May the Best Woman Win: On RuPaul’s Drag Race

Last month, iconic drag queen RuPaul was quoted in the Canadian House of Commons during the question period for Bill C66, legislation that would expunge the criminal records of those convicted for same-sex activity. Michelle Rempel, a Conservative MP, said, “... and because I’m not sure anyone has ever done this in the House of Commons before, I’m going to quote RuPaul,” (she paused for laughter), “if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love somebody else?” The bill passed with the support of all parties and the queer Internet buzzed for days with reaction pieces. Out Magazine cheered, “check this one off the gay agenda,” and Buzzfeed pronounced, “politics was good, briefly.” It’s been absorbed as a victory for the LGBTQ2 community, despite some concerns, such as experts not being consulted on what the effects of destroying these records will have on preserving history. Coupled with Trudeau’s recent apology for Canada’s oppressive treatment of queer people, Bill C66 can be seen as another step in the country’s homonationalist crusade. And, well, when a Conservative MP is touting herself as the first ever to quote RuPaul in the House of Commons, it can start to feel like the progressive headline Olympics, one in which Canada is taking home more gold medals than their American neighbours.The quote was taken from RuPaul’s Drag Race, a reality TV show in which drag queens from across America compete for the title of Drag Superstar, 100,000 dollars, and a year’s supply of makeup. Each episode features a mini challenge, a main challenge, and a runway walk where the queens show off the looks they’ve created for that week’s category. RuPaul, along with Michelle Visage and two guest judges, who have ranged from Lady Gaga to Kourtney Kardashian, determine that week’s winner. The two bottom queens will then have to “lip sync for their life,” and based on improvised performances one will stay while the other packs her bags. The show is uniquely entertaining, endearing audiences to champion the queens they relate to. With season eight now available on Netflix, that audience has been rapidly expanding.My first encounter with a drag queen was not on Netflix. It was in Michigan. I was dancing, bolstered by gin and tonics, at a nightclub’s gay Thursday. It was a month after coming out to my family, and a few weeks into my gay culture welcome tour. “Have you ever seen drag?” My first girlfriend places ten dollars in my hand, and when the queen dances by, not missing a single syllable in her lip sync, she kisses my hand and tucks the bill into her bra. I had never seen a more powerful, charismatic, or glamorous assertion of identity. The feeling of that kiss, the relief of such unabashed and remarkable gender bending, would stick with me, and would ultimately lead to what happened next: watching eight seasons, plus two All Stars seasons of Drag Race in two months.

Although the queens aren’t seen to be writing legislation as they tuck, glue their brows, pad their bodies, sew gowns, and rehearse performances, evidently there’s something inherently political about doing drag.

