Ambiguity and Rupaul’s Drag Race

I love watching Rupaul’s Drag Race because it is so entertaining, because I admire the confidence and the bravery of these women to create their own identities, to inquire, as Season 1’s winner, Bebe, did “What makes a strong man?” Despite teaching the viewing audience invaluable lessons like “White pumps are the mark of a true hooker”, I feel it has helped the proliferation of acceptance of varied presentations of gender, but the whole idea of drag is performance. Drag is the performance of gender, of women especially or at least the form of woman that the drag queens idolize, but there is still variation in interpretation: from Season 1, Ongina was called a “lady-boy” because she did not wear wigs and Nina Flowers takes the androgynous role because she is tattooed and muscley.

In the show, the contestants are expected to do all their own make-up, to sew their own dresses, provide all sorts of performance in hiding their goods in order to present “realness.” This is no America’s Next Top Model because those women are already “real.” When they are competing in the smaller challenges, they dress as men, but does this mean we should refer to them as “he” or still “she”? What is the dialogue between the feminine and the masculine person when they are women walking on the catwalk and when they are men going through the world? What I found most interesting in studying the drag culture is the fact that these men are not necessarily gay, do not cross-dress in the daylight, and do not pursue a transsexual identity. Here I have a problem with naming because I have a tendency to try to understand any situation from the privileged heterosexual point of view; I know just because a man is gay does not mean he wants to be a woman, and two gay men in a relationship do not fit into the traditional masculine/feminine dynamic of strength/weakness, but I am still confused.

In one challenge, they are “marrying” their two identities in a photo shoot, dressed in one aspect as a man, and then as a woman. They are creating an illusion, as one contestant says the “story of my life.” But how do they feel about performing masculinity as a facial-haired, suit wearing, tough guy? Pandora Boxx says, “I feel like I’m a girl dressed as a guy.”

Having watched Paris is Burning, I have a new appreciation for these men because they are so much more aware of their place as marginalized people. They have to work so much harder for fame, to be “legendary.” Not only are they models, but they are performers expected to “lip sync for their lives” and to have an engaging diva persona. Drag is an escape from societal expectations of masculinity; it does, however, represent an extremely stereotypical feminine identity that could be construed as more traditional than revolutionary.  I wonder what you all think.

A new show on Vh1 is call “TRANSform Me” and on it, three transwomen makeover women who clearly need it. We realize that all gender is performative by nature, and that each person must learn for his/herself how to perform that gender to become a functioning member of society and to allow people to classify them better. Why can’t we handle a little ambiguity? Why do I have to wonder if that person standing over there is a girl or a boy? Why do I have to ask in conversation whether the Doctor is female or male in order to refer to him/her? Why don’t we have a singular third person pronoun that’s not “it” to use in situation like this? I don’t have the answer.

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Hip-Hop’s (Queer) Poker Face

(Make sure to listen to the video at the end of the blog)

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I wrote this piece last semester in a class focused on the sociology of sexuality. With the growing discourse on hip-hop, particularly in regards to a piece that was written in our class on hip-hop, I thought this could serve as an alternative interpretation to hip-hop. Please let me know what you think!

Recent debates about hip-hop’s misogynist, homophobic, violent, and materialistic nature and lyrics have permeated the airwaves for some time now.  Commentators and politicians often point to your typical suspects—black men—for the demise of our culture, exploitation of women, and indoctrination of children.  Hip-Hop has been the shame of the nation, yet has brought vast amounts of wealth to record label executives and campaign contributors. This on going fight with hip-hop has even emerged within feminist communities. Often reiterating the concerns that have been voiced by politicians and faith based groups.

As I lay curled up in my bed my, waiting for my morning alarm to go off, I get a rather interesting surprise. Instead of the typical morning inspirational mix, with all my “you can do it” music, Kid Cudi’s Make Her Say featuring Kanye West, Common, and a sampling of Lady GaGa’s Poker Face as background seeped slowly into my ears like Blackstrap Molasses with pounding beats and incessant  “Pa-Pa-Pa’s.” I had no other choice but to get up. After listening to the song I began to really like it.  Indeed, it made me say, “oh ah oh oh ah ah ah oh oh.” But what I found most interesting, if we divorce ourselves from negative articulations about hip-hop and suspend our disbeliefs was that this song was indeed, if read differently, an atypical discourse about gender and sexuality. Could it be that hip-hop is a conduit for queer desires?

