Which Disney Princess Are You? Geeks, Gays and Misogyny

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I’ve written previously about a perceived ‘descent into infantile triviality’ where a seemingly pathological aversion to being viewed as ‘too serious’ manifests itself in particular as a ‘facetious fixation on popular culture (which) flows neatly into consumerism’. Nothing better sums up this trend than the explosion in the past 12 months of sites like Buzzfeed, built almost entirely around lists and gifs which offer jolts of recognition to personalities overwhelmingly built around particular aspects of culture. Interestingly, the particular identity which much of this seems to revolve around is that of the ‘geek’. This perhaps isn’t surprising, as this is not only an identity overwhelmingly based on consumption but also one which relies heavily on gif-able culture for its existence.

While this is a general trend, I wrote last year about how this particular identity was becoming the dominant subculture in what we know as ‘gay culture’. This makes sense when you think about the ways in which this serves capital and how they neatly complement the increasing positioning of the LGBT community as both a market and a marketing tool. It’s been no surprise, then, that even since I wrote the ‘Gay Geeks’ blog I’ve noticed a dramatic upsurge in the prevalence of what I described. It also increasingly converges: this morning one of the first things I saw on my Facebook was a link to ‘Disney Princesses as Game of Thrones Characters’ while Push The Button, a gay night devoted to semi-ironic love for c-grade 90s pop, is soon having an evening devoted to The Little Mermaid. The Disneyfication of the geek identity has been fascinating to watch (and is clearly something Buzzfeed has picked up on) but it has ominous undercurrents with regards to a geek culture which is often accused of misogyny (it almost entirely seems to revolve around Disney Princesses). When you take the Gay Geek there are further levels of disquiet, with the issues levelled at the geek identity potentially being compounded by the accusations that misogyny is prevalent amongst gay males. If we look at the markers of the Gay Geek, aside from Disney Princesses, comics, video games, Game of Thrones, Doctor Who and the rest you commonly see a love for Ru Paul’s Drag Race present. It’s impossible not to notice that all of these things have problems with their representations of women who, in pretty much all of them, are sexy and sassy while ultimately being in thrall to the brilliant men around them. This is most explicit in Drag Race, where a group of men act out this sassy fantasy and find it reproduced by viewers around the world (with added racial issues as white men unthinkingly do impressions of black female stereotypes).

I thought of this when reading the Rohin Guha piece on gay male misogyny which has caused a minor storm in some circles. Guha notes that, in certain gay subcultures, women are:

…essentially unwelcome, unless they come to us as a Real Housewife, a pop diva, or an Tony award winner–or an unassuming fag hag. To anyone just coming out of the closet and hoping to get his bearings in the gay male community, the attitude towards women is simple: They are just objects whose function is to serve gay men.

The fit between this and the Gay Geek identity is startling and finds its perfect expression in HBO’s new ‘gay drama’ Looking. The main character is a self-identified geek who designs video games. When he’s not talking about sex with his friends, they exchange self-consciously sassy references to popular culture. His date purchases him trading cards based on 80s movie The Goonies to impress him. While this is going on, women are almost entirely absent from the lives of the central characters. They appear to have a single female friend who is a gay man’s fantasy of a fag hag, always on hand to go drinking and always willing to sit quietly in the lounge while you bring over your Grindr shag. The only other females who have even had lines have been a snooty artist who sacks one of the guys and a chef who refuses to help kick-start the restaurant dream of another. This treatment (absence, largely) of women has been one of the most egregious aspects of the show yet I’ve not seen a single mention of it in any review.

It’s interesting that the attacks on Guha’s piece seem to come from a place of ‘but women shouldn’t even be in gay places and they touch us and treat us like accessories too!’ Aside from the absurd pre-school nature of ‘they started it!’, I find this deeply disingenuous. There is certainly a damaging instrumentalisation of gay people as ‘liberal accessories’ but it’s one in which the entire gay media and community is very complicit. We fall over ourselves to adore straight ‘allies’ who praise gay people (Attitude giving Caitlin Moran an ‘Honorary Gay Award’), even when it’s done in the most patronising and offensive ways. Our gay magazines feature an endless parade of attractive straight men in their pants (I wonder if the writer of the linked Huffington Post piece would take issue with an attractive straight ‘gay ally’ like Ben Cohen being present in ‘his’ gay clubs) and we barely bat an eyelid at Lady Gaga’s adoption of ‘the gays’ as her ‘cause’ or Britney Spears referring to her gay fans as ‘somewhat girls’. No, this defence smacks of people being called out on their behaviour and being outraged (even if we accepted the defences offered, they depict nothing so much as deeply dysfunctional relationships which apparently are fine unless someone actually dares to point out how fucked up they are.)

