Man-Woman Masquerader”) with headlines such as “Police War on this Nest of Perverts”. Even the famed 1950s American <a href="https://www.encyclopedia.com/social-sciences/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/physique-magazines-and-photographs">muscle culture magazines</a> were banned under strict censorship here. </p>
<p>Lesbian butch and femme subcultures had emerged by this time, in which one partner was styled in a hyper-feminine way, the other donning trousers and shorter hair. Writer Gavin Harris notes that <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lillian_May_Armfield">Lillian Armfield</a>, NSW’s first policewoman, claimed department stores blacklisted lesbians who were trying to “recruit” from among their “innocent” customers. </p>
<h2>Blak and queer</h2>
<p>Queer Indigenous people have been prominent for several decades in art forms such as dance, where they contribute to new formulations of ideas of “blak beauty,” blak being a term consciously deployed by contemporary queer visual artists, including <a href="http://www.artdes.monash.edu.au/globe/issue10/batxt.html">Brook Andrew</a>.</p>
<p>The biography and survival story of Indigenous dancer and choreographer Noel Tovey (born 1934) charts a trajectory from abandonment and abuse to a life as a successful actor and dancer in London in the 1960s. Here Tovey mixed with gay circles and gained resilience and self-esteem. </p>
<p>Tovey described in his autobiography <a href="https://www.bookdepository.com/Little-Black-Bastard-Noel-Tovey/9780733619472">Little Black Bastard</a> the Artist’s Ball in Melbourne as “the only night of the year when the police turned a blind eye to the number of drag queens looking for a cab”. Characters who might turn up there included “Puss in Boots” or a reclusive “Greta Garbo”: the latter refused to talk to anyone all night. Tovey was later involved with the spectacular Awakenings opening dance sequence at the 2000 Sydney Olympic Games </p>
<h2>From blending to assertion</h2>
<p>William Yang has been photographing queer Brisbane and Sydney <a href="https://www.mca.com.au/artists-works/artists/william-yang/">since 1969</a>. In that year, he photographed David Williams, or Beatrice, who performed in drag at the Purple Onion Club, Sydney (opened 1962), singing “The Sound of Mucus” and “A Streetcar Named Beatrice”. The clothes matched the crude titles: synthetic crinolines and huge feather hats. </p>
<p>Yang also photographed gays who wished to blend, whose clothes appear very ordinary, with a slight edge that can only be read through the focus on casual softness. </p>
<p>Calls for an end to the criminalisation of homosexuality in Australia appeared by the early 1960s, following the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wolfenden_report#:%7E:text=The%20Report%20of%20the%20Departmental,Montagu%20of%20Beaulieu%2C%20Michael%20Pitt%2D">UK Wolfenden Committee report of 1957</a>, which recommended decriminalisation. The concept of “gay liberation” spread from activism in Sydney with the formation of CAMP Inc group in 1970, and at the University of Melbourne in 1971, into the wider public domain. </p>
<p>Sydney’s notorious street protest, the first Sydney Gay Mardi Gras (later Gay and Lesbian), took <a href="https://www.mardigras.org.au/history">place in 1978</a>. The first march was notorious for the arrests and the violence directed at the participants at the old Darlinghurst Police Station (now closed) and created a catalyst for further activism. Many more bars, clubs and community organisations opened and provided relatively safe spaces for LGBTQI to gather.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-on-the-sydney-mardi-gras-march-of-1978-54337">Friday essay: on the Sydney Mardi Gras march of 1978</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In recent decades we have witnessed a massive shift from situational, private and criminalised sexualities to open, liberationist and perhaps also commodified ones. </p>
<p>But there are gays and lesbians everywhere if you look carefully in the past, even if not all were as striking or spectacular as the ones outlined here.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/155964/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Peter McNeil consults for Alphawood Exhibitions LLC in the Unites States of America. </span></em></p>
From the “goo goo” boys mocked for their love of theatre to cross-dressing troops and “trouser women”, Australia has a rich queer history.
Peter McNeil, Distinguished Professor of Design History, UTS, University of Technology Sydney
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/144967
2020-10-09T12:27:47Z
2020-10-09T12:27:47Z
RuPaul’s Drag Race: how social media made drag’s subversive art form into a capitalist money maker
<p>RuPaul’s Drag Race has become a behemoth with seemingly unstoppable forward motion. First aired in 2009 and created by production company World of Wonder, the reality show sees drag queens compete to become “America’s Next Drag Superstar”. Since premiering, the show has spawned a business empire with a legion of spinoffs, smartphone apps, thrice-yearly fan conventions and franchised versions in Thailand, Canada, the UK <a href="https://www.digitalspy.com/tv/reality-tv/a33949636/drag-race-holland-season-one-line-up/">and now</a> Holland.</p>
<p>RuPaul’s Drag Race represents the high watermark of mainstream success for global drag culture. It has had a massive hand in normalising the idea of the drag queen (at least in the American mediascape) and, as <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/19392397.2020.1765080">our analysis of the show’s media empire found</a>, made the art form extremely lucrative. However, that drag could be financially successful and culturally acceptable has not always been the case. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A1bIcvL7zAs?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>Traditionally, drag has been an unrecognised art form outside of LGBTQ+ spaces, with <a href="https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/M/bo3634939.html">most drag queens living on the fringes of society</a>. In the United States, for example, “stage queens” who managed to find paying work earned incomes <a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/19392397.2020.1765080">far below the national poverty line</a>. But today, drag is enjoying mainstream success, thanks in large part to the relationship it has developed with commercial social media. </p>
<h2>On the fringes</h2>
<p>Before the early 2000s, drag culture and the internet developed away from mainstream capitalism. However, both have since been professionalised, giving rise to drag career YouTubers and social media influencers. Their parallel evolution towards highly-polished, branded professionalism has provided the conditions for drag culture’s mainstream visibility. But at what cost?</p>
<p>A major reason for Drag Race’s success is that World of Wonder funnelled core aspects of drag culture into the reality TV format – a format entirely dependent on the <a href="https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/9781118599594.ch24">low production costs and self-branding affordances</a> of today’s commercialised social media infrastructure.</p>
<p>But historically, drag in America had an ambivalent relationship to capitalism. The radical drag troupe <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzJd4unMd4I&ab_channel=DavidWeissman">The Cockettes</a>, for example, lived on a commune in San Francisco, put on free performances (some of which explicitly critiqued capitalism), shoplifted costumes and props and collected state welfare. </p>
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<p>Other queens – like those in the arthouse documentary <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0100332/">Paris Is Burning</a> (1990) and Ryan Murphy’s television series <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2018/aug/25/pose-ryan-murphy-new-show-about-voguing-is-tv-at-its-most-fearless">Pose</a> (2018-19) – similarly operated on capitalism’s margins. The <a href="https://haenfler.sites.grinnell.edu/subcultures-and-scenes/underground-ball-culture/">drag balls</a> (a competition scene where people, often drag queens, perform different drag genres and categories) portrayed in these productions offered temporary respite from the cultural and economic exclusion queens faced outside queer spaces.</p>
<p>Like drag, the early world wide web was not initially regarded as a means to a career. Instead, it offered vibrant spaces for self-expression and information sharing, from <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=fr8bdUDisqAC">early bulletin board systems</a> to the eclecticism of <a href="https://uwspace.uwaterloo.ca/handle/10012/11859">personal webpages</a>. </p>
<p>But the turn of the 21st century saw the emergence of now-familiar brand names like Facebook, YouTube and Twitter, and the extractive economic models that turned these sites into big money-makers. With this, drag and internet culture became dominated by entrepreneurialism.</p>
<h2>Queens of business</h2>
<p>It is in this space that Drag Race emerged. A professionalised social media presence is all but compulsory for Drag Race contestants. RuPaul routinely directs viewers to “participate” in the programme through hashtags, and audiences are encouraged to support their favourite finalist similarly. In more recent seasons, the size of online followings is a constant topic of discussion. There are also frequent debates about whether contestants are “social media queens”, who exist solely online, or are “stage queens”. </p>
<p>Moreover, Drag Race contestants frame their social media participation through the discourse of entrepreneurial self-branding. For instance, <a href="https://rupaulsdragrace.fandom.com/wiki/Jasmine_Masters">Jasmine Masters</a> (S7 and All Stars S3) <a href="https://escholarship.org/uc/item/0245q9h9">has said</a>:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Once you’re on [social media], you are a reality celebrity. You are a brand from that point, you know, so you have to treat yourself as a market, as a business.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Masters has in fact mastered the use of social media to self-brand. Despite performing poorly on both of her seasons, she remains a fan favourite largely through the virality of memes produced from her YouTube channel. </p>
<p>Other Drag Race alumni have spun their social media popularity into offline success. Many have prolific careers that include touring, YouTube series, film and television roles, book publishing and even music.</p>
<p>In a Drag Con (the Drag Race fan convention) panel titled <a href="https://www.facebook.com/LatriceRoyaleInc/videos/business-of-drag-panel-at-dragcon-with-merle-ginsberg-fan-page-mimi-imfurst/1013066035397333/">“The Business of Drag”</a>, Latrice Royale makes clear that, today, “Drag is not a hobby, it’s a career.” This claim marks a radical departure from the pre-internet drag and highlights the imperative of “work” – or, as they say in LGBTQ+ culture, “werq” – in today’s drag culture. </p>
<p>The significance of the term is vividly captured in fan favourite Shangela’s song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hArTHxRpKmM">Werqin’ Girl</a>, a braggadocio track in which she boasts about her status as a paid professional. The song fetishes hard work and tenacity. And like Jasmine Masters, Shangela foregrounds entrepreneurialism in a way that’s a world away from pre-internet drag in its explicitly anti-capitalist and marginal modes.</p>
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<p>While social media has created careers for many Drag Race alumni, as an art form, drag is at its most powerful when it questions dominant arrangements of power. Performers such as The Cockettes and those in Paris is Burning are prime examples.</p>