Cudi’s Make Her Say gives that impression. Within the first few lines we hear Cudi’s and GaGa’s voices intertwining (like sex) to make a rhythmic melody, each with a purpose.  As we hear GaGa saying, “Pa-Pa-Pa Poker Her Face” Cudi interrupts and says, “Me First.” Initially, this “me first” makes no sense until one is finished listening to the song. How might one be able to read the “me first” statement? If we are to take all the discourse that is involved in this song, then what is suggested is that we’re working with queer relationships. “Me first” can represent a multiple sex partner encounter. In other words, Cudi may be the first to engage in a sexual encounter with our female character. Cudi’s verse continues to undermine traditional gender norms in regards to sexuality because it is stated, “ She wanna have whatever she like/she can if she bring her friend/ and we can have one hell of a night.” The initial lines highlights female agency. Our female character is able to articulate what she wants, further it can be read that by bringing her friend—be they male of female—Cudi, the female character, and the friend will engage in sexual behavior. They challenge, as was describe by Gayle Rubin, portions of the charmed circle that value heterosexuality and monogamous dyads. The engagement of a threesome subverts that.  Finally, in Cudi’s verse he states, “Now I ain’t got trip bout them niggas who like her/ cuz me and mommy know, who could really make her go.” A few initial thoughts have to do with the idea of a male not being jealous about other men being attracted to a female he is involved with. Victoria Robinson states in her My Baby Just Cares for Me: Feminism, Heterosexuality and Non-Monogamy that “jealousy is considered in terms of how it upholds the institution and ideology of monogamy (Robinson, 1). Further, that non-monogamy can inform and transform heterosexual relationships and other social relations” (Robinson). Within this non-monogamous relationship that has formed, jealousy and “control” as perpetuated by the male is not evident. In fact, he could care less what other men might do because both him and her know who turns her on the most, which is revealed at the end of the song.

The hook of the song is a challenge towards non-procreative sex—oral sex. Rubin, again, classifies this outside the “charmed circle”; however, this is amendable particularly if you’re comparing homo/hetero oral sex.  In our case,perhaps, it is hetero oral sex.

West’s verse of the song, perhaps, is the best in terms of challenging gender and sexual norms. Again, much like Cudi’s initial line, West discusses the agency of this female.  “She say she want whatever she like/ she say she gonna bring her friend/ and we gonna have a hell of a night/ through the day.”  This is a female articulating her desires. Furthermore, she informs Kanye of her plans to bring a friend. Some may assume that her friend is a female, but that is to operate within heteronormative lenses. It its very well possible that she may bring a male friend or a transgender friend. West’s verse continues to discuss the power of this woman and his weakness. “Getting brain (oral sex) in the library cuz I love knowledge/ when you use your medulla oblongata (head)/ and give me scoliosis until I comatoses.” This represents the vulnerability and weakness of West at that moment. He can become weak, feeble, and unable to move from this woman. Our female character has strength. It is similar to Lynne Segal’s argument that there is a heightened discourse that men are dominant in sex. This narrative has to be upheld because not to would show the vulnerability of men and open various sexual avenues for subversion by women.

Common’s verse offers least to my queer reading of this song, except for, again, the notion of female agency. Our female character demands what she wants and then requests that Common brings one of his friends!
Finally, the part that offers the most potential is GaGa’s last verse: “can’t read my, can’t read my/ no he can’t read on my poker face/ she got me like nobody.” The joke essentially is on us, perhaps excluding Cudi (after all he did write it). However, the only one who can really please her is a woman. During sex these men can’t read her poker face, they can’t see where she ultimately finds the most pleasure (“she’s got me like nobody”).

To me this suggests that hip-hop, like all other things can be queered. This narrative that is offered can challenge the Second Wave discussions of how hip-hop oppresses women and maintains power dynamics among men and women. This one song does not speak to the entirety of hip-hop, nor does my reading reflect how most will analyze the work. However, what Cudi’s song can make us say is that hip-hop might and probably does have a pa-pa-pa poker face pa- pa Poker Face!

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Inside-Out

I’ve been thinking quite a lot about the trans body and its place in a space primarily comprised of non-trans bodies — specifically, non-trans/non-friendly bodies.

