Miz Cracker’s Guide to Being a Queen on Halloween
Drag, as we've explored in Outward before, is an artform that demands a considerable amount of commitment. And yet each year on or around Oct. 31, many people—especially many gay men—decide on a whim to try their heretofore unpolished hands at queendom. Tacky wigs are pulled on backward, borrowed heels are crammed onto untrained feet, best girlfriends misguidedly apply tasteful makeup, and groan-inducing “drag names” like Jenna Sayqua are loosed upon the world—all in the service of an ill-considered “costume.”
For decades, professional queens have looked askance at this behavior from beneath their giant lashes; but this year, Outward's resident drag expert, Miz Cracker, has deigned to trade shade for salvation. If this All Hallows' Eve will be, as Junior LaBeija so memorably puts it in Paris Is Burning, your “first time in drags,” you'd do well to study Cracker's rules for success. After all, as RuPaul herself has taught us, when doing drag the most important rule of all is: “Don't fuck it up.” Happy Halloqueen!
Sperm Banks Magnify Their Clients’ Prejudices. Lesbians Can Help Change That.
More than 30 years ago, a millionaire eugenicist created the first sperm-donor catalog. Its purpose was to entice married women with infertile husbands into joining his scheme to create genetically superior humans. (You can read more about this in David Plotz's Slate series “Seed” and in his book The Genius Factory.) Today, lesbian women make up a large segment of the market for donated sperm. But, as far as I’m aware, the lesbian community has never had a public discussion about the troubling, eugenics-influenced aspects of donor selection. Instead, we've quietly gone along with the assumptions of an industry that originated in heterosexual women's desire to find a visual match for their infertile husbands, so as to keep their children’s origins a secret.
Prospective parents naturally want to give their children the best possible start in life. For most couples, this means regular ob-gyn visits, abstaining from caffeine and alcohol, and looking after the mother-to-be’s health. But for those who need donor sperm in order to conceive, the desire to do right by baby takes on a whole other dimension. In the quest for the finest available male gametes, impersonal demographic tables are consulted, options are weighed, and prejudices about what makes one person better than the next are amplified.
Why Is an Obscure 1968 Documentary in the Opening Credits of Transparent?
The opening titles of Transparent, the critically acclaimed series currently streaming on Amazon Prime, are culled mostly from video clips of bar and bat mitzvah videos from the 1960s to the ’90s—ending with the time code “JAN. 1 1994.” It’s a nostalgic montage that alludes to a crucial turning point in the show’s narrative: the year that Mort Pfefferman, played by Jeffrey Tambor, begins to come out as Maura—a transgender woman.
But a moment before the main show title comes up, the montage of party shots cuts momentarily, almost seamlessly, to a figure in a shimmering blue dress. This is a clip from Frank Simon’s 1968 film The Queen, a rarely seen and ground-breaking documentary of the 1967 New York Miss All-America Camp Beauty Pageant. The film is one of the earliest screen portrayals of the lives of “female impersonators”—some identifying as gay men, some beginning to identify as trans women.
Taken together, the clips could be the introduction to a gender studies course: What does it mean for the bar mitzvah boy to “become a man,” and the drag queen to “become a woman”? As Maura explains in the second episode while coming out to her eldest daughter, she has not begun to dress as a woman: “All my life, my whole life, I’ve been dressing up like a man.” But the use of The Queen in Transparent’s opening also hints at the ways trans identities and communities have evolved, both in the decades since the documentary’s release and over the years of Maura’s life—clearly, these titles are doing more work than it might first appear.
The Queen was first screened at Cannes in 1968 and soon after opened in movie theaters in New York, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and Boston, among other cities. Filmed over five days with five cameras, the documentary is largely narrated by emcee and pageant organizer Flawless Sabrina—listed in the credits as Jack Doroshow—who has brought together contestants from around the country: Miss Boston, Miss Chicago, Miss Brooklyn, Miss Fire Island. The film depicts the contestants as they rehearse for stage numbers, prepare their outfits and wigs, and finally as they compete before a full auditorium. Flawless Sabrina, in the persona of what she calls “bar mitzvah mother … you know, gaudy gowns and pushy,” coaches and directs. “Five points for walk, five points for talk, five for bathing suit, five for gown, five for makeup and hairdo, and 10 for beauty.” The film is, in many ways, a predecessor of Paris Is Burning, Jennie Livingston’s 1990 documentary of the Harlem drag ball community. (One of the Queen contestants glimpsed in Transparent’s opening is Crystal LaBeija, a commanding performer who would go on to found one of New York’s more legendary ball houses.)