<p>What our analysis of Drag Race’s media empire – from episode transcripts and contestant interviews to spin-off podcasts, panels and YouTube series – demonstrates is that drag has been girdled by the logic of competitive individualism and the free market. As such, the show’s mainstreaming of drag, as cultural analyst <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books?id=blQ3ro8qxb0C">Lisa Duggan notes</a>, perpetuates “a privatized, depoliticized gay culture anchored in… consumption”. A culture that positions drag as an economic vehicle rather as a means of mocking, querying or dismantling dominant power structures.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/144967/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
How Ru Paul’s Drag Race turned an underground anti-capitalist art form into a lucrative multifaceted mainstream industry
Zeena Feldman, Lecturer in Digital Culture, King's College London
Jamie Hakim, Lecturer in Media Studies, University of East Anglia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/141125
2020-07-19T19:51:49Z
2020-07-19T19:51:49Z
Queer young adult fiction isn’t all gloomy realism. Here are 5 uplifting books to get you started
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343357/original/file-20200623-188900-1o8dlx1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=35%2C0%2C3936%2C2339&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Robert Anasch/Unsplash</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://books.google.com.au/books/about/Representing_the_Rainbow_in_Young_Adult.html?id=Q8dODwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y">Early ventures</a> in queer young adult (YA) fiction followed certain conventions: they tended to be set in the contemporary world and their narratives focused on coming out, bullying, heartbreak or fighting for acceptance. Most unfortunately, these stories also have a long history of <a href="https://arminda.whitman.edu/theses/333">ending in tragedy</a>.</p>
<p>There is absolutely a place for stories that address the often harsh reality of being queer in a heteronormative world. However, <a href="https://medium.com/the-establishment/the-critical-evolution-of-lgbtq-young-adult-literature-ce40cd4905c6">this history</a> has left many adolescents (and adults!) under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella <a href="https://www.salon.com/2018/06/25/queer-young-adult-fiction-grows-beyond-the-coming-out-story/">calling out for stories</a> that break this mould. </p>
<p>Over the last decade, there has not only been <a href="https://www.malindalo.com/blog/2019/3/18/a-decade-of-lgbtq-ya-since-ash">an increase</a> in the number of queer YA books being published (including by major publishing houses), but also a welcome and notable shift in the kinds of stories these books tell. Now, we have not just contemporary realism, but sci-fi and fantasy. Not just tales of unrequited love, but sappy romantic comedies. </p>
<p>Not just narratives about hardship — but narratives about <em>hope</em>. </p>
<p>Queer representation in fiction can provide education, validation and affirmation to young people and help normalise queerness — for teenagers exploring their identities, but also for readers of all ages and orientations who want to experience different perspectives or learn to be better allies.</p>
<p>But these hopeful queer stories are also important precisely because they are <em>fun</em>. Sometimes you want the catharsis of reading about a gay teenager coming out. Sometimes you want the escapism of reading about a gay teenager saving the universe, going through a magic portal or having a big mushy rom-com moment. </p>
<p>As well as providing entertainment, these books are giving queer teenagers stories that promise a life outside of sadness and hardship. </p>
<p>Want to know more? Here are five recent queer YA novels to get you started.</p>
<h2><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/52857576-euphoria-kids">Euphoria Kids</a> by Alison Evans</h2>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=944&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=944&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=944&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1186&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1186&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343352/original/file-20200623-188936-1kq6jt1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1186&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p>Babs is invisible most of the time, so she’s thrilled her classmate Iris can see her. Iris grew from a seed in their parents’ back garden and routinely hangs out with fairies and dryads, so magic is part of ordinary life as far as they’re concerned. </p>
<p>This is a witchy and whimsical story about the power of friendship and self-love. The novel’s magical setting provides a safe, hopeful and happy world for its trans characters, as well as a deeply dreamy reading experience.</p>
<h2><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/32469736-the-disasters">The Disasters</a> by M.K. England</h2>
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<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=908&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343353/original/file-20200623-188926-ejwg56.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1141&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p>Nasir “Nax” Hall is going to be a hot-shot space pilot … at least, that was the plan, but he’s just failed his entrance exam. When a mysterious faction attacks the academy, Nax and a group of other intergalactic wash-ups become the only ones who can save the known universe.</p>
<p>The Disasters is pure fun, throwing you into a high-stakes outer-space adventure at warp speed. </p>
<p>The rag-tag crew of diverse teenagers have a rocky beginning but develop a fire-forged bond across the novel. It’s a delightful read.</p>
<h2><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31246717-the-summer-of-jordi-p-rez">The Summer of Jordi Perez (and the Best Burgers in Los Angeles)</a> by Amy Spalding</h2>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=896&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=896&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=896&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1126&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1126&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343354/original/file-20200623-188886-vckyw1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1126&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p>Plus-sized, pink-haired and gay, Abby figures she’s “the funny friend” in someone else’s love story and will never be the star of her own. That is, until she starts her summer internship at a vintage fashion store and meets the artsy and enigmatic Jordi Perez.</p>
<p>This has everything you could want from a summer romance: it’s sweet as ice cream, with equal scoops of bright and breezy comedy and heartfelt drama. </p>
<p>Though there are ups and downs, Abby gets her happily ever after.</p>
<h2><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/29904219-not-your-sidekick">Not Your Sidekick</a> by C.B. Lee</h2>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=899&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343355/original/file-20200623-188921-iu7kaz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1130&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p>Jess is the daughter of superheroes. Naturally, the best way she could rebel is to take a part-time job with the local supervillains. </p>
<p>Lee embraces all the secret identity shenanigans and zap-pow action scenes you could want from a superhero story, but starring a cast of queer teenagers. </p>
<p>This book plays with the tropes lovingly and cleverly, and is the first in a very fun series.</p>
<h2><a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/45359713-felix-ever-after">Felix Ever After</a> by Kacen Callender</h2>
<figure class="align-right ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=900&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/343356/original/file-20200623-188886-1ur24k0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1131&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p>Felix arrives at school one day to find the lobby full of photographs of him before he transitioned. </p>
<p>Determined to get revenge on the anonymous “artist”, he creates a fake online personality to get dirty secrets out of his classmates … and soon finds himself embroiled in Instagram subterfuge and in the middle of a strange digital love triangle.</p>
<p>Callender explores some harrowing issues but I include their book on this list because it addresses harsh realities and still comes out the other side as a story about hope. </p>
<p>Felix Ever After speaks to the past and future of queer YA: it doesn’t shy away from the struggles queer teens can face while also offering a picture-perfect happy ending.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/141125/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alex Henderson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Sci-fi, fantasy and rom-coms: books with LGBTQIA+ characters are as diverse as their readers.
Alex Henderson, PhD Candidate in Literary Studies and Creative Writing, University of Canberra
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/141896
2020-07-03T12:45:28Z
2020-07-03T12:45:28Z
How Shanghai’s LGBTQ community came out for Pride Month in 2020
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/345336/original/file-20200702-111242-1poyv4c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C108%2C1078%2C609&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Members of Shanghai's LGBTQ communities gather to celebrate Pride Month.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">ShanghaiPRIDE</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Pride Month events scheduled for June 2020 <a href="https://gayprideshop.co.uk/pages/uk-gay-pride-calendar-2020">were cancelled</a> in <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/20/us/pride-canceled.html">most parts</a> of <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/jamiewareham/2020/05/29/pride-month-500-prides-cancel-amid-coronavirus-global-lgbt-digital-pride-list-events/#5c74165a4576">the world</a> due to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. But, bucking the trend – and perhaps giving a message about <a href="https://www.china-briefing.com/news/china-covid-19-policy-tracker-benefiting-business-enterprises-comprehensive-updated-list/">China’s handling of the crisis</a> – Shanghai’s LGBTQ community has just celebrated Pride with a series of public events.</p>
<p>The longest-running pride festival in mainland China, <a href="https://www.shpride.com/?lang=en">ShanghaiPRIDE</a> has been held in June each year since 2009. Although COVID-19 lockdown was <a href="https://fortune.com/2020/05/04/china-economy-reopens-after-lockdown/">eased in Shanghai</a> a couple of months ago, people still have to wear face masks when attending public events and many prefer avoiding public gatherings altogether. </p>
<p>So, according to ShanghaiPRIIDE co-founder Raymond Phang, organisers had to take <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2020/5/11/21254283/disneyland-shanghai-reopens-safety-measures-coronavirus">special measures</a> to protect participants’ health and safety, such as scaling down the size of events, checking participants’ health apps installed on their mobile phones, providing face masks and sanitisers for participants. People’s temperatures were checked on entry into event venues, which were all either outdoors or well-ventilated.</p>