I often feel like that one trans kid in a group of people, whether it be the classroom, or visiting casually with friends. I’m the representative of a group of people who all think and experience in completely different ways from myself, and, yet, share a collective domain with me in a way that non-trans individuals, in my opinion, cannot.  (This certainly isn’t to discredit the bodily experiences of others, but to acknowledge the very distinct differences of these experiences in question.) The common reaction to the trans body is that of discomfort, confusion, and/or preconceived generalizations involving undertones of disrespect, disbelief, and discredit. These relationships between the trans and non-trans spheres involve serious dynamics within a strong power structure.

To be trans is to be marginalized, and to be marginalized is to be pushed outwardly, away from the “center,” away from the common denominators that seem to be hidden underneath so much of what creates “normality” in our social structures. I think here, though, is a perfect example of Foucault’s concept of power and its tendency towards constant fluctuation between points, rather than a linear construction, where one end withholds power from the other. (I like to think of Foucault’s idea of power as being cousin to the law of conservation of mass. Power or energy can’t be destroyed or created, but maintained within a closed system.)

The body can be a mode of resistance. My body is a point within this closed system, where I create power in answer to the power being formed by the center. Every inch of hair that grows on my skin, every note lower that my voice crawls down — every time I feel that 1cc of thick, hormonal stuff being pushed into my muscle, I am creating a very physical answer to the non-trans voice that says I shouldn’t exist, that I shouldn’t have a place within.

The trans body is used as a place of politics, identity, social commentary, gender (non)conformity, creation (and reinvention), protest, pleasure, power; for the first time in my academic career, I have taken a theory from a book and not only been able to aptly apply it to my life, but understand the way I move through that life in a way I never before could articulate. The body is a source of mobility when the brain feels stationary or stagnant, whether it be through body modification, or simply putting on a new set of clothes. The experience of the flesh is, for me, an experience of strength.

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The Will to Know, Or a Textbook Case

Remember when we thought the textbook held the answers? When they gave the precise summing up? Remember when the textbook gave, what we thought to be, the unbiased opinion?  When we thought “knowledge” was the end all, be all—simple in nature, right or wrong in origin? Recently, I was having a conversation with my partner and he began to speak about a text he was reading for his class. What I found interesting was the content that he discussed in the text. It got me thinking about power, control, and the uses of knowledge as an instrument of power.

At my partner’s school they use at text entitled Psychology Applied to Modern Life, 9^th edition by Wayne Weiten, Margaret A. Lloyd, Dana S. Dunn, and Elizabeth Y. Hammer. This text was published in 2008.  Now, in this conversation, my partner was discussing chapter 13 of the text, which focuses on Development and Expression of Sexuality. He found the chapter to be “interesting,” to say the least. I found it disturbing. One excerpt gave me great concern:

Anal intercourse involves insertion of the penis into a partner’s anus and rectum. Legally, it is termed sodomy (and is still considered illegal in some states.) About 25% of men and women report that they have practiced anal sex at least once (Laumann et al., 1994). Anal intercourse’s more popular among homosexual male couple than among heterosexual couples. However, even among gay men it ranks behind oral sex and mutual masturbation in prevalence. Anal sex is risky, as rectal tissues are easily torn, facilitating HIV transmission.

The other part of the book that raises an eyebrow is labeled under a section entitled, of all things, “Prevention.”  One sentence, I found very curious: “because HIV is easily transmitted through anal intercourse, it’s good to avoid this type of sex.” Let’s begin with the initial quote aforementioned. Did you see what is wrong?  It’s the second sentence: “legally, it is termed sodomy (and is still considered illegal in some states)”. Not exactly Weiten et al. You must be talking about states in non developed countries because laws banning sodomy in the United States were stricken down by the 2003 case Lawrence v. Texas that held: “consensual, adult homosexual intercourse as illegal sodomy violated the privacy and liberty of adults to engage in private intimate conduct under the 14th amendment.” So, firstly this textbook sets up a premise that is faulty and not historically and jurisprudentially correct.  And why are the educators still using this book?