Misogyny is clearly real and there’s no reason that gay men would be excluded from that. What makes this particularly worthy of commentary is that we seem to think of gay men and women as natural allies and so think we couldn’t possibly be misogynist. Yet I think it’s very present – and with the rise of the Gay Geek it’s being expressed in over more subtly damaging ways. Facing this problem is but one way in which we can educate ourselves, avoid the ‘infantile triviality’ and progress to a position where we can start to challenge these issues.

Victim

Last year I wrote about how Lady Gaga’s ‘real, terrifying genius’ was ‘the commodification and exploitation of victimhood.” This came after noting that ‘Born This Way’ celebrated gay as victim’ and reinforced ‘a central tenet of a commercialised gay culture.’ Indeed, the idea that gay identitity is inextricably tied up in being ‘a victim’ has been a common strand to my writing on LGBT politics and culture. That recent Stonewall survey, for example, went out of its way to present LGB people as a victimised group while the furore around Russia’s ‘anti-gay laws’ has been a good example of how this victimhood can be used to serve powerful agendas and narratives. It’s certainly possible to argue that the reason why issues like ‘Russia’ so quickly catch on with certain gay people while others are ignored or seen as more ‘complicated’ is because it so clearly feeds into widespread notions of persecuted gay people in ways which, say, issues of poverty or arms sales to Bahrain simple don’t. We could see this too in the response to the ‘Muslim homophobia’ hysteria in East London a couple of years ago. At the time I wrote about how there was little to suggest in contemporary reports that the horrific stabbing of Oliver Hemsley had been inspired by his sexuality. Yet it was immediately, widely presented as such on the basis that he was gay and had been stabbed. When violent crime as a whole in the area was discussed, not least stabbings (of young black men) which had occurred in the same area around the same time, I would often by told that they were nothing to do with gay people’. It was an odd, miserably blinkered view which had zero interest in anything that couldn’t be claimed as having been inspired by homophobia.

I was thinking about all of this again last night during a discussion about people who ‘come out’ or ‘experiment’ later in life, after years of (apparently) being ‘heterosexual’. There is a lot to think about and discuss in here, far more than I could do justice to in a Sunday afternoon. Anecdotally it’s more common for women to do this than for men and at least part of this must be tied up in questions of masculinity and sexism. As a culture we’re repeatedly presented with sapphic flirtation as something daring, exciting and arousing – it’s certainly a common trope in pop music and television shows – yet the same is not remotely true for men. A feminist perspective would invoke the ‘male gaze’ and patriarchy here. Whatever the reasons, though, the responses tend to be illuminating. If you’re someone who is perceived to have been living ‘in the closet’ and your ‘coming out’ fits nicely into the victim narrative – see Gareth Thomas or Jason Collins – your declaration is treated as something of a victory. This is the case even when your ‘coming out’ is used to excuse or justify amoral behaviour, as with Lord Browne or David Laws. It’s even the case when you’ve categorically denied being gay but then skilfully tie your announcement to victimhood, as Wentworth Miller recently did.

If, however, you’re perceived to be ‘dabbling’ or just not authentic enough, the reaction is very different. We can see this if we look at common gay responses to ‘straight’ women who acquire girlfriends or to bisexuality in general, with biphobia being a noted phenomenon within gay communities. There are reams written about this but what’s interesting about it for my purposes here is how this ties into the victimhood narrative. A real response which I was told of last night was that the pain and suffering of an ‘authentic’ gay life was invoked against the ‘insult’ of an adult female suddenly ‘deciding’ that she was gay. “I was bullied for being gay…it caused me years of torment…then this person can just overnight declare that they’re gay?!’ It’s fascinating here how suffering is presented as an integral part of being ‘gay’, an experience for which you almost earn points and become a more authentic gay person. The corresponding arguments are easy to imagine: this presents homosexuality as a choice, it’s flirting with someone in order to make oneself seem more interesting, they aren’t invested in their homosexuality like we are and can quickly revert if it gets too scary. If we think about this, though, it’s hard to ultimately see how a world where sexuality is seen as something people feel able to explore at will isn’t the kind of world which gay rights campaigners are fighting for. If ‘straight’ men felt that they could experiment with other male friends without judgement or negative consequence, wouldn’t this be a good thing with regards to homophobia? Does this make a gay person any less gay? I don’t think it does, yet the response suggests that many less want a world in which sexuality is largely an irrelevance than a world in which sexuality is clearly defined, clearly demarcated and where a ‘gay’ identity is forever and inextricably linked to victimhood. A world where you have the ‘right’ kind of gay and the wrong kind – a narrative which has been implicit in the ‘gay marriage’ debate’. I think Gaga recognises this and that’s why so much of her work rests on flattering the victimhood of her listeners – this is, after all, an industry in itself nowadays. In a very real sense, then, our own attitudes as gay people are to be examined with regards to sexuality and the kind of world we wish to live in. At the moment it seems like if we ever reached a promised land where our sexuality was as irrelevant as the colour of our eyes, plenty of gay people would lose all sense of identity overnight. That is a problem.