<p>Running between June 13 and 21, the <a href="https://www.shpride.com/schedule2020/?lang=en">nine-day festival</a> consisted of a job fair, an open day for LGBTQ groups, three panel discussions (on mental health, inclusive academia and rainbow marriage respectively), a Pride run and a “Rainbow Brunch”. There was also a half-day of film screenings as part of the ShanghaiPRIDE Film Festival, two parties, and a “Pride Talk” meet-up and discussion event. These events all took place physically in Shanghai’s public urban spaces.</p>
<h2>‘Raise the Pride’</h2>
<p>Although there was no actual Pride parade in the western sense, many events in Shanghai still brought queer people together. ShanghaiPRIDE organised a “Rainbow Bike Ride” to mark the <a href="https://may17.org/">IDAHOBIT</a> (International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia and Biphobia) on May 17 as a prelude to the festival. Six teams of cyclists wearing different rainbow coloured shirts rode along different routes around the city before they <a href="https://www.shpride.com/2020/05/23/recap_rbr/?lang=en">arrived at the same destination</a>, uniting different colours of the rainbow. </p>
<p>The Pride run on June 14 encouraged people to jog together, wearing or carrying rainbow signs. Participants chose to follow six or 12 kilometre routes and met at a <a href="https://www.shpride.com/2020/06/01/pr/?lang=en">final destination in the city centre</a> where there was a celebration.</p>
<p>ShanghaiPRIDE co-founder Charlene Liu said in a <a href="https://www.chinalgbt.org/charlene-liu">video interview</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>In China, there are no Pride parades. Perhaps we don’t really need it. That’s why we have different cultural events such as film festivals, theatres and so on. Sport events such as the bike ride and the run are the closest to what we can get to having a Pride [march]. You know, obstacles are there not to help you stumble – obstacles are there to help you overcome them.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>This year’s ShanghaiPRIDE English slogan is “Raise the Pride”. Its Chinese slogan, “敢晒,敢骄傲,” literally translates as: “Be brave enough to show yourself and be proud of yourself.”</p>
<p>Other groups in Shanghai have also been putting on public events and community activities for Pride month. <a href="https://www.cinemq.com/">CINEMQ</a>, a Shanghai-based independent queer film collective formed in 2015, has recently started to collaborate with Shanghai Community Radio to run an online talk show called <a href="https://www.cinemq.com/post/qscc-1">Queer Screen Chitchat</a>. </p>
<p>Every other Tuesday evening, two or three talk show hosts and guests chat live online and interact simultaneously with LGBTQ audiences about queer films and various community issues. A recent show discussed the representation of black queer people on screen to support Black Lives Matter.</p>
<p>The city has a third LGBTQ film festival – the <a href="http://shqff.org/">Shanghai Queer Film Festival</a>. This is a volunteer-run, independent festival held annually since 2016. The festival – which this year is expected to take place in September, depending on the status of the pandemic – works closely with filmmakers from China and the rest of Asia to support queer film culture. It also champions a more inclusive queer politics by showcasing diversity and differences within communities. </p>
<h2>Queer-friendly China?</h2>
<p>With its annual Pride celebration and three queer film festivals, Shanghai is one of the most queer-friendly cities in China. But <a href="https://www.ellgeebe.com/en/destinations/asia/china/beijing/pride-and-events/beijing-queer-film-festival">Beijing</a>, <a href="http://www.sixthtone.com/news/1528/chengdu%2C-the-questionable-queer-capital-of-china">Chengdu</a> and <a href="https://www.cinemq.com/post/2017/06/18/meet-guangzhou-international-lgbt-film-festival">Guangzhou</a> also host their own versions of queer film cultures and Pride events. This demonstrates how far China has come along the road to LGBTQ acceptance.</p>
<p>Homosexuality was decriminalised in mainland China in 1997 and was removed from the country’s classification of mental disorders (CCMD-3) <a href="https://outrightinternational.org/content/china-legal-position-and-status-lesbian-gay-bisexual-and-transgender-people-people%E2%80%99s">in 2001</a>. But LGBTQ people still face challenges from a heteronormative society, with an emphasis on Confucian family values and social conformity. All these make it hard for LGBTQ people to come out. </p>
<p>In recent years, discussion of LGBTQ issues has increasingly <a href="https://foreignpolicy.com/2018/04/17/its-still-just-about-ok-to-be-gay-in-china/">been discouraged</a> or even banned on mainstream media and social media. Organising queer public events has also become more difficult and organisers sometimes face prosecution.</p>
<p>The 19-year-old queer activist Xiang Xiaohan, who organised a small-scale pride march in Changsha on IDAHOBIT in 2013, was arrested by the police and <a href="https://www.gaystarnews.com/article/video-first-gay-pride-parade-china-released070613/">detained for 12 days</a>. And in 2019, IDAHOBIT celebrations were banned on several university campuses and in a few cities <a href="https://www.unreservedmedia.com/less-rainbows-and-social-media-for-chinas-lgbt-community/">across the country</a></p>
<p>Despite all the difficulties, civil society groups fighting for LGBTQ rights have achieved some limited success. In 2017, China’s legislative body, the National People’s Congress, <a href="https://news.cgtn.com/news/2019-08-09/LGBT-couples-in-China-file-for-voluntary-guardianship-J15eC8QcrC/index.html">amended Chinese law to allow “legal guardianship”</a>. This enables same-sex partners to make important decisions for each other regarding medical and personal care, death and funeral arrangements and property rights. </p>
<p>In December 2019, a National People’s Congress <a href="https://www.sixthtone.com/ht_news/1004987/lgbt-supporters-lobby-for-same-sex-marriage-in-revised-civil-cod">spokesperson acknowledged</a> that the legalisation of same-sex marriage was among the most popular requests for revisions to China’s civil code. But the Chinese Congress passed the new civil code in May 2020, <a href="https://www.scmp.com/news/china/politics/article/3085693/chinas-lgbt-activists-step-push-gay-marriage-after-official">rejecting same-sex marriage rights</a>. So, despite some advances, there’s a long way to go before the LGBTQ communities are fully embraced in mainland China.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/141896/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Hongwei Bao does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Despite the pandemic, Shanghai’s Pride month went ahead this year, a sign of China’s growing acceptance of its LGBTQ communities.
Hongwei Bao, Associate Professor in Media Studies, University of Nottingham
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/140155
2020-06-11T20:06:12Z
2020-06-11T20:06:12Z
Why the pleasure and meaning of mingling in bars can’t be matched by a table for 2
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340923/original/file-20200610-34688-vq2p1l.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=16%2C131%2C4112%2C2940&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Sociologist Marcus Anthony Hunter found that for Black patrons of a Black nightclub, the ‘nightly round’ mitigated the impacts of spatial and social isolation. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Unslpash/Tobias Nii Kwatei Quartey)</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>As bars begin to <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2020/06/03/happy-days-return-paris-france-cafes-bars-restaurants-finally/">reopen across the world</a> <a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/here-s-what-different-provinces-territories-are-planning-for-covid-19-reopenings-1.5601572">after coronavirus closures</a>, the question of how we will socialize within them remains perplexing. The traditional bar is a complex social space and serves so many functions.</p>
<p>Twenty years ago, a group of French anthropologists <a href="https://www.editions-harmattan.fr/index.asp?navig=catalogue&obj=livre&no=9704">studied the behaviour of young people in a bar called Café Oz</a>, located in the <a href="https://en.parisinfo.com/transport/118359/Quartier-des-Halles">Halles district</a> of Paris. </p>
<p>Café Oz had an Australian theme, as its name might suggest, but this was not its main appeal. The bar’s popularity among young people had more to do with the kinds of social encounters that were possible within its walls.</p>
<p>While <a href="https://www.pavillon-arsenal.com/fr/edition-e-boutique/collections/19-x-30/9214-paris-la-nuit.html">the traditional Parisian café or bistro</a> kept customers confined to a single table (which the server had probably chosen for them), Café Oz — like British-style pubs — was designed to encourage customers to walk around. The “cash-and-carry” system, foreign to traditional French drinking establishments, required that customers go to the bar to fetch their own drinks. </p>
<p>This encouraged people to hang around the bar, joining in conversations already underway or to sit down with strangers at the long tables installed for that precise purpose. Customers could pursue new connections as they wanted and avoid others.</p>
<p>To the young people interviewed by the anthropologists, these arrangements made possible a freedom that <a href="https://jhupbooks.press.jhu.edu/title/world-paris-caf%C3%A9">the age-old rituals of French drinking culture</a> discouraged.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340722/original/file-20200609-21208-wrntam.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A woman cleans the terrace of a restaurant in Paris, June 1, 2020. France is reopening its restaurants, bars and cafés as the country eases most restrictions amid the coronavirus crisis.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(AP Photo/Christophe Ena)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Student mobility, tourism</h2>
<p>Café Oz was a space for meeting strangers, its risks reduced by the fact that one usually arrived with friends. An evening out was a long series of short-term exchanges with the friends one came with and the new acquaintances one made. Those interviewed for the study noted, in particular, their pleasure at meeting people of identities and backgrounds other than their own.</p>
<p>Café Oz is now the brand of a chain of bars, scattered across Paris, whose various <a href="https://www.facebook.com/CafeOzChatelet/">Facebook pages</a> either carry frozen announcements of events in early March or advise <a href="https://www.instagram.com/p/CAFJpsMod8B/">patrons to have patience</a> in the face of the ongoing quarantine. </p>
<p>Café Oz’s hazy present-day identity combines features of the Anglo-Irish pub, the American sports bar, the casual restaurant and the dance club. Like so many of its competitors, Café Oz now belongs to an international model for drinking places, one whose popularity has followed the enormous growth of <a href="https://doi.org/10.1086/671752">student mobility</a> <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/17535069.2018.1449010">and night-life tourism</a> over the past decade. </p>
<p>With multiple functions and broad appeal, these spaces sell the possibility of casual, short-term sociability.</p>
<h2>Post-confinement future</h2>
<p>There are two principles that guide the future of bars post-lockdown.
