Gaze for Gays: Queer Burlesque and Why it’s Important to Split Hairs

Photo: Ms. Bea as Art Deco Goddess, Shot by David Silverman.

Lately, there’s been a lot of chatter on this national burlesque list I’m on about the identification of oneself as a “queer burlesque” performer. Mostly the debate has been about whether-or-not moments of identity politics–e.g. casting only queers in your queer burlesque productions –is”fair” to straight performers. Also, a lot of the talk on the part of (I would venture a guess) mostly straight performers has been about how burlesque is a “safe place” to be a queer.

I debate these things not. Although I do disagree with a lot of it–from personal experience with being asked to de-queer my acts, requests to have acts be less “political”, and being asked to perform for crowds of largely straight men–I’m not going to get into that here. A lot of what has remained unsaid on said list, about heterosexual privilege will stay unsaid. My homo readers who are on said list who read this blog know what I mean.

I am pretty angry about all of it, but most of that has to do with a fundamental lack of civil rights and the idea of the part of most straight people that that’s acceptable or that it’s already been resolved. “Wait? You don’t have the right to marry yet?” It doesn’t have to do with performing or burlesque at all. Just about rights.

OK, so what is queer burlesque? I will take an excerpt from my own self from three years ago. This was published in the A Field Guide to Gay and Lesbian Chicago in 2006…And I wrote it–nothing like quoting your own self from a few years prior:

“Queer burlesque is an offshoot of the neo-burlesque explosion that’s been happening all around the world for the last decade. In essence, it is a revival of vintage stripping. It’s an homage to the original peelers of days-gone-by and a reclaiming of women’s bodies of all types. It’s one part Bettie Page, one part go-go girl and one part queer theorist. Now, before you go all Andrea Dworkin on me, queer burlesque, by its very nature, frequently feature acts that both celebrate sexuality and impart a political message, like feminist body art of the 1970’s. (Anyone remember Carolee Schneemann? Anyone?)”

What I want to talk about today is the idea of queer burlesque: what it is and why it’s vitally important to me to have a space that’s identified as queer.

I firmly believe that women of all sizes, shapes, colors and ages have a right to perform onstage and be recognized as their sexy selves. On the face of that statement, I’m sure many people would agree with me “Oh, yes! Everyone has the right to be onstage. Of course!”. But when it comes right down to it, many producers will only cast one woman of color, only have one “heavier” performer in the cast, and won’t cast anyone who doesn’t look a certain way.

Now, I’m not saying that queer burlesque is a Shangri-La of acceptance, that my shows are always incredibly diverse or that there are not straight producers who are the exception. But I am saying that it is more likely in a queer context that one will have a producer who is 1) a woman and 2) an actual feminist who practices what she preaches. The lesbian community, in general, is less likely to be tied to youth worship and the beauty myth. Have a question about that? Attend the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival and look around at who is naked (hint, it’s not just who society would deem “young and beautiful”).

There is also something extremely important to me about the audience at a queer show. What I think is revolutionary about a queer audience is the idea that the visual spectacle and the entertainment presented is for their consumption. (Consumption is the wrong word…But hang with me here).

In the “real world”, it is not usual for lesbians to have the ability to engage in the privilege of being able to be the initiator of the gaze. We are not allowed to look at whatever woman we please and appreciate their beauty. In the best cases, we are made to think that we are making other women “uncomfortable”; in the worst, we are looked upon as lesbian predators. And if my personal experience is any example of what most lesbians practice on a daily basis, I would say that we subdue and bury our desire, so we’re not perceived as a threat to other women.

Either way, being the activators of the gaze has been the sole domain of straight men. In a queer burlesque show, the script is flipped on the gaze. Women are allowed to look at women, express their pleasure, and are encouraged to cheer, clap and engage in the pleasure of the spectacle and the sensuality of the show before them. At a queer burlesque show, all of the women onstage are there for their visual pleasure. I would venture to say that there is something that is revolutionary about that for the average lesbian viewer.