I’m not sure if Michelle Rempel has been to a gay Thursday. I can’t tell from her speech if she’s watched the show in its entirety (even the early seasons which maintained mostly a cult following and lacked the funding for the current cash prize), but I suspect that even if she has, she quoted RuPaul to fit the fashion of the moment. “Love yourself” is nowhere near a new mantra, but in the rhetoric of the ongoing politicizing of sexual practices, it shines. The real showstopper here is that for over 100 episodes RuPaul has signed out with, “If you can’t love yourself ...” followed by, “Can I get an amen up in here?” An “amen” that has reverberated from the main stage of a reality TV show to the staging of reality for Canada’s queer citizens. Although the queens aren’t seen to be writing legislation as they tuck, glue their brows, pad their bodies, sew gowns, and rehearse performances, evidently there’s something inherently political about doing drag.The complexity of this politic became apparent to me when I first watched Paris Is Burning, a documentary film following the lives of marginalized gay and transgender individuals in 1980s Harlem. The original drag balls were settings of “extravaganza,” runway competitions between houses, and ultimately the development of an underground, a safe place where they were free to live a life that was only just becoming decriminalized. Ball culture lives on in RuPaul’s show when words like “realness,” “shade,” “gagging,” and “fishy” are employed to describe the authenticity of a performance or the drama between queens. I’ll give you a hint: if I’m gagging on the fish you’re serving, I’m loving your body, your look, and I’m buying it. But Drag Race does more than just nod to its foremothers; it picks up the torch and actualizes dreams that weren’t achievable before this time. The show has launched the careers of hundreds of queens, and that’s what it’s really about. Legendary Harlem mother, Pepper LaBeija, in Paris is Burning said, “a ball is ours ... you feel one hundred percent right being gay ... it’s as close to reality as we’re going to get ... as close to fame and the spotlight.” This fame, the “opulence” that the queens of Harlem could only make a runway category, where they walked in fake pearls and faux fur, has become possible in RuPaul’s marketing of a drag as a major network show.A drag queen has been present in almost every “first” for me in the gay world. My first gay Thursday, yes, and later when I moved to Toronto, my first important queer friendship. Sitting on a picnic blanket in Trinity Bellwoods Park, we drank out of 711 Big Gulp cups, and I asked him about the tattoo he had of RuPaul on his forearm. He said that immigrating to a new country as a kid, being asked to accept a new culture, all while figuring out being gay was really difficult. He told me: “RuPaul didn’t just make it socially acceptable to be gay, but created subgroups within the gay umbrella that are more attractive. He gave me a sense of culture when I didn’t have any, a sense of ownership, acceptance, family, words, phrases, and dances. He is mom.”

This is the season in which queens are heard chorusing, 'gender is over.'

I’ve been reflecting on how important it is to have reality TV for queer people. There’s Gaycation, a documentary show in which Ellen Page and Ian Daniel travel around the world interviewing LGBTQ2 people, and I’ve heard rumours about The Real L Word (not from my lesbian friends). But queer representation on reality TV essentially comes down to Drag Race. In high school, I never knew what to say when girls talked about who the Bachelor gave his final rose to or whose supermodel career was just launched by Tyra Banks. When I considered writing for a supplement on reality television, my first reaction was that the only shows I’d seen were reruns of Extreme Makeover Home Edition that my mom would watch on Sundays. I didn’t realize that RuPaul’s Drag Race was a reality show, at least not in the same way these other shows are. The latest season features more of those “real” backstage moments than ever before. Peppermint comes out as a trans woman, becoming the first out trans queen to compete in the finale. Cynthia Lee Fontaine opens up about friends she lost at Pulse Nightclub during the largest attack on LGBTQ2 people in American history. Sasha Velour takes the crown and vows to change the future of drag with her edgy, androgynous style. This is the season in which queens are heard chorusing, “gender is over.”The discourse on Bill C66 makes my stomach tighten. When Rempel says that she heard from someone whose lesbian partner was physically hauled out of her house for questioning on allegations of her sexual preference, I’m reminded of a Drag Race moment when Roxxxy breaks down on stage. She confesses that receiving a bad critique from Mother Ru brings up the feelings she has from when her mother abandoned her as a child at a bus stop. “She didn’t want me,” she cries, and the episode ends with tears from everyone as RuPaul says, “... we as gay people get to choose our families ... you are welcome here and we love you.” Half-a-box of tissues and a lot of old, closeted shame came out of me on that day. Perhaps the first ever House of Commons homage to RuPaul could have called out to the serious, non-negotiable need for family and alliance in every community.One of my favourite nights was at a gay bar in west end Toronto. It was patio season. I was on a nervous second date, so giddy and excited that I lost my wallet on the way there. She convinced me to go anyway and we drank beer until we heard that the drag performances were starting inside. We lingered behind the stage, watching queen and audience dance and sing in an escalating catharsis. I turned to kiss her, and right then a nearly eight-foot-tall, blonde queen said, “Kids, I get it, but I’m on next and I need to stand here.” Drag is for everyone, but remember it’s a family, and please remember to tip your queens.