The first is that to accommodate social distancing, <a href="https://www.euroweeklynews.com/2020/05/23/late-night-extensions-to-bar-and-restaurant-terraces-coming-to-city-in-spains-costa-blanca-south/">alcohol consumption outside of the home will be stretched out across time and space.</a> </p>
<p>Drinking hours will be extended forwards and backwards, and the spaces for drinking will spill out onto streets, squares and parks. Crowds of drinkers will be thinned out, over longer periods of time and more widely dispersed in space.</p>
<p>The second principle dictates that the mobility of customers be reduced. Drinkers will be confined to their tables, and the size of groups drinking together will be limited and enforced. Gimmicky innovations like <a href="https://www.thedrinksbusiness.com/2020/05/contactless-tableside-ordering-service-to-launch-in-uk/">remote ordering devices</a> and plexiglass separators are being hailed for their capacity to further reduce the chances of interpersonal contact.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340724/original/file-20200609-21191-1xhfrts.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Patrons sit between plexiglass barriers on the patio of a restaurant and bar in Vancouver on May 31, 2020.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">THE CANADIAN PRESS/Darryl Dyck</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>‘Vertical drinking’</h2>
<p>Even as we accept these measures, we cannot help but wonder how the social function of bars will change. In the 1970s, “<a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/13562570801969473">vertical drinking</a>” — consuming alcohol while standing up and moving around, as in Café Oz — was embraced by British bars as a lively alternative to the dull immobility of the traditional pub, where customers sat in groups faced inwards.</p>
<p>Standing up and moving around seemed to encourage higher levels of drinking and to instill a more sociable atmosphere. Its <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmKjBHRze_k">detractors</a> saw vertical drinking as leading to boorish behaviour, more frequent sexual harassment and the death of meaningful conversation.</p>
<h2>Expressiveness spread</h2>
<p>A bar in which customers move around is a space that is constantly being redefined. In his <a href="https://press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/S/bo3632650.html">history of New York nightlife</a>,
historian Lewis A. Erenberg describes the ways in which, as restaurants added dance floors at the beginning of the past century, people went out to bars and eating establishments to look at each other rather than at professional performers engaged to entertain them. </p>
<p>“Expressiveness,” he suggests, “spread to the audience as well.” Getting up, moving around, looking at strangers and mingling with others — these made going to a nighttime drinking place a sociable, entertaining experience. </p>
<h2>The ‘nightly round’</h2>
<p>Sociology professor Marcus Anthony Hunter <a href="https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1540-6040.2010.01320.x">studied what he calls “the nightly round,” in urban Black nightlife</a>. He found there were restorative effects of nightlife movements and interactions in a Black nightclub for Black patrons for whom the daytime is often marked by the violence of exclusion and oppression. Heterosexual, as well as lesbian and gay patrons (who patronized the bar, respectively, for a Saturday “straight night” and a Friday “gay night”) used their movements around a bar “to mediate racial segregation [and] sexual segregation.” </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=448&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/340935/original/file-20200610-34710-7jyf4u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Hunter found that Black patrons were exploring socio-economic opportunities while circulating in a Black nightclub.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">(Unsplash)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Hunter found their “rounds” were ways of shoring up social capital — one’s place within community — and a way of exploring socio-economic opportunities (and for the lesbian and gay patrons, developing social support). In Hunter’s words, such contacts mitigate “the effects of social and spatial isolation.”</p>
<p>In her extraordinary 1944 novel <a href="https://www.hmhco.com/shop/books/The-Street/9780358187547"><em>The Street</em></a>, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2019/dec/14/the-street-the-1940s-african-american-thriller-that-became-a-huge-bestseller">about life in Harlem</a>, Ann Petry wrote that, for its Black clientele, a certain neighbourhood bar served as “a social club and a meeting place,” its talk and laughter replacing “the haunting silences of rented rooms and little apartments.”</p>
<h2>Celebration or lament?</h2>
<p>As the spatial-temporal limits on social drinking are extended, there will be much to celebrate in the coming months. </p>
<p>But if the price of this extension is that patrons are immobilized at assigned tables in small groups — and if these groups nervously eye each other rather than revelling in the spectacle of mingling strangers — bars will have lost some of their most important functions.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/140155/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>William Straw receives funding from McGill University under the James McGill Professor program. . </span></em></p>
If bars are forced to restrict people’s movement in our post-coronavirus pandemic world, they will lose some of their most important social functions.
William Straw, Professor of Urban Media Studies, Department of Art History and Communications Studies, McGill University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/138491
2020-05-15T13:22:19Z
2020-05-15T13:22:19Z
Gay Korea: homophobia sparked by Seoul coronavirus cluster driven by Protestant right
<p>The Korean LGBTQ+ community knew to prepare for an anti-gay onslaught after it <a href="http://www.koreaherald.com/view.php?ud=20200508000751">emerged</a> that a person with an asymptomatic COVID-19 infection had been partying in Itaewon, a gay nightlife district in the South Korean capital, Seoul. The community is used to being shamed for just living their lives or blamed for spreading disease.</p>
<p>While Seoul’s Jongno district caters particularly for gay men in the form of restaurants and bars, Itaewon offers a convenient concentration of gay clubs and dancehalls. The story of COVID-19 infections in Itaewon originated from King Club, which <a href="http://www.instagram.com/p/CAAyN66lWG1/">posted on social media </a> on May 7 that a customer had been diagnosed with COVID-19 and that the venue had been disinfected. </p>
<p>News of at <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/world/live-news/coronavirus-pandemic-05-12-20-intl/h_4dd018c62c3c8db27d370b0b7ae78d51">least 100 other infections</a> linked to the nightclub then sparked a <a href="https://edition.cnn.com/2020/05/12/asia/south-korea-club-outbreak-intl-hnk/index.html">homophobic backlash</a> against the LGBTQ+ community, feeding into a long history of stigma driven by the country’s Protestant right.</p>
<h2>Queer Seoul</h2>
<p>Being a sexual minority in Korea is not illegal, and transgender people are able to transition. But there is <a href="https://www.equaldex.com/region/south-korea">no recognition of same-sex partnerships</a> (marriage or otherwise) and the absence of comprehensive anti-discrimination legislation means that the rights of sexual minorities are largely unprotected.</p>
<p>Both gay men and <a href="https://www.wsj.com/articles/south-koreas-military-discharges-transgender-soldier-11579697345">trans-people continue to experience discrimination</a> in the military, and anal sex between military personnel can be prosecuted and <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2019/07/10/world/asia/south-korea-army-gay.html">lead up to two years in prison</a>. This is a big problem in a country with mandatory conscription.</p>
<p>Still, in many respects LGBTQ+ people are able to live with relative freedom. Locations and events all over Seoul cater for the community. There are queer theatre groups and bookstores, queer sex-toy shops, restaurants and cafes – some of them officially gay, others unofficially so. </p>
<p>Seoul holds an annual <a href="https://sqcf.org/english">Queer Pride</a> parade and two queer-themed <a href="http://www.apqffa.org/seoul-pride-film-festival">film</a> <a href="http://kqff.co.kr/?ckattempt=1">festivals</a>. All of this is possible thanks to the numerous activist groups and organisations, the oldest of which date back to the late 1980s.</p>
<p>There are dating apps, websites and online “cafes” that are extremely popular and not as censored or dangerous to use as in some other parts of the world. As a result, while some LGBTQ+ individuals choose not to “come out” to their families, others do. Simultaneously there is a <a href="http://www.yes24.com/Product/Goods/61103233">sentiment among the community</a> that a western practice of coming out might be unnecessary, that queerness and family can be negotiated differently.</p>
<p>Outside of the Korean LGBTQ+ bubble, there is a <a href="http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/13691050500159720">widespread belief</a>, embedded into the understanding of the heterosexual general public that homosexuality does not exist in Korea. Or if it does, not in large numbers. LGBTQ+ activists work relentlessly to change this view and fight for their rights. However, achieving tangible results is slow. Mainly because they are fighting against a formidable force of conservative Christians.</p>
<h2>Role of the Protestant right</h2>
<p>Korea’s LGBTQ+ community is still actively being accused of <a href="http://www.eastasiaforum.org/2018/02/17/government-policies-fuel-south-koreas-hiv-epidemic/">spreading AIDS and endangering the Korean nation</a>. This toxic narrative is propagated by the <a href="https://www.palgrave.com/gp/book/9783319399775">Korean Protestant right</a>, a subset of Protestant Christianity that combines conservative evangelical theology with social and political conservatism.</p>
<p>An estimation of the Protestant right’s size can be seen in the Christian Council of Korea, the largest Protestant Christian alliance with <a href="https://www.theatlantic.com/international/archive/2017/05/south-korea-christians-election/525606/">reportedly</a> more than 12 million members. Since 2015, it has organised large anti-gay rallies all over the country and succeeded in blocking proposals for anti-discrimination legislation in <a href="http://www.yonhapnews.co.kr/local/0899000000.html?cid=MYH20071031003700355&from=search">2007</a>, <a href="http://www.lawmaking.go.kr/opnPtcp/nsmLmSts/out/1814001/detailRP">2011</a> and <a href="https://www.yna.co.kr/view/AKR20130205207800004">2013</a>.</p>
<h2>Blamed for coronavirus</h2>
<p>In this context, it’s not surprising that the Protestant right would replace HIV with COVID-19, when presented with the opportunity.</p>
<p>When the King Club announced on social media that one of its customers had been diagnosed with COVID-19, the news was picked up by Kukmin Daily, a local paper with links to <a href="http://www.kukmindaily.co.kr/article/view.asp?page=1&gCode=7000&arcid=0012884026&code=71111101">Protestant churches</a>. Soon after its publication, Kukmin Daily’s article was distributed by other media, sparking a homophobic backlash online against the queer community.</p>
<p>As it stands, for gay men in particular, <a href="https://www.koreatimes.co.kr/www/tech/2020/05/694_289426.html">getting tested for COVID-19 in Seoul risks being outed</a>. To be outed risks losing jobs, friends, even family. </p>
<p>Despite South Korea’s conservative values, under normal circumstances sexual minorities would be able to access healthcare like any other citizen. Now, due to the media frenzy, they face a choice between risking their health versus everything else.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/138491/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Sini-Petriina Klasto receives funding from Economic and Social Research Council (UK) and the Academy of Korean Studies. </span></em></p><p class="fine-print"><em><span>Hinny Luo received funding from the Korea Foundation, the Sochon Foundation, and the Academy of Korean Studies. </span></em></p>
Seoul has a bustling queer community, but LGBTQ+ people in South Korea face ongoing stigma.