The making of The Queen was spearheaded by Flawless Sabrina herself. Speaking with me recently over the phone, she described first arriving in New York in 1957, just out of college. She took a room at the Sloane House YMCA near Penn Station, and soon discovered “some kids” getting dressed down the hall in preparation for a drag ball at the Manhattan Center. Soon after, she began organizing pageants of her own, and by the mid-1960s, began raising money to make the film. The goal was to capture a world she felt was quickly “evaporating.” “We had been a totally sub-rosa, clandestine situation, and now we were becoming more illuminated,” she said. “It had become a social curiosity for some rich kids that were slumming, sort of a look at the underbelly.” Andy Warhol eventually led an effort to raise money for the film, and his clout helped bring in a starry list of judges including columnist Liz Smith, artist Larry Rivers, Grove Press editor Barney Rossett, and writers Terry Southern and Rona Jaffe. Timothy Leary showed up in drag, and Warhol superstar Mario Montez gave a performance of “Diamonds Are a Girl’s Best Friend.”
But the most revealing and intimate moments of the film are in the hotel where the contestants stay in the days leading up to the pageant. Diverse in race and age, they perform for one another, prepare each other’s makeup, and share stories about their families, their lovers, and their lives outside the “drag bag.” One contestant recalled going before the draft board: “He asked me about boys, and I said, you know, I like boys, so he said, ‘Next!’ ” Another was told, “You really should have been a girl, it’s too much, we can’t use you.”
Their stories reveal the extent to which understandings of gender identity and sexuality were in flux. Only a year before The Queen was made, Johns Hopkins Hospital opened the Gender Identity Clinic, the first university medical program to offer hormone treatments and sex reassignment surgeries. It was big news, with headlines in Time and Newsweek and on the front page of the New York Times. As scholar Susan Stryker puts it in her book Transgender History, the opening of the clinic, along with the founding of similar research and treatment programs across the country, inaugurated “what could be called ‘The Big Science’ period of transgender history.”
But expanding medical interventions also led many people to make sharper distinctions between gay and trans identities. One of the contestants in The Queen explains, “I have enough money to go through the sex change, and I live only 30 miles from Johns Hopkins, but it’s the last thing I would want. I know that I’m a drag queen, I’ve been a drag queen for a long time, I’ve been gay for a long time. But I certainly do not want to become a girl, even if I could have a baby.”
Harlow—the eventual winner of the pageant—would, on the other hand, go on to have sex reassignment surgery a few years later. Now known as Rachel Harlow, she opened several successful nightclubs in Philadelphia and nearly married Grace Kelly’s brother John Kelly, Jr.—a city councilman and Olympic gold medalist. As Flawless Sabrina recalled, “Harlow’s feeling about the drag thing was that that was another lifetime. After Harlow got the change, she became a woman, and even though she was quite well known in the capacity of having been trans, she really still set that aside and she became very much a woman—as she is today.”
Such efforts to stake out the boundaries between identity groups were typical of the time. As historian Joanne Meyerowitz shows in her book How Sex Changed, self-identified gay men and lesbians as well as “transvestites” and “transsexuals” (the most commonly used terms of the time) frequently defined themselves in contrast to, and sometimes at the expense, of each other—working out the distinctions between sex, gender, and sexual desire.
The idea to include The Queen in the Transparent opening titles came from associate producers Zackary Drucker and Rhys Ernst. Drucker and Ernst have steadily won acclaim for their art work over the last three years, with projects featured in the inaugural Made in L.A. 2012 biennial and the 2014 Whitney Biennial. They came onto the show as consultants early on, after Ernst met creator Jill Soloway at the 2012 Sundance Film Festival, and have since been involved in nearly every aspect of the show’s production, from casting to writing. Working with titles designer Jean-Paul Leonard and Soloway, they developed the concept of using found footage for the opening credits. They found the bar and bat mitzvah footage online or through friends. (The young boy voguing had been a YouTube sensation; he was also, it turned out, Soloway’s cousin.) But for early footage of transgender life, they quickly turned to The Queen.
