Mainstream Media Drag and the Future: Despite Major Strides, We Still Have Work to Do

It’s hard to deny that drag culture today is more popular than ever before, with a strong hold on mainstream media inviting queer and straight people alike to kiki collectively.

The impact of drag in today’s world is measurable and clear, as drag scenes boom in cities across the country, though it all calls into question: How far have we come, and has drag in media and beyond truly evolved in a way that is inclusive and representative of our diverse LGBTQ community?

RuPaul’s Drag Race is enjoying its 13th year in production with Season 14, arguably with a tighter grip on culture than ever before. Ru himself has been at the center of controversy throughout the show’s duration.

Without diving into the transphobic challenges and language ever-present through some of the show’s seasons—or his infamous comments to The Guardian insinuating that he would “probably not” allow a trans woman on the show and that a transitioning woman has an unfair advantage over cis male competitors—many have questioned the cis-male-dominant casts year after year, even though the franchise has opened the doors to allow more gender-diverse competitors.

“My drag was born in a community full of trans women, trans men, and gender-nonconforming folks doing drag. That’s the real world of drag, like it or not. I think it’s fabulous, and I will fight my entire life to protect and uplift it,” Sasha Velour tweeted after the interview was published.

Obviously, Ru is one person, a queer elder with his own experience, and just one showrunner, not the epitome of drag culture. Though, as the most prominent drag show on the air today, sending messages to queer, trans, cis, and straight people alike, it ushers in conversations surrounding the true origins of drag as an artform for all people, not just cis men who want to play a hyper-femme character.

While the casts have become more gender-diverse through the years, an eruption of conversation spurred from the casting of Maddy Morphosis, a cis, straight man and drag queen. Of course, drag is for everyone, but many folks argued whether or not it was right for this slot to be taken by Maddy over performers that traditionally haven’t gotten the same platform.

“This is not to say that straight men shouldn’t do drag or be on the show,” writes Huck Mag’s Joe Parslow. “Instead the point is this: When a straight man is on the show at a moment where the representation of trans and/or nonbinary people is only just starting to feel like it has gained a critical mass (to give just one example of the issues of ‘diversity’ on Drag Race) feels like a kick in the teeth to those communities and performers.”

Parslow also calls into question how the conversations surrounding Maddy Morphosis point to liberal identity politics, where the ideas of inclusion and including everyone become the most important questions, rather than asking, “What does it mean to include everyone?” or “Who is drag for, by, and about?” While Parslow notes these questions don’t have easy answers, he suggests the wider diversification to simply show that “everyone has a seat at the table” isn’t the same thing and suggests that maybe, “the table is broken in the first place.”

TIME spoke with drag historian and videographer Joe E. Jeffreys shortly after Ru’s comments to The Guardian, asking him specifically what he would say to the comment that, historically, drag performers in queer spaces were men.

“Drag kings have always been out there, they just don’t get as much attention. Murray Hill has been a New York City icon for years. Judith Butler talks about how men—and this is the power of masculinity—are seen as unmarked. People don’t see men as this thing that can be impersonated. But now mass culture is beginning to see that yes, there are breaks.”

He also said, in reference to a New York Times article asking if this is the “golden age of drag,” posing that this might just be the “Ru Era” of drag.

“RuPaul has done wonderful things for drag. He has managed to get a generally non-drag-consuming public to understand drag as an art form, which is no small feat. But at the same time, the show has only made opportunities for those contestants. If it was a true golden age of drag, at least in my estimation, I would see mass audiences flocking to the drag shows at my local bars.”

As many queer people have pointed to the problems on Drag Race representing the problems that exist in real-life queer spaces, there have also been a number of conversations surrounding racial inclusion and how non-white drag performers are treated within the community.

In 2018, Pride looked at the Instagram following of every queen who placed in the top half of their Drag Race or All Stars. Of the 67 top-half performing queens to date, 32 were white or white-passing, 18 were Black, 12 were Latina, and five were Asian. The analysis excluded Tyra Sanchez, Kenya Michaels, and Rebecca Glasscock, who were all inactive on Instagram.
Among the remaining 64 competitors, the data showed that white queens averaged 622k followers. The 10 Latina queens sit near the 558,758 average mark, though it’s largely because of the massive followings of Valentina, Adore Delano, and Biance Del Rio. The other seven sat much lower than the average, the closest sitting at 441k.