Sini-Petriina Klasto, PhD Candidate, School of East Asian Studies, University of Sheffield
Allan C Simpson, PhD Candidate, Department of East Asian Languages & Culture, SOAS, University of London
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/123213
2019-09-18T13:04:45Z
2019-09-18T13:04:45Z
RuPaul’s Drag Race is inventing a whole new internet subculture and language
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/292616/original/file-20190916-19072-vl776p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C2000%2C1122&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">The RuPaul crew for Drag Race UK</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">BBC Pictures</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Try typing “Yas queen!” or “Shade” or “Don’t Fuck It Up” into a search engine and see what comes up. Most likely, you’ll get a GIF which originated from RuPaul’s Drag Race. First broadcast in the early 2000s as a niche talent show on relatively unknown US cable channel Logo TV, Drag Race is now <a href="https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/business-44335007">big business</a> and has moved to a far more visible new home on MTV’s VH1. </p>
<p>A UK version is set to debut on BBC Three in October – and with <a href="https://nowtoronto.com/movies/features/rupauls-drag-race-canada-crave/">Canadian</a> and <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2019/aug/26/rupauls-drag-race-australia-tv-phenomenon-coming-to-say-shantay-gday">Australian editions</a> in the works, Drag Race has become a cultural juggernaut that is influencing our everyday language and internet behaviour. We should all take notice.</p>
<figure> <img src="http://giphygifs.s3.amazonaws.com/media/NudlVy6NXsXVm/giphy.gif"></figure>
<p>Created by RuPaul Charles – the self-styled “<a href="https://www.billboard.com/articles/news/pride/8460088/rupaul-supermodel-of-the-world-album-25-appreciation">Supermodel of the World</a>”, Drag Race is a loud and proud LGBTQ+ show that subverts the usual trope of typically American talent shows such as Project Runway or America’s Next Top Model, by choosing drag queens as its contestants. On the show, drag queens fight for the crown of “America’s Next Drag Superstar” by competing in singing, dancing, lipsyncing and acting as well as various comedy challenges … and sewing.</p>
<p>Winning – or even just participating in – Drag Race can be life-changing for drag queens. Aside from the crown, America’s Next Drag Superstar wins US$100,000 and travels the world for a year representing the show.</p>
<p>But in the past few years, it has become clear that Drag Race has done way more than entertaining its ever-growing army of fans. It has helped open the door of drag, LGBTQ+ and black queer culture for a mainstream audience – introducing the conventions, habits, rituals and attitudes of these subcultures to the mainstream public.</p>
<h2>Drag Race and internet culture</h2>
<p>Through Drag Race, the language of drag is not just gaining recognition by a wider public – it is being turned into a new art form through memes, GIFs and content that <a href="https://www.buzzfeed.com/cassiesmyth/35-drag-race-memes-that-will-go-down-in-herstory">floods millions of people’s social media feeds</a>.</p>
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<p>Drag Race is manna from heaven for content creators and for niche fandoms – groups of die-hard fans that veer away from traditional, mainstream entertainment. In 2018, the show did a <a href="https://www.dazeddigital.com/film-tv/article/39018/1/what-went-down-on-the-antm-rupaul-s-drag-race-crossover">crossover episode</a> with America’s Next Top Model. RuPaul’s appearance on Jeopardy, and season nine winner Sasha Velour’s obsession with Riverdale, have left fans begging for new crossovers. Fan blogs <a href="https://www.tvovermind.com/rupauls-drag-race-american-horror-story-crossover/">have called for Drag Race/American Horror Story</a> or <a href="https://hornet.com/stories/drag-race-disney/">Disney/Drag Race</a> mash-ups.</p>
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<p>One of the most famous Drag Race crossovers, however, is <a href="https://www.papermag.com/fire-werk-with-me-the-rupaul-twin-peaks-meme-account-guaranteed-to-flo-2442213589.html">Fire WERK With Me</a>, a Facebook group with more than 10,000 members and <a href="https://www.papermag.com/dragrace-contestants-2326900115.html">write-ups in PAPER Magazine</a>. The group blends Drag Race and Twin Peaks by juxtaposing both shows’ characters and quotes through memes, gifs and videos made and posted exclusively by fans, who need to be added and accepted onto the group by moderators. </p>
<p>These tend to contain language and humour that only members of that subculture would be able to understand. The group has been acknowledged by RuPaul in interviews and, recently, by a variety of social media posts.</p>
<h2>Shady talk</h2>
<p>On Drag Race, language stops being just subcultural “lingo” and is a vehicle for speading and popularising drag slang, which is heavily used, explained and commented on during the show and subsequently adopted by pop culture. </p>
<p>The show’s language borrows from the 1991 New York drag scene documentary <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2015/jun/24/burning-down-the-house-debate-paris-is-burning">Paris Is Burning</a>, depicting the origins and meanings behind culture. Words such as “shade”, in particular, have now become mainstream, used in songs and writing by people outside the black or LGBTQIA+ community.</p>
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<p>Originally explained in Paris Is Burning by drag queen Dorian Corey – “Shade is, I don’t tell you you’re ugly, but I don’t have to tell you, because you know you’re ugly. And that’s shade,” - shade is now the ultimate witty, sharp critique adopted across the board. </p>
<p>For American academic <a href="https://www.ejumpcut.org/archive/jc54.2012/deVilRuPaul/index.html">Nicholas de Villiers,</a> drag lingo has an educational value, bringing drag into the wider debate to discuss gender, identity and sexuality, opening the discourse to non-LGBTQ+ audiences. And Drag Race makes a point of making words up, to then sum them up or explain them at the end of the season. </p>
<p>These words are often RuPaul’s, but they are also coined by contestants and other judges, like Shangela’s “<a href="https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Halleloo">Halleloo</a>” salute or “<a href="https://www.waywordradio.org/no-tea-no-shade/">No T No Shade</a>” – the inevitable prequel to saying something shady, but true, because there’s no T (truth) without a bit of shade.</p>
<h2>Mainstreaming drag</h2>
<p>The impact of Drag Race is being felt all over entertainment, so much so that show alumnae such as Willam and Shangela sashayed their way into parts in films such as <a href="https://www.vulture.com/2018/10/drag-races-shangela-and-willam-in-a-star-is-born.html">A Star Is Born</a>.</p>
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<p>Others, such as Milk and Violet Chachki, have become runway models for the likes of Marc Jacobs and Jean Paul Gaultier. Comedy queen Bianca Del Rio has <a href="https://www.ssearena.co.uk/events/detail/bianca-del-rio">sold out Wembley shows</a>, while Shae Coulee, Miss Vanjie or Mayhem Miller have <a href="https://www.losangelesblade.com/2019/03/18/iggy-azaleas-sally-walker-video-features-miss-vanjie-mayhem-miller/">starred in pop videos</a> for major artists including Iggy Azalea.</p>
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<p>Drag Race is influencing the way we speak and the content we create, to the extent that it is now becoming the subject of <a href="http://www.academia.edu/Documents/in/RuPauls_Drag_Race">academic papers and studies</a>. And the success of the show demonstrates that today’s viewers don’t just want to sit and watch. They want to evaluate, critique and engage in their own content creation based on the show that creates its own new, newsworthy subcultures and then bleeds on into the mainstream.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/123213/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Carolina Are does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
What started as a showcase for America’s drag queens is fast becoming a global sensation.
Carolina Are, PhD Candidate and Visiting Lecturer, City, University of London
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/120962
2019-08-09T13:01:36Z
2019-08-09T13:01:36Z
Companies promoting causes can be accused of ‘wokewashing’ – allying themselves only for good PR
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/287221/original/file-20190807-144855-18ceuo0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Ben & Jerry's opened Art for Justice, which highlights the need for criminal justice reform and features art by formerly incarcerated artists.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.apimages.com/metadata/Index/Ben-and-Jerry-s-Celebrates-Opening-of-New-Art-f-/78848a4b6a684aca829c1a71a4f4346b/1/0">AP Images/Andy Duback</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>More consumers want companies to <a href="https://www.forbes.com/sites/dangingiss/2019/02/11/study-consumers-blame-government-for-dividing-the-nation-but-look-to-brands-to-fix-it/#2c91af526ac4">address societal problems</a>, including <a href="https://www.marketingweek.com/erin-lyons-ad-industry-address-climate-change/">climate change</a> and <a href="https://www.marketingdive.com/news/53-of-consumers-believe-brands-can-do-more-to-solve-social-problems-than-g/538925/">crumbling infrastructure</a>.</p>
<p>Additionally, <a href="https://www.accenture.com/_acnmedia/Thought-Leadership-Assets/PDF/Accenture-CompetitiveAgility-GCPR-POV.pdf">more than half</a> want to buy <a href="https://sproutsocial.com/insights/data/social-media-connection/">from brands that take stands on social issues</a>.</p>
<p>At the same time, consumers are <a href="https://marketingland.com/brands-strive-for-authenticity-as-audiences-turn-a-skeptical-eye-toward-ads-236295">increasingly skeptical about these partnerships</a>, seeing them as marketing stunts. It’s called wokewashing.</p>
<p>I’m a <a href="https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Kim_Sheehan2">professor of brand responsibility</a>, and my forthcoming research investigates brands and their relationships with social issues, including the importance of both allies and advocates.</p>
<h2>Allies or advocates</h2>
<p>In marketing terms, allies are members of a dominant social group that <a href="https://www.brandeis.edu/teaching/Evaluating%20Ally%20Role.pdf">bring attention to important social issues</a>.</p>
<p>A company can serve as an ally when it works to increase awareness about issues affecting marginalized groups.</p>
<p>Advocates take a more active role, working to change <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20100402225054/http://www.npaction.org/article/articleview/76/1/248">political, economic and social systems</a>.</p>
<p>Companies can be advocates when they create campaigns to promote institutional change and provide financial support for groups engaged in creating social change. </p>
<p>Yoplait’s campaign to address <a href="https://econsultancy.com/five-brand-campaigns-that-took-a-stand-on-social-issues/">patronizing attitudes toward moms</a> is an example of corporate advocacy.</p>
<p>Another is Stella Artois’ partnership with Water.org to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mHnVMfjFMVs">end the global water crisis</a>. This partnership has already raised more than US$3 million in donations <a href="https://washdiplomat.com/PouchArticle/cms/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=574">to bring almost a million people access to clean water</a>, according to a spokesperson from Water.org.</p>
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<figcaption><span class="caption">The brand Stella Artois advocates to end the global water crisis.</span></figcaption>
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<h2>Pride month</h2>
<p>However, corporate adventures into social issues aren’t always well thought out or received.</p>
<p>For example, consider this year’s Pride celebrations. The number of brands participating in Pride was at <a href="https://adage.com/article/cmo-strategy/how-brands-are-showing-their-pride-month/2176256">an all-time high in 2019</a>. Brands, including <a href="http://www.sfpride.org/">T-Mobile, Alaska Airlines</a> and <a href="https://www.nycpride.org/sponsors/">MasterCard</a>, featured <a href="https://twitter.com/WunThompson/status/1138187421009436672">supportive messages</a> and <a href="https://www.newsweek.com/these-30-brands-are-celebrating-pride-giving-back-lgbt-community-1441707">announced donations</a> to support the queer community.</p>
<p>Pride sponsors also included brands <a href="https://www.equinox.com/poweredbypride">Equinox</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c4K-K4dxh84">SoulCycle</a>. Customers organized a <a href="https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2019/08/07/soulcycle-equinox-boycott-members-upset-over-trump-fundraiser/1947904001/">boycott</a> of the brands on Aug. 7, 2019 after the chairman of their parent company announced that he is <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/equinox-boycott-calls-customers-threaten-equinox-and-soulcycle-boycott-over-trump-fundraiser/">hosting a fundraiser for Donald Trump</a>, who advocates say is anti-LGBTQ.</p>
<p>Some LGBTQ community members did not welcome large brand sponsorships to Pride, arguing that sponsorships take the focus away from <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/jul/02/brands-rainbow-queasy-but-bring-lgbt-lives-into-mainstream-skittles-gay">issues of LGBTQ marginalization</a>. These brands were not seen as authentic advocates, as they were not contributing directly to LGBTQ causes, but instead were paying for exposure.</p>
<p>They argued that brands don’t really care about the community, pointing to a lack of supportive messages <a href="https://www.redstate.com/brandon_morse/2019/06/04/dear-lgbt-community-corporations-dont-care/">throughout the rest of the year</a>.</p>
<p>There are also concerns from members of the community that brands Pride while taking political <a href="https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2019/06/28/pride-marketing-benefits-lgbtq-community-corporate-america/1511433001/">stances that harm the LGBTQ community</a>. More companies may be facing criticism of this kind as we approach <a href="https://www.opensecrets.org/news/2019/06/companies-political-spending-contradicts-pride-support/">the upcoming election cycle</a>.</p>
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<h2>The importance of allies</h2>
<p>Some companies may <a href="https://www.marketingdive.com/news/the-year-of-woke-washing-how-tone-deaf-activism-risks-eroding-brands/557606/">use causes to pander to consumers</a> and <a href="https://thesocialelement.agency/brand-purpose-woke-washing/">deserve to be called out</a>, but my research shows that corporate allies and advocates can have an important role in society.</p>
<p>Both engagement through allyship and advocacy continue to be important to keep issues in the spotlight in order to create significant social change.</p>
<p>I’m finding in my research that brands connecting with social issues can be a win-win: Consumers become aware of important social issues that may lack media exposure and brands connect with like-minded consumers in a more authentic way.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/120962/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kim Sheehan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Today, companies often take stances on social issues. A professor of brand responsibility compares ally brands with advocates.