Drucker has a long history with both The Queen and Flawless Sabrina. As a student at the School of Visual Arts in New York, Drucker learned about the film in 2003 from a queer underground zine called My Comrade and ran out to find it. As Drucker told me, “When I first saw The Queen, it was in pursuit of a history I felt a part of. I was at such an early stage in my understanding of my own gender. I was always interested in cult films, foreign films, independent films—the more obscure the better. And I think anything I could find connected to trans people or drags queens was a validation of my own difference—just knowing the path was paved a long time ago, it wasn’t going to start with me.” Soon after, Drucker was by chance invited to an art show being hosted at Flawless Sabrina’s apartment.
The two had met once before—at Wigstock, an annual drag festival—but the opening turned out to be the beginning of a decadelong kinship (Flawless Sabrina calls Drucker her “grandchild”). They have also collaborated on several projects, from Drucker’s MFA thesis to She Gone Rogue, a 22-minute film written and produced by Drucker and Ernst and featuring Flawless Mother Sabrina alongside another legendary trans performer, Holly Woodlawn, and genderqueer performer Vaginal Davis.
Drucker and Ernst aren’t the only ones on the show with transgender history on their minds. Early in producing the first season, the writing staff visited the ONE National Gay and Lesbian Archives at the University of Southern California and looked at all their transgender periodicals, from Transvestia, a magazine for straight-identified cross-dressers founded in 1960, to TV-TS Tapestry, founded in 1980, to Chrysalis, a transfeminist quarterly. They also made photocopies of issues, and hung them around the writers’ room.
This longer history traces shifts between community and exclusion as identity categories were tightened and loosened. As Ernst told me, “We did a lot of research about the separateness and also intersections between the trans and the cross-dressing world.” In a flashback episode, Maura goes to Camp Camellia, a weekend retreat for cross-dressers. But when Maura learns that one camp-goer was exiled for taking hormones, she begins to suspect she may not fit in as well as she hoped. Maura’s world in 2014 seems more intentionally inclusive: She goes to the local LGBT center for support groups and yoga classes (“Namaste, hey, girl, hey”), and performs in a trans talent show—though there are moments of alienation there, as well. Transparent, for all its characters, seems ultimately to track the pleasures and difficulties of seeking empathy, connection, and affirmation.
There is also a longing for connection and recognition in The Queen—for five days, its participants demonstrate remarkable kindness and care for their differences, a sense of what Drucker calls their “unity.” “There weren’t all the distinctions that there are today,” she observes. Ernst, too, reflects: “Maybe some of them are trans, and maybe some of them are drag queens, it’s really kind of loosey-goosey. There’s not really this identity politics that makes these identities distinct.” Today, the terms, meanings, and boundaries of trans identity continue to shift, often contentiously, reflecting histories of marginalization and creative resilience. As Ernst puts it, “Trans history is being written right now. It’s all in the middle of an evolution.”
The final cut of the opening montage was eventually edited together by Ernst—including some footage from the Camp Camellia scenes. (Ernst can be seen on the dance floor, as a cross-dresser, with an old VHS camera.) Still, The Queen stands out among the other clips—the music swelling just as the scene from the documentary comes into focus. The lineage from Transparent back to The Queen was not obvious, but the link is an important one to make visible. As Drucker says, “Our history is so unrecognized and unwritten, it’s an incredible document.”
Anthony Culler Warns: Beware the Gay Gremlins!
