Deconstructing drag: gender performance and the art of masculinity
Charmaine de Silva and Susanna Allevato Quail
When most people hear the word "drag," certain images come to mind: men in sequined dresses and stilettos, with painted-on eyebrows and stuffed bras, their bodies tucked and taped into an image of hyperbolic femininity (RuPaul, for example, or Priscilla, Queen of the Desert). The reality of drag, however, is much more complex. People of different genders and sexualities are using drag performances to express diverse identities and politics.
Drag kings are particularly misunderstood. Drag kings are usually thought of quite simplistically as women "dressed up" as men, but in fact the term encompasses anyone who performs masculinity, regardless of their gender or sexuality.
During our travels through Vancouver's drag scene, we encountered many diverse drag kings, some who identified as lesbian women, others as straight males, transgendered, or gender neutral. All of these performers use drag to express their own notions of masculinity, be they personal, artistic, or political.
In Vancouver, the drag king scene is an important part of the gay and lesbian communities. At most special events, fundraisers, and big parties, you can count on seeing a drag performance. Different troupes have formed over the past few years, such as the Kings of Vancouver (now disbanded), DKV (Drag Kings Vancouver), and 3 $ Bill. Drag kings inspire a committed following of fans, who regularly attend shows at Vancouver's lesbian and gay bars, to see their favourite performers.
Buttah and Kyle are two of the best-known performers in Vancouver's drag scene. They are best friends and perform together often. They both challenge assumptions of what drag is, because both are transgendered and identify as male. Although the two share many similarities (and are almost inseparable), drag has impacted their lives in markedly different ways.
Ethan - Buttah is his drag persona - a Burnaby native, first tried drag a year and a half ago during an impromptu performance at a Queer conference in Kamloops. He recalls, "Devin came up to me and said, 'So, you're performing, right?'" Hesitant at first, Ethan tried drag and loved it. This was a life-changing moment, because at that time he had not begun his transition, and it was through trying on male personas in his drag performances that Ethan's identity as male formed.
Kyle, Ethan's best friend and frequent artistic collaborator, is originally from Hope. He moved to the Lower Mainland a couple of years ago and began performing shortly after Ethan. Unlike Ethan, Kyle already identified as male before discovering and performing drag. For Kyle, drag was a way to affirm and celebrate his identity, performing masculinity in front of an appreciative and supportive (even adoring) audience.
Watching Kyle and Buttah perform, a first-time audience member may be surprised at how impeccable their performances of maleness are. During one performance, when Kyle performed as a woman - Alicia Keyes, in her duet with Usher - he simply looked like a guy prancing awkwardly around the stage in his girlfriend's high heels.
Both Ethan and Kyle are in the midst of the medical transition process, although Kyle is a little bit "older" (ahead in the process) than Ethan. As performers, Kyle and Buttah enrich and broaden what drag means, because not only are they two straight, male performers, they are two immensely popular and successful straight, male performers. Their popularity and success put the lie to the notion that drag kings can only be female-identified people in typically female bodies, "dressing-up" like men for fun and entertainment.
The drag artist who first urged Buttah to perform, and who he lists as an important inspiration, was Devin, also a well-known local drag king, although one who is not currently performing. Devin was one of the original Kings of Vancouver and invited Buttah to join the troupe. Though Kings of Vancouver has since disbanded, Devin continues to influence Vancouver's drag kings. (Devin identifies as neither male nor female, and hence uses the third person plural pronoun [they/them/their] to refer to themselves.) Devin was unavailable for interview but recently ran a workshop on drag at this year's Rock for Choice, where they shared many views and ideas about drag with us.
For Devin, drag is a chance to explore gender critically. They perform both masculinity and femininity, and use their performances to break down gender constructs of all types. Particularly inspired by last year's International Drag King Extravaganza held in Chicago, where they witnessed a massive array of diverse gender performances that went beyond simple cross-dressing, Devin recognises and emphasises the power that entertainers and performers have to educate audiences and spread awareness. They comment, "It's got to be about more than being hot and how hot that is!"
Devin is highly critical of the type of drag that performs and reproduces oppressive masculine stereotypes. A recent book, The Art of Drag Kinging by Dante DiFranco, displays this tendency explicitly; a section of the book on creating a drag character lists options like "Pimp," "Redneck," and "Stud." Unfortunately, Devin sees sexist performance techniques happening all too frequently in the local scene, like using a woman as a prop on stage, or performing sexist or racist lyrics without a consciously critical approach.
One of the reasons Devin stopped performing was a sense that there were too few other drag kings interested in the kind of drag they wanted to do. They felt quite alone in their expressly political and critical form of drag artistry.
We saw a wide variety of drag performances, mostly held at Vancouver's handful of lesbian venues, like Lick and Club 23. Some were funny; others were sexy, angry, dramatic, or cute. Some were explicitly political in their message, while others were entertaining or just plain hot, and all underscored one of the most interesting aspects of drag kinging: its inherent differences from drag queening and the unique perspective on gender that it holds.
A drag king is sometimes described as, "like a drag queen, but in reverse." Yet this explanation falls vastly short of capturing what masculine gender performances are really like, and how different they are from feminine gender performances.
Performances of femininity are all about adding on - breasts, makeup, sparkly boas, frills, and flounces. Even the mannerisms are about playing up the body's motions, swaying the hips more, tossing hair, and batting eyelashes. In a society where masculinity is normative and femininity is the "other," stereotypes of femininity lend themselves to extravagant performance.
Masculine stereotypes, however, are somewhat different. Of course, drag kings do add on some bits and pieces - usually facial hair and some kind of penis-like bulge - but performing masculinity is a great deal trickier. It is easy to see why drag kings might resort to sexist stereotypes; without aggression, dominance, or machismo, what signifiers can a performer use to communicate masculinity to the audience? A person who puts on a skirt or makeup sends an obvious signal that he or she is dressed femininely, but a person in pants and no makeup could be dressed as any gender.
While an audience member would be unlikely to mistake a typical Vegas-style drag queen for a normal woman, some of the most polished (and well-received) drag king performances we saw could easily be mistaken for normal men lip-synching and dancing. Of course, this becomes more complicated with critical performances like Devin's, where performers explicitly deconstruct masculinity. Nevertheless, this odd situation of performing what is usually seen as straightforwardly "normal" gives a unique role and perspective to drag kinging.
Because the drag king community is so open to gender diversity - welcoming self-identified women, men, and trans people as its own - it deconstructs notions of who can and cannot be male, and in what ways. Even when not explicitly political, each performance makes its own small statement of what masculinity is. Because masculinity, unlike femininity, is privileged in our society, the act of performing as a drag king is one of taking back power. While it would certainly be great to see more drag queens performing femininity in a questioning, critical manner, this act of reclaiming gender power is especially embodied in the performances of drag kings. When we can open the borders of who gets to be masculine or male, it becomes possible to weaken gender hierarchies and break down oppressive social norms.
But politics aside, drag king shows are fabulous and fun. It is amazing and inspiring to see gender and sexual diversity celebrated openly and warmly, with humour and sexiness. The very best performances entertain you, thrill you, and leave you with something to chew on.