Black queens overall had significantly less followers, an average of 418k. Bob the Drag Queen called attention to this reality on Twitter:

“Sometimes Drag Race makes me realize other things about the world. NOT ALL, but a lot of the most popular queens fall into the thin white category. And NO black queens, except @RuPaul, have over a million followers. It’s not the show. It’s the fandom.”

Denver drag performer Heroine Kills recalls RPDR as their first-ever exposure to drag, followed by The Boulet Brothers Dragula, recalling their amazement that so many people could see these performers and root for them from all over the world.

“Opening drag culture to society after so many years of having to be secretive, private, contained is no small feat,” Heroine says. “However, it does seem that drag in pop culture is often reduced to white, cisgender, male, thin, able-bodied ideals, while local communities have surpassed that. A soccer mom would much rather see Trixie Mattel baking a cake than watch myself or my friends onstage—because that’s what she thinks drag is.”

It’s true—Should you do a bit of digging, you’ll find all kinds of alternative, off-the-wall drag all around Denver, and the country, embracing the craft as a flexible performance artform, a storytelling mechanism, sometimes a display of sadness, comedy, or shock, and it’s not always necessarily the neat package you might see airing weekly on VH1.

Denver’s own Yvie Oddly was one RDPR winner that challenged some of these ideas on the small screen, showing her true self rather than “keeping things safe for people’s viewing pleasure,” in the words of Heroine, who is friends with Yvie.

When they first got into drag about five years ago, Heroine says the queer nightlife scene was still “a bit confused and not very welcoming.” As one of a handful of AFAB performers in Denver at the time, they say it seemed like it was a constant struggle to earn the respect of more seasoned professionals in the scene.

“While people have become more open to different styles of drag, I do feel that it’s still a constant battle to be fully seen and heard, but we’ll just keep getting louder and louder until we have everyone’s attention,” Heroine says. “There is still a divide between different people and drag styles, often cliques and groups that don’t get along, but I feel that we’re able to come together as a community when we really need to.”

Drag performances also often take place in bars, which can present issues, not only for people in recovery and those with a history of substance abuse, but also for folks with disabilities. April Crowley discussed how these two ideas are related in the column, “Disability in Drag: Embodying Masculinity.” Crowley doesn’t suggest that queer bars and parties should be dry, but rather that it’s worth looking into how drag kings, gender-diverse performers, and those with disabilities could flourish in dry or semi-dry spaces.

“Alcohol and problems with access go hand in hand in LGBTQ+ spaces,” Crowley writes. “The ubiquitous gay bar, where much of gay and drag cultures were formed, is typically a lush place that doesn’t pay much mind to access for folks with disabilities. This extends to the larger culture, of course, but as a subculture so often focused on inclusion, we miss the mark when we don’t consider the different ways in which our bodies move through spaces and on stages.

“This translates to dehumanization, desexualization, and infantilization of disabled adults. When people are at their least inhibited, they forget to analyze positionality like they normally would, and the mind fills in a lot of blanks wildly incorrectly.”

As time has gone on, Heroine says it’s been easier to get booked, though they’ve noticed their friends with disabilities face issues surrounding accessibility.

“I believe every drag/queer space should have ramps, plenty of seating, and overall more understanding of those who need it,” Heroine says. “I’ve met a lot of amazing performers over the course of the pandemic, often in digital drag shows—people who aren’t always able to be on a stage were putting on shows in the comfort of their own homes on their own time—and their art was incredible. I’d love to see more of that!”

While it’s easy to harp on the role of media in shaping these conversations, it’s also crucial to recognize that shows like Drag Race and Dragula are entertainment and, of course, are not fully representative of the communities they represent.

As soon as we start getting frustrated with the way drag is portrayed on screen, it’s worth revisiting our local drag scenes and the abundance of creativity flourishing throughout them. The LGBTQ community and drag scene are ever-evolving, and Heroine says there will always be more work to be done.

“We as performers are in a scene that’s constantly changing and growing, and we either keep up or risk making our spaces unsafe or uncomfortable for our community members.”

Keep up with Heroine Kills on Instagram @heroine_killz.

Photo by Justine Johnson