The other disturbing aspect of the text is its treatment of anal intercourse. On two occasions anal intercourse is projected in a negative light. The first states: “even among gay men it ranks behind oral sex and mutual masturbation in prevalence. Anal sex is risky, as rectal tissues are easily torn, facilitating HIV transmission.” This understanding of anal intercourse signifies, or at least attempts to signify that something is “wrong” or “abnormal” about anal intercourse. Embedded in this description is an assumption that anal intercourse is “dirty” and “shameful,” worst of all it suggests that anal intercourse, the preferred method of intercourse among, gay and bisexual men, is “dangerous.” This understanding of anal intercourse places fear at its center subtly implying that something is wrong with it and once should avoid it like the plague (i.e. HIV=the gay disease). That, my friend, is what can be called heteronormativity. It takes a practice that is vastly experienced by homosexuals and makes it sick, dangerous, and problematic.

The second encounter with regard to anal intercourse was in the section labeled prevention, which explicitly stated: “because HIV is easily transmitted through anal intercourse, it’s good to avoid this type of sex.” Avoid anal intercourse? What else are we supposed to do? Stop breathing because Influenza pathogens are apparently airborne? Are straight people told don’t partake in vaginal sex because Chlamydia, gonorrhea, Hepatitis C, HPV, Syphilis, and HTLV-I can all be deadly? Is it almost codified in the books secular universities adopt to teacher their students?

Just as important in the passage was the assumption that the monogamous dyad was the order of things. It states: “Anal intercourse’s more popular among homosexual male couples than among heterosexual couples.” Now last I remember couples indicate two. This evoking of “couples” indicates that two is the norm, even among us queers—nice and natural, as it should be.

The text makes no mention of practices that can lessen the risk of exposure to HIV/AIDS such a condom usage, the use of water based lubricants, an honest relationship with your sexual partners, frequent check-ups and testing, de-stigmatization of HIV/AIDS, and comprehensive sexual education programs in schools.

“The will to know” is often situated within the larger culture, which is heterosexist among with other “supremacy crimes.” Educators and learners must be cautious about what is given as fact and fiction. We must remain cognizant of  the “threadbare lies” that are perpetuated as “objective,” “rational,” “scientific,” and “scholarly.”  My partner’s and I experience with “knowledge” is just another textbook case of heterosexism, heteronormativity, and the erasure of queer sexualities and relationships.

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Malcolm X as Trade?

In a piece written by Marc Lamont Hill in 2006 entitled “Malcolm X Was Gay?” he describes an exchange that took place between him and a friend regarding Malcolm X’s sexuality. Below is part of the piece:

[m]y friend turns to my bookshelf and notices a copy of Bruce Perry’s 1991 biography on Malcolm X.

“Is it good?” he asked.

“Yes. It was helpful for showing how complex Malcolm was.”

“Word?”

“Yeah. Especially around sexuality”

“What you mean?”

“You know, about Malcolm being bisexual.”

“Get the f$&% outta here!”

For example, childhood schoolmate Bob Bebee recounts an interaction between him, Malcolm, and a local boy who they caught masturbating. Malcolm, Bebee recalled, ordered the boy to masturbate him, and later bragged that the boy had given him oral sex. Numerous sources, including close family members, confirm that Malcolm earned money by “servicing queers.” According to Malcolm’s sidekick Malcolm (“Shorty”) Jarvis, he was paid to sprinkle a wealthy Boston bachelor with talcum powder and bring him to orgasm.

Malcolm’s acts weren’t always done for pecuniary reasons. In Flint, his former roommate said, Malcolm would often go down the hall and sleep with Willie Mae, a gay transvestite.

What I find fascinating about this exchange are several things. The first has to do with the utter shock that Malcolm X, a staple in American history (be he the ultimate white person hater or freedom fighter) could, after all be queer? It seems Hill’s friend assumption about authentic (black) leaders hinges on a straight identity. Forcing Malcolm to be straight and not as anything other limits the potential we have for reimaging Black masculinity as well as the political possibilities for Black gays and lesbians (Hill, 2006). But the other aspect that I find fascinating is the notion of Malcolm being bisexual or gay.

Hill’s piece, though very interesting, makes what could be a very interesting, complex discussion about sexual practices and identification into a was he gay thing? Thus masking the very complex understanding of sexuality. Could it be that Malcolm X wasn’t gay, straight, or bisexual? Could it be he was just seen as “normal” by that period’s understandings of gender and sexuality?