At the risk of giving this silly person more press than he deserves, we draw your attention to Anthony Culler, a Republican candidate for the U.S. Congress, running in the 6th district of South Carolina. Culler is challenging—with little chance of winning—popular Democrat incumbent James Clyburn, but his dim prospects haven’t stopped him from deploying creative (to put it generously) strategies in his quest to appeal to voters. In a recent Facebook post, Culler insulted the intelligence of his would-be constituents by childishly comparing gay marriage supporters to “gremlins”—yes, those gremlins. “Do not buy the ‘cuteness’ and ‘What will it hurt?’ arguments whispered in your ears and marketed to our children,” Culler exhorted. “Same-sex couples that seek to destroy our way of life and the institution of marriage are NOT cute and cuddly but rather (for those of you that are old enough to remember the movie), Gremlins that will only destroy our way of life.”
This is scary stuff, to be sure, so we at Slate have decided to help Culler get the word out, pro bono. If you’d like to warn your God-fearing neighbors about the gay gremlin threat, feel free to send them this PSA—it’s the decent thing to do.
Ask a Homo: Why Are the Gays So Gay?
Welcome back to Ask a Homo, a judgment-free zone where the gays of Outward answer questions about LGBTQ politics, culture, etiquette, language, and other queer conundrums. Today, we consider the rather charming notion that gay men might “have more fun” than straight men.
If there are questions you’ve been dying to ask a member of the real rainbow coalition, this is your chance. Send your queries—for publication—to email@example.com, and please put “ASK A HOMO” in the subject line. Note that questions may be edited.
Other Questions Asked of Homos:
Is it OK to ask if someone is gay?
Are gayborhoods dying out?
Why do lesbians make out in public?
Why do some gays not believe in bisexuality?
Should allies signal their support of LGBTQ people to strangers?
Why do so many gay people love Joan Rivers?
What does queer mean?
How should I greet a closeted co-worker's partner?
Why do gay men like musical theater?
Is it OK for straight women to talk about their “girl crushes”?
What was the best time in history to be gay?
Do lesbian couples always reflect a butch-femme dynamic?
Why is bitchiness encouraged among gay men?
What do lesbians think of LUGs—lesbians until graduation?
Why do gay people call themselves queer?
Are gay weddings different from straight ceremonies?
Why do gay men sometimes call each other she?
What’s the deal with tops and bottoms?
Why do lesbians wear so much flannel?
What's the deal with the gay lisp?
Should a straight person frequent a gay bar?
Judge Upholds Puerto Rico’s Gay Marriage Ban in a Comically Inane Opinion
On Tuesday, U.S. District Judge Juan Pérez-Giménez dismissed a challenge to Puerto Rico’s gay marriage ban, holding that “no right to same-gender marriage emanates from the Constitution.” Pérez-Giménez, a Carter appointee, is only the second district judge to uphold such a ban since the Supreme Court’s 2013 Windsor ruling, and the first Democrat-appointed judge to do so since then.
But don’t be too alarmed by Pérez-Giménez’s decision. Although the judge seems to think he is taking a courageous stand for constitutional principles, his actual opinion is a hopelessly muddled mélange of casuistry, magical thinking, and almost comic inanity. Pérez-Giménez centers his opinion around Baker v. Nelson, a 1972 case in which the Supreme Court dismissed a challenge to Minnesota’s gay marriage ban “for want of a substantial federal question.” TheBaker decision was a summary affirmance of a lower court’s ruling and consisted of a single sentence. Still, Pérez-Giménez insists, summary affirmances are considered binding on lower courts, so he was forced by Baker to dismiss a challenge to Puerto Rico’s ban as well. (Judge Jeffrey Sutton of the 6th Circuithas also fretted that Baker gores the constitutional case for marriage equality.)
Wailing Against the Pansies: Homophobia in Whiplash
From time to time, a movie comes along that everyone feels is about something.
Such is the case with Whiplash, writer/director Damien Chazelle’s panic-attack-provoking new film that follows the sadomasochistic relationship between a conservatory teacher, Fletcher (J.K Simmons) and his driven, jazz drumming pupil, Andrew (Miles Teller). Most reviews of the film, which is currently rolling out in theaters across the country, pick up on one “about” or another. Slate alone has already offered two compelling readings—the latent twistedness of pedagogical relationships and the nature of creative genius. But another of Whiplash’s preoccupations remains underexplored (if consistently mentioned in passing) in the critical conversation: its aggressive inclusion of homophobia.