Kim Sheehan, Professor of Journalism and Communication and Director of the Master's Program in Brand Responsibility, University of Oregon
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/118639
2019-07-19T09:25:10Z
2019-07-19T09:25:10Z
My book Tell it to the Bees was made into a film – but they changed the ending for a straight audience
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/279157/original/file-20190612-32361-1nc3gpf.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=4%2C2%2C1491%2C995&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Anna Paquin and Holliday Grainger star in Tell it to the Bees.</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Vertigo Releasing</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>You’ll find the corpses of many novels left to rot in the hinterland of film adaptation – and plenty of novelists weeping over them. Films are sometimes very much altered from the novels they are based on. And mostly, in the novelists’ eyes, for the worse.</p>
<p>So I’m glad to say that after the film adaptation of my novel Tell it to the Bees was premiered at the <a href="https://www.screendaily.com/reviews/tell-it-to-the-bees-toronto-review/5132485.article">Toronto International Film Festival</a> in September 2018 I wasn’t weeping, but applauding.</p>
<p>The film adaptation (directed by Annabel Jankel, script by Henrietta and Jessica Ashworth) captures much of the spirit of the novel, with expressive performances from Holliday Grainger and Anna Paquin. It is beautifully filmed and sensitively directed, with a powerful, subtle score by Claire M Singer.</p>
<p>I set Tell it to the Bees in 1950s Britain. It’s a love story between two women: a doctor, Jean (Paquin), and a factory worker, Lydia (Grainger). The novel is about prejudice and ignorance – attitudes that today would be called homophobia – and the violence this can produce. And at the heart of the novel is Charlie, Lydia’s ten-year-old son, played by Gregor Selkirk. Charlie sees everything, the love and the hate, and tries to understand. He’s an emotional barometer for what’s going on between all the adults.</p>
<p>Because of the turn my own life had taken, I was determined that my central female characters should have a happy ending: be able to make a life together as a couple. And from my research, I knew that this would have been far more difficult for them to achieve in Britain back then. They would almost certainly have faced a professional and legal whirlwind, stigmatised for their love, with drastic consequences. Jean would have lost her livelihood as a GP – and Lydia would have lost custody of her son.</p>
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<p>So by the time I wrote the ending, I’d decided that the two women, with Charlie, would have to leave Britain to have their happiness. Because in another country they could plausibly “fly beneath the radar” and be seen as eccentric foreigners rather than lesbians. Then Jean could still work as a doctor and Lydia could keep Charlie with her.</p>
<h2>Taking liberties</h2>
<p>The film has changed much of my original story. Of course it has. The book takes about seven hours to read, while the film is 106 minutes long – so some of the story has to go. Liberties must be taken for a film adaptation to work: novels and film scripts are like comparing apples to oranges.</p>
<p>So characters have been expunged and scenes cut, added or merged. Events have been invented and characters given very different parts to play at key points in the story. The eponymous bees are not simply an observable aspect of the world that Charlie lives in, but have become their own collective character with an important role in the story. And, most significantly, the ending has been changed.</p>
<p>A changed ending is nothing unusual. Ridley Scott gives Philip K. Dick’s story Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? a more optimistic ending in its screen adaption, Blade Runner. In Michael Crichton’s novel Jurassic Park, almost everyone dies, whereas almost everyone survives in Spielberg’s film. Stephen King <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/stephen-king-the-rolling-stone-interview-191529/">hated Kubrick’s adaptation of The Shining</a>, singling out the ending in particular: “The book is hot, and the movie is cold; the book ends in fire, and the movie in ice.”</p>
<p>And the reversed film ending of Jodie Picoult’s bestselling novel, My Sister’s Keeper, is a spectacular piece of film-making hubris. <a href="http://www.novelicious.com/2012/03/exclusive-novelicious-chats-tojodi-picoult.html">Picoult recalls</a> the director Nick Cassavetes telling her: “I’m not going to change [the ending]. If it does change, I’m going to tell you why and tell you myself.” Given the reversal that actually happened, maybe Cassavetes got cold feet: Picoult only found out accidentally, once filming had started. She was not pleased. Her view, widely shared, is that:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Authors have no involvement in adaptations. Hollywood thinks we are the least important piece of the puzzle, and by and large authors have zero control over a film. You give a baby up for adoption, you hope it goes to a good family and sometimes you’re disappointed.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>So given how common this is, why is the changed ending to Tell it to the Bees so significant? Type “<a href="http://www.theradicalnotion.com/lesbian-movie-endings/">lesbian endings</a>” into a search engine and you’ll find out. This is a lesbian happy ending altered by a straight director from sweet to “<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1tKkD6OJAy8&t=12s">bittersweet</a>”. People, and in particular lesbians, have got angry, and <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=tell%20it%20to%20the%20bees%20ending&src=typd&lang=en-gb">wondered aloud</a> why the girl can’t be allowed to get the girl. </p>
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<p>It’s not that fictional lesbian love stories should always end happily. But so often on screen the lesbian either has to <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0054743/">commit suicide</a>, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/tvandradioblog/2015/jan/20/last-tango-in-halifax-latest-victim-of-dead-lesbian-cliche">die tragically</a> or be a <a href="https://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/donotmigrate/3560559/Zoe-Heller-Metamorphosis.html">psychopath</a> – so giving lesbians a happy ending has come to be seen as a political act.</p>
<p>The screenwriters for Tell it to the Bees wanted to give the film a “sweeping romantic ending”, like Brief Encounter or Dr Zhivago. But they wanted them to have a divided happiness – one of them can have the happiness of staying in the town to have a fulfilling career; and the other can have the future happiness of finding love in a more tolerant place. But they can’t have those two things in the same place and with each other.</p>
<p>However, while I applaud the adaptation of my novel, and I was moved by the final kiss (two beautiful women together, proud and public, while people tut and stare), I am not in love with the ending. This bittersweetness is a straight person’s finale. I wanted my couple to have their cake and eat it together, for once: a fully romantic, fully happy, and therefore – in the context of lesbian fiction – a more radical ending.</p>
<p>So should I just settle for someone else’s beautiful [film ending] of my book? One story, two sets of parents, and two babies? Or next time, if there is one, should I raise my baby myself, to use Picoult’s metaphor? Though from what I hear, being the scriptwriter might be an equally difficult parenting experience.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/118639/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Fiona Shaw received a payment for the rights of her novel Tell it to the Bees from the makers of the film. She will receive royalties for new copies of the novel sold. </span></em></p>
There was an outcry in the LGBT community when the ending of Fiona Shaw’s bestselling novel was changed for the film.