One thing we understand is that Malcolm spent some time in New York City as was apart of the working, husslin’ class. We also understand based on the groundbreaking work of John D’Emilio and George Chauncey that sexuality was more complex than the homo/hetero binary or of the language we have at our disposal, currently, to limn and make intelligible our understandings of sex. As Steve Valocchi states in the a 1999 piece, The Class-Inflected Nature of Gay Identity, “men were not gay or straight but pansies, husbands, trade, jockers, and queers (211).

So when thinking about Malcolm X’s sex(uality) life it may be more fruitful to use the understandings that were available to him at the time, in other words context is important. For instance, the recounting of Malcolm receiving oral sex, or “servicing queers,” or sleeping with a transvestite (a pansy) suggests not of him being gay or bisexual but of his tradeness.

According to Chauncey (1994) in his book, Gay New York: Gender, Urban Culture, and the Making of the Gay Male World 1890-1940, “trade was…used to refer to straight-identified men who worked as prostitutes serving gay-identified men…to refer to ‘straight’ men who had sex with queers or fairies for pleasure rather than money” (70).

So this puts forth a very complex understanding of how we can view Malcolm X’s sexual history. What is important for us to think about is the complexity of person and the importance of context. If anything we should realize that there are many ways to perform both gender and sexuality.

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Roy Ashburn is Gay

So, I will be honest and say that I had no idea who Roy Ashburn was until yesterday, but his story is not an unfamiliar one. Roy Ashburn is a Republican State Representative from California who actively supported Proposition Eight in 2008. Mr. Ashburn crashed his state car while drunk driving in the wee hours of the morning, but immediately the story was about where he had been previously in the evening, a gay night club in Sacramento, and his guest in the car, another man. Now, as a concerned citizen I am certainly more disturbed by the image of an elected official drunk driving a state owned vehicle, but I a must be in the minority. Since this incident, Mr. Ashburn has “come out” as a gay man, but maintains that when acting as a lawmaker, his responsibilities are to his constituents and should not be affected by his own sexuality, therefore justifying his anti-gay rights stance.

This story is not an unusual story for conservative politicians or other outspoken public figures. Lately we have been learning about queer subcultures; from leather to drag, these subcultures provide places and identities for gay or queer identifying people to belong. What about people who do not want to belong? In other words, what about people like Roy Ashburn, who want to participate in the sexual acts associated with homosexuality without the identity or the community. Should Ashburn be criticized for having gay sex but not supporting gay rights, or is it his choice whether or not he should identify with his sexuality? And what does it say about us as a society that we are so focused on the sexuality aspect of this story that, it seems to me, more people want Ashburn to resign because he is gay than because he drove a car with a BAC of .14?

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Hip Hoppin Out The Closet (Ain’t No Fun If The Homies Can’t Have None)

I heard a rumor the other day that Jay-Z is gay. Scandalous, I know. You probably know too because I bring it up to anyone and everyone I can. I don’t know why I am so fixated on one person’s sexuality (and why do I think it is any of my business). Here’s what I have come to realize my fixation is based upon: a gay rapper is so out of the ordinary, so completely foreign that I just can’t wrap my head around it!

Gay musicians are a dime a dozen. We embrace their sexuality as a part of their persona. They too embrace their sexuality and use it to sell their music. Mika, Adam Lambert, Elton John! So why is the hip-hop community so lacking? Surely, there are homosexuals in the hip-hop community, don’t ya think!? Is it what the hip-hop community advocates that makes it so hard for one to come out?

In the 70s and 80s, the message hip-hop sent was that of a revolution: tough guys fightin’ the man and the machine. Now that hip-hop has become an institution, rappers can get rich talking about the ladies they’ve got in their beds, the guns they carry and the cash they have. There is a sense of roughness, toughness, of men who have come from nothing, stuck in the shadows, and gained notoriety and fortune through their lyrics. This struggle from silence to noise, from nothing to everything reminds me of our conversations about the struggle to come out. Suddenly, your secret is everyone’s knowledge. I would think, then, that rappers and gays might have more of camaraderie; as groups of people who have been silenced and still persevered. Yet, over and over the message in rap songs objectifies woman, promotes male chauvinism and heteronormativity. So maybe Jay-Z is gay. Maybe Kanye’s gay. Who knows? But it doesn’t matter. It’s about the message that hip-hop sends, who it reaches, and the ability that hip-hop has, as the institution it has become, to make a different, more accepting, more open society.

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