To be clear, this is not to say that the film or Chazelle are themselves homophobic; rather, I’m interested in the way the film relies on homophobia—as rendered in speech and gender ideology—for so much of its dramatic intensity. And, more important, I’m curious about how that dependency might complicate the film’s widespread adoration.
The Catholic Church Is Changing, and Celibate Gays Are Leading the Way
At the end of October, Notre Dame University will host a two-day conference bearing a name that would have been unthinkable just a few years ago. “Gay in Christ” will feature Catholic speakers who self-identify as gay and lesbian, along with allies who are actively seeking more inclusive pastoral strategies for dealing with the gay faithful. The conference’s opening remarks and final presentation will be given by one of these allies, Professor John Cavadini, a former chair of Notre Dame’s department of theology who was appointed to the International Theological Commission (a select group that advises the pope and his bishops on theological matters) by Pope Benedict.
Signs and signals that the church may be shifting its position on homosexuality always make headlines, but behind the scenes, the church is actively searching for new ways to address LGBTQ issues. More often than not, that means church leaders turn to celibate gay Catholics to help them find a way forward. “There are a lot of people realizing that the condemning approach was not working and was not a good reflection of Christian love or charity,” Ron Belgau, who runs the celibate Christian blog Spiritual Friendship and is scheduled to speak at the Gay in Christ conference, told me. “A lot of people are interested in talking to celibate gays about [other approaches].” Although they don't share all the values of secular LGBTQ activists, celibate gays serve as advocates for the worth and dignity of LGBTQ people and their relationships in a context where outside activists are still viewed with suspicion and hostility.
A Procedural Rule Could Keep Gay Marriage From Ever Reaching SCOTUS Again
One of the great benefits of the marriage equality debate is that it has forced Americans to learn way more about constitutional law than they probably ever wanted to. In just a few years, terms like “heightened scrutiny” and “liberty interest” have wriggled their way into the demotic parlance, to my unceasing delight. But the schooling, it seems, will not end at the 14th Amendment, because Arizona Attorney General Tom Horne just cited a rule of civil procedure in refusing to defend his state’s ban on same-sex marriage. And if his theory is correct, opponents of marriage equality may be procedurally barred from ever getting a gay marriage case to the Supreme Court again.
Here’s the thrust of Horne’s unexpected argument: Under Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure, attorneys must certify that any motions they file are “nonfrivolous” and aren’t designed to “cause unnecessary delay.” If you violate that rule, you might face sanctions—a pretty embarrassing and sometimes expensive penalty. For months, the conventional wisdom dictated that states could appeal gay marriage rulings without stumbling on Rule 11; the Supreme Court, after all, has yet to issue a definitive ruling on the matter.
Judge Begrudgingly Strikes Down Wyoming’s Gay Marriage Ban
On Friday afternoon, U.S. District Judge Scott W. Skavdahl struck down Wyoming’s gay marriage ban, making it the third pro-marriage equality decision of the day. Skavdahl, an Obama appointee, essentially had no choice but to invalidate Wyoming’s ban; the state falls within the 10th Circuit, where marriage equality is now officially law. A decision upholding the ban would have been legally unjustifiable and judicially impudent.
While Skavdahl ruled the right way, he made it quite clear that his heart wasn’t in it. First, Skavdahl stayed the decision until Oct. 23—a completely pointless exercise since marriage equality is already law of the circuit. Second, he closed the principal portion of his opinion with an awkward, cranky kiss-off to his judicial superiors:
The preferred forum for addressing the issues presented by Plaintiffs in this case is the arena of public debate and legislative action. However, that ship has sailed. It is not the desire or preference of this Court to, with the stroke of a pen, erase a State’s legislative enactments. Nonetheless, the binding precedent of [the 10th Circuit’s decisions] mandate this result, and this Court will adhere to its Constitutional duties and abide by the rule of law.
Not exactly a love letter to marriage equality, but it’ll do the job. And since Wyoming’s Republican governor has already refused to appeal the ruling, wedding bells will soon be ringing in Liz Cheney’s adopted home state. It’s about time, too. When gay couples can exchange vows next to Old Faithful, you know the marriage equality fight is drawing to a close.