Fiona Shaw, Senior Lecturer in Creative Writing, Northumbria University, Newcastle
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/118176
2019-06-09T23:21:58Z
2019-06-09T23:21:58Z
An intimate, arresting exhibition highlights the hard work of living queer
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278073/original/file-20190605-40738-1cicvrc.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Dallas Dellaforce, Queer Central, Imperial Hotel, Erskineville, 2018. 'Queerdom' presents an archive of queer and trans life in Sydney. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Queerdom/James Eades</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://imperialerskineville.com.au/queerdom/">Queerdom</a>, an exhibition showing at the Imperial Hotel in Erksineville, is an arresting and unsettling archive of queer and trans performances in Sydney. </p>
<p>A collaboration between photographer Jamie James and poet Quinn Eades, working here as James Eades, Queerdom presents a history of sexual and gender transgression that refuses containment and comfort. Instead, these works ask much more probing questions about the hard work of living and performing on the sexual and gender margins.</p>
<p>The exhibition aims to present what the artists term a “queertrans” history, from the 1990s until today – this term is a deliberate attempt by the artists to put these identities, practices and experiences into productive dialogue with each other.</p>
<p>Each work pairs a photograph of a queer or trans (or both) performance with poetry. In one sense this is an exhibition about live performances; stages and performers at the Imperial in Erskineville, Performance Space in Redfern, the Albury Hotel in Paddington, and Tap Gallery in Darlinghurst loom large. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278263/original/file-20190606-2768-1y0ggv1.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘falling in’, image: Stelladelight and Tank, Grumbalism, Red Rattler, Marrickville 2019.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Queerdom/James Eades</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Implicitly, the exhibition delineates a historical geography of queer performance – of dissidence moving westward, as queer alternatives have been pushed from Darlinghurst and Surry Hills to Redfern, Erskineville and Marrickville by rising rents and the cultural homogenisation that so often accompanies them. That this exhibition is taking place at the Imperial is a reminder of how important and vulnerable those spaces can be. </p>
<p>We see “Glitta Supernova” leaning back on stage at Fetish Ball in 1996, screaming in delight as she sprays orange liquid, Berocca we are assured, over her audience – and not from her mouth. “What’s so terrifying about piss”, we are asked. And what might happen if we just “let ourselves taste it … could we just acquiesce?”</p>
<h2>Life on the margins</h2>
<p>While this might be an exhibition about performance, words work in tandem and tension with these photographs to produce intimate accounts of life on the margins of the sexual and gender order more broadly. This exhibition has much to say about the emotional life of its subjects.</p>
<p>As any historian will tell you, archives are not simply repositories of data from the past – they are mediated representations of historical knowledge. This archive provokes and unsettles what we might expect to see in an exhibition about gender and sexuality, as we might well expect a queer project to do. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=488&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278273/original/file-20190606-2780-j7njl4.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=613&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘lost gays of Sydney’, image: Victoria Barracks, Albury Hotel, Oxford St, Darlinghurst, 2001.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Queerdom/James Eades</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In one sense, Queerdom is a powerful riposte to the comforting narratives that abounded in the campaign for same-sex marriage and its aftermath. Leaders in this campaign, as well as the exhibitions shaped by its politics during the 2018 Mardi Gras, tended to mobilise a story in which sexual minorities were making the final steps towards love, happiness and acceptance. </p>
<p>The story works something like this: sexual minorities in the past were caught in the trap of socially imposed shame and loneliness, unable to express and manifest their sexual and gender identities in public. The hard work of activism since the 1970s, not least in projects that spoke the language of liberation and pride, has offered a route to happiness and love. Gay and lesbian life, we are so often told, is all about love and a happy, shining couple finally able to get married. </p>
<p>This intimate exhibition of exuberant and modest moments has more challenging and discomforting things to say. </p>
<p>We see Kimo and Teik-Kim Pok, backstage at Carriageworks during the performance series Quick and Dirty in 2009, looking tired and confused, one performer wrapped in a towel with furrowed brow, the other looking pensively into a mirror. </p>
<p>This is not the golden couple of marriage equality. These friends (or lovers, or maybe just performers):</p>
<blockquote>
<p>turn to face each other / to catch a mirror’s silvered kiss / take steel into delicate throat / swallow a quiet sword or seven / say this is acceptance and not regret</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=373&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278264/original/file-20190606-2764-596fwc.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=469&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘appraisal’, image: Kimo and Teik-Kim Pok, Quick and Dirty, Performance Space, Carriageworks, 2009.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Queerdom/James Eades</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Of course, some of the pieces here can be yoked to a story of pride and celebration. There is a heathy dose of queer fabulosity on display. Photographs abound of performances exploding with pleasure and the thrill of gender and sexual transgression, however the poetry works hard to force the viewer to think carefully about what they are seeing and the easy thrill they might get from the labour of others.</p>
<p>While some critics might suggest the inclusion of poetry alongside these photographs makes their meaning rigid, leaving less space for ambiguity, these words do precisely the opposite – they force you to stop, they ask you questions. </p>
<p>A photograph of the performance “Axis of Evil” at Carriageworks in 2009 captures the performers back stage, in the familiar setting of a mirror-filled and clothes-strewn dressing room. Sinewy arms protrude and make up runs down faces.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>after crimson ribbons / five bodies bringing the house down / the thunk of twenty limbs on a juddering stage // now doubled in the dressing room / now grinning in the aftermath / now coming down in the detrius</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=396&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/278265/original/file-20190606-2750-16la5tq.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘the other side’, image: Axis of Evil, Quick and Dirty, Performance Space, Carriageworks 2009.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Queerdom/James Eades</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Through the inclusion of moments offstage, Queerdom asks us to consider the emotional cost of living and performing in ways where the narrative destination might not be a happy couple with easily recognisable gender identities. These are moments on the edges of difference. </p>
<p>We see performers looking wrung out, collapsing into one and other while also looking uncertain about what these moments might mean. </p>
<p>Here, life looks exhilarating, but also exhausting. Living in ways that don’t conform to the stories we like to tell about gender, sexuality and intimacy isn’t just a struggle for recognition. It’s the struggle against the terms under which that recognition is proffered – the desperate work of trying to exist and thrive in ways that make others so very uncomfortable.</p>
<p>“You know they’re still saying we’re monsters”, James Eades points out in the poem “taking the coverings off”. Maybe a bit of unsettling monstrosity is what we should be working towards, even if it is sometimes terrifying and exhausting.</p>
<p><em><a href="https://imperialerskineville.com.au/queerdom/">Queerdom</a> is showing upstairs at the Imperial Hotel, Erskineville until June 30.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/118176/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Leigh Boucher receives funding from the Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>
Queerdom, an exhibition of photography and poetry, presents a history of queer and trans performance in Sydney that challenges recent narratives about queer life in Australia.
Leigh Boucher, Senior Lecturer – Modern History, Macquarie University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/110045
2019-01-25T15:38:30Z
2019-01-25T15:38:30Z
The Favourite: at last we’re seeing lesbianism take centre stage in popular culture
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/255557/original/file-20190125-108367-11vugo3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">20th Century Fox</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Three of the most visible popular cultural texts of the past few months, the multiple-Oscar-tipped period film <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/dec/30/the-favourite-review-olivia-colman-emma-stone-rachel-weisz-yorgos-lanthimos">The Favourite</a>, Phoebe Waller-Bridge’s BBC crime drama <a href="https://theconversation.com/killing-eve-twisting-the-spy-genre-with-comedy-tragedy-and-strong-women-103809">Killing Eve</a> and Sally Rooney’s bestselling debut novel <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/jun/01/conversations-with-friends-by-sally-rooney-review">Conversations with Friends</a>, are evidence of a shift whereby queer female identities are at last gaining a modicum of mainstream exposure and legitimacy. </p>
<p>This change signals a much-needed move to bring the representation of Sapphism on a par with that of its male counterpart. While male stars from Oscar Wilde to David Bowie have made hip male gayness old news, lesbian icons are fewer and further between. Still frequently relegated to cult status, queer female figures in fiction have until recently been consigned to more literary or niche arthouse fare – such as Jeanette Winterson’s UK school-syllabus autobiographical novel <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2007/oct/20/jeanettewinterson">Oranges are Not the Only Fruit</a> (1985, later adapted for BBC Television) or “sophisticated” film dramas such as <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/News_Story/Critic_Review/Guardian_review/0,,1332467,00.html">My Summer of Love</a> (2004) or the French <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/culture/richard-brody/the-sexual-politics-of-blue-is-the-warmest-color">Blue is the Warmest Colour</a> (2013).</p>
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<p>More recently, US/Iranian film-maker <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2018/aug/12/desiree-akhavan-miseducation-of-cameron-post-mainstream-queer-female-stories">Desiree Akhavan</a>’s cinema and television work, including the 2018 film The Miseducation of Cameron Post, has been trailblazing yet remains outside truly mainstream circuits. But the glut of extremely popular stories about female-female desire proliferating across media suggests that mass culture is finally catching up.</p>
<h2>Queer still means strange</h2>
<p>But the resistance to normalising lesbianism is still a long way from being overcome. Several <a href="https://www.ft.com/content/c1266aa8-6c69-11e7-bfeb-33fe0c5b7eaa">reviews</a> of Conversations with Friends, widely hailed as announcing the voice of a new generation, emphasise the book’s originality in interrogating the meaning of friendship in the contemporary era – where your girl buddy may double up as a lover.</p>
<p>Yet readers of the novel could be forgiven for thinking they had strayed into a 19th-century Gothic novel such as Jane Eyre, given the focus of its central plot on a heterosexual romance between a neurotic young woman and a handsome and physically imposing troubled strong and silent type. The romantic relationship between the book’s protagonist Frances and her close female friend Bobbi barely gets a look in. Encounters between them are not described with anything approaching the rapturous eroticism of lines such as: “He put his hand on my waist and I felt my whole body lift toward him”. This very old-fashioned description emphasises a binary approach to sex in hackneyed terms of male dominance and female submission.</p>
<p>Rooney has <a href="https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/books-conversations-with-friends-by-sally-rooney-gf8zlgsdp">frequently been compared to</a> Waller-Bridge (as well as Lena Dunham, all three being linked by a commendably down-to-earth approach to depicting the female body). Killing Eve also remains superficial, not to say gimmicky, in its depiction of lesbianism. An adaptation of Luke Jennings’s <a href="https://www.publishersweekly.com/978-0-316-51252-7">Codename Villanelle novella series</a>, the BBC drama is noteworthy for its woman-centric casting as well as its portrayal of a female serial killer played by Jodie Comer. Comer’s Villanelle is openly bisexual and the story’s key twist is that the mutual fascination that exists between her and her pursuer Eve (the Golden Globe-winning Sandra Oh) may be sexually motivated.</p>
<h2>New narratives</h2>
<p>Like Rooney, Waller-Bridge is innovative in thinking through the radical social implications of lesbianism’s expansion in fiction as well as life. Classical theories of narrative – including 20th-century Canadian literary theorist <a href="https://macblog.mcmaster.ca/fryeblog/2009/11/11/frye-and-homosexuality-contd/">Northrop Frye</a>’s influential account of Shakespearean comedy – have identified one of Western fiction’s key stories as based on the exchange of women between men (typically fathers and suitors). More recent commentators such as the cultural theorist <a href="https://www.cmu.edu/cas/people/shumway_david.html">David Shumway</a> or the feminist and queer theorist <a href="http://evekosofskysedgwick.net/biography/biography.html">Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick</a> have seen this narrative as a cornerstone of how Western culture understands itself. </p>
<p>Conversations with Friends and Killing Eve both see the subversive potential of women’s liberation from this framework, recognising lesbianism as a game-changer. Reducing international spy operations to a flirtation between women is gently revisionist in the context of male-dominated crime fiction. Yet Eve’s libido is never fully explored, her queerness caricatured as a phallic gesture of dominance when she stabs Villanelle in the stomach on a bed in the series’ final scene.</p>
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<p>Villanelle’s lesbian urges are meanwhile paired with and sometimes indistinguishable from murderous ones. This combination contributes to the series’ second key conceit, which relies on the incongruity between the actress Comer’s feminine appearance and attractiveness and her character Villanelle’s ruthlessness and psychopathy. </p>
<h2>Breaking taboos</h2>
<p>The Favourite stakes a claim to status as the most progressive of the recent texts in its representation of female queerness, at least in terms of the sheer significance it accords to lesbianism. Something like a post-MeToo riposte to the Henry VIII narrative as recently popularised by Wolf Hall, which saw the fate of the church altered by Henry’s desire for Anne Boleyn, the film suggests that Queen Anne may have decreed an end to conflict with France in order to please a female lover being bribed by an MP. Such a reimagining of history as a function of inter-female relations is bold. </p>
<p>Olivia Colman’s virtuoso performance as the reputedly lesbian Queen Anne is facilitated by delicious, taboo-busting lines, such as her retort to her long-term lover Lady Sarah Churchill (Rachel Weisz) that she doesn’t think she will send her new maid (Emma Stone) away because she enjoys having the latter’s tongue inside her. Merchant Ivory this is not.</p>
<p>Neither the queen’s infantile tendencies nor her maid’s scheming ways move very far from negative stereotypes of femininity. But these behaviours are positioned as reactions to an intolerable lot that in both cases is gender-specific – Anne has lost 11 children and her maid has been sold as a concubine. Moreover, casting such accomplished and popular actresses as the embodiment of female queer is itself a symbol of progress. </p>
<p>All these texts are moving in the right direction – and probably about as quickly as broad audiences will allow. After all, such fictions remain embedded within a (patriarchal) culture still keenly aware of the threats to the status quo that the mainstreaming of Sapphism implies.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/110045/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Mary Harrod receives funding from the British Academy.</span></em></p>
The hit film about a lesbian Queen Anne is the latest in a wave of films, TV series and books which make woman on woman sexuality a central theme.
Mary Harrod, Associate Professor (School of Modern Languages and Cultures), University of Warwick
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/101820
2018-08-21T04:25:17Z
2018-08-21T04:25:17Z
The Coming Back Out Ball is a film that honours queer elders, but avoids rocking the boat
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232817/original/file-20180821-30602-301589.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Melbourne Town Hall lit up with the rainbow for the Coming Back Out Ball. </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Youtube</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: The Coming Back Out Ball</em></p>
<hr>
<p>At a time of increasing threats to basic civic decency, the acceptance of LGBTIQ rights, as they are often called, has become a comfort blanket for progressively-minded people. In the year following the marriage debate, it is not surprising that the Melbourne International Film Festival chose <a href="http://miff.com.au/program/film/miff-closing-night-gala-the-coming-back-out-ball-movie">The Coming Back Out Ball</a> as their closing night gala event.</p>
<p>The Coming Back Out Ball is a documentary of an event of the same name held in October 2017 in the Melbourne Town Hall. It aimed to include and honour elders of the LGBTIQ community. (The indigenous use of “elder” is increasingly used in queer political circles.) It was an extraordinary event, attended by hundreds of people — for those in the community over 65 it was free — which combined dinner, dancing and a floorshow compered by Robyn Archer.</p>
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<p>As journalist Gay Alcorn wrote in a <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/oct/10/ive-seen-it-all-lgbti-elders-come-back-out-at-the-ball">long and loving account</a> of the Ball: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>They arrived in sequins and feathers, six-inch heels and pancake makeup. They arrived, too, in T-shirts and hiking boots, frocking up for no one. There were walking sticks and wheelchairs, a blind man with a guide dog, a woman with a shirt saying “This is what an old lesbian looks like”. This was their night, and they’d come as they please.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The film sets out to show the lead up to the Ball, but particularly to tell the story of 12 of the “elders” whose stories helped inspire a younger generation to organise the event. Central to this story is the performance artist Tristan Meecham, who over several years worked with his collaborator Bec Reid to provide space for queer elders to join together in social dancing.</p>
<p>Tristan and Bec appear briefly in the film, but I left wanting to know much more about what drove Tristan to become such a central figure in creating a remarkable institution, one that says a lot about the city and state governments as well as the richness of queer cultural life in Melbourne.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=425&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=425&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=425&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=534&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=534&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232796/original/file-20180821-30608-1mkqso8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=534&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Guests arrive at the ball in Melbourne.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Youtube</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The film concentrates largely on a group of older lesbians, gay men, one transwoman and one intersex person, all of whom tell stories of living their lives under the shadow of ignorance, self-denial and sometimes persecution. A couple of the women in particular are remarkable characters, lightening up the screen by the sheer force of their personality.</p>
<p>But the problem with trying to tell social history through individual stories is that it can only capture certain strands. One of the men referred to a partner long dead from AIDS. The only long lasting partnerships depicted are two heterosexual marriages, one between two people who conveniently both discovered their homosexual desires and separated amicably, the other a transwoman whose marriage has been stretched by her transition at the age of 60.</p>
<p>There are plenty of older lesbians and gay men living in very long established relationships, but we do not see them. Unconsciously the film reproduces some of the sillier claims of the marriage movement, that only with legal recognition could queers form committed lifelong partnerships.</p>
<p>At least one of the women in the film has a long history of activism, as her flamboyant t-shirts make clear, but political agency is denied in the stories, except for a couple of passing clips from early gay liberation protests. The film tells us that things have become easier for those of us who live outside the heterosexual norm; it makes no attempt to tell us why.</p>
<p>Yet many of the early activists were at the Ball that evening, and it would have been easy to have spoken with some of them. Strong as the personalities on film are, they almost all reinforced a certain monolithic picture of victimhood and concealment that suits the progressive narrative.</p>
<p>There have been several Australian cinemographic attempts to capture the changes in attitudes towards sexual and gender fluidity in the past year. Jeffery Walker’s film <a href="https://iview.abc.net.au/show/riot">Riot</a> focused on a very different story, namely the Gay and Lesbian Pride Parade in Sydney in 1978 which led to massive police reaction, and became the basis for the city’s Mardi Gras. Riot was of course a very political film, but again one that told the story of queer progress through the lives of a few individuals, making a couple far more significant than they actually were at the time. </p>
<p>Telling the story of social and political change requires key individuals with whom we can identify, and I applaud the makers of The Coming Back Out Ball for using people who are not already well known.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=326&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=326&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=326&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/232791/original/file-20180821-30593-6qf13g.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=409&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Coming Back Out Ball evolved from social dances held in Melbourne for queer elders.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Youtube</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But this device also risks oversimplification, and painting an anodyne picture of history. The underlying message of The Coming Back Out Ball seems to be that now we can all find our authentic selves, and perhaps live happily ever after, if not necessarily for very long.</p>
<p>This assumes that there is an authentic self, and that political progress allows us the freedom to find our “true identity”. Yet as the British critic <a href="https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/desire-a-memoir-9781350023147/">Jonathan Dollimore wrote</a>: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>It’s one of the delusions of identity politics to think that our desire comfortably coexists with our identity, a belief which has more to do with consumerism than desire. I’ve come to feel that sexuality might at different times express different aspects of one’s self, a situation further complicated by the fact that the self changes.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>My memory of the Ball is that it both reinforced and subverted identities, that it allowed people to mix across lines of gender, sexuality and age in ways that should not be reduced to the <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-term-lgbti-confuses-desire-behaviour-and-identity-its-time-for-a-rethink-90175">politically acceptable terminology that confuses sexual desire, gender expression and physical experience</a>. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-term-lgbti-confuses-desire-behaviour-and-identity-its-time-for-a-rethink-90175">The term 'LGBTI' confuses desire, behaviour and identity – it's time for a rethink</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>As I grow older I am happy to be honoured, and I loved the women who early on in the film talk about the need for an early start and a sit down dinner. But for one evening at least the Ball allowed people to mingle across lines of class, gender and, above all, generations.</p>
<p>The film ends with a very uplifting moment for one of the women, which I will conscientiously not reveal. But somewhere it lost the exuberance and magic that Tristan conjured up that evening in the Melbourne Town Hall. The best news of the night is that the Ball will happen again later this year.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>The Coming Back Out Ball screened as part of the Melbourne International Film Festival.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/101820/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Dennis Altman does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
In the midst of the same-sex marriage debate, Melbourne held The Coming Back Out Ball, an evening to honour queer elders.
Dennis Altman, Professorial Fellow in Human Security, La Trobe University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.