When I was in grad school, it was interesting to me that when I mentioned the “gaze”, some older feminist professors poo-poo’d me. They seemed to think that we were “beyond it”–or at least they wished we would be. The traditional notion of the gaze is the idea that women have been (in art history) the subjects of art and not its creators. Hell, the Guerilla Girls were pushing this point in the 1980’s NYC art world when I was a teenager dreaming of the day when I could be a revolutionary artist. It’s been around for a while. But what I haven’t heard too much about (and perhaps it’s because I haven’t read a scholarly paper since I got my MFA) is the notion of privilege of gaze for gays. (Gaze for Gays! I love it.)

The last point about queer-burlesque-and-why-it’s-important-to me–and then I will step down from my soapbox–is that as a femme, I reserve the right to be as feminine and over-the-top as I wanna be. I find something extremely political and empowering about being a sparkly diva and being so gorgeous and sexy onstage that even the straight men drool–and then being in-your-face about denying straight men the fantasy of “having” me. I love the power dynamics of being able to deny privilege that is expected. And flipping the script on what lesbians are supposed to be. About being all that I am and saying, “Plus, I’m a big old queer.” It does something for femme visibility, it makes the usual into unusual and–to borrow from my feminism 101 professor–it breaks down the blocks in the wall of hegemony.

And I love that.

Burlesque and Feminism

Interview with Julie Atlas Muz

Oh, my goodness.

I just finished reading a speech that Darlinda Just Darlinda gave in 2007, and I could not agree more. She articulates the sort of weird feelings I’ve been having about the splits in the Chicago scene. (And she is now my new hero.) I’m just going to heavily excerpt here, because she really does a great job of synthesizing the differences between mainstream burlesque and neo-burlesque (in terms of body acceptance, feminist acts, and competition).

“…Neo Burlesque can be a part of the new feminism if the performer is participating with intentions to comment on the situation at hand. Julie Atlas Muz performed her act “You don’t own me” at the Miss Exotic World 2007 competition. This was her last act as the reining 2006 Miss Exotic World. Her act entails being blindfolded and tied up in roped and escaping to the song “You don’t own me.” I perceived this as a statement about the Miss Exotic World Pageant and women’s freedom. I don’t think that the pageant is exploitative, but the competition can create an imbalance in the way that performers normally support one another in the burlesque community and can feel restrictive in its competition.

One of the things that is unique about Neo-Burlesque and Classic Burlesque (burlesque performed until 1960 and 70’s) is the acceptance of performers with different bodies. If their body is different from the societal/popular norm Performers can be acting as a feminist by the mere act of having their bodies on stage. The late Heather McAllister the creator of Fat Bottom Review in San Francisco, a fat positive, queer burlesque troupe, said, “Any time there is a fat person onstage as anything besides the butt of a joke, it’s political. Add physical movement, then dance, then sexuality and you have a revolutionary act.” This is predominantly why I am a burlesque performer, from day one I saw how female audience members reacted to my body in a positive manner. They saw my 5′4″, size 12, 36 B, 160pound body and immediately identified, they had a positive reaction because they saw themselves in me. I am by no means a supermodel, but according to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, the average U.S. woman is 5′ 3.7″ (162 centimeters) tall and weighs 152 pounds (69 kilograms), so I’m almost average!

If burlesque had never died out and turned into strip the strip clubs as we know them today. I venture to say that the bodies would look less like Dirty Martini and more like Paris Hilton. As burlesque has become more popular in the United States we are also seeing a resurgence in mainstream performance venues producing shows like 40 Deuce and The Pussy Cat Dolls, the performers in these troupes are definitely carrying out the mainstream body image. There is lots of money behind those shows, and women with mainstream bodies have a better chance of participating in shows that generate larger revenue.

This can be frustrating for me, because as-it-is now there is not a venue for me to participate in the mainstream burlesque world because of my body type and my body type is almost the American average. This is a catch 22 because if I joined the mainstream burlesque world, I wouldn’t get to express myself in the manner that I do, because with the mainstream comes a lack of political commentary. “

Word. The thing that is really great about this is that it defines for me the difference between what I am doing and what others are doing here in town. It splits the hairs that need to be split about bodies, about politics, and about what I’m about. And it also articulates why I’m so heistant to get involved in the larger burlesque world. The competition and adherence to mainstream body standards leaves a bad taste in my mouth. And the very act of turning what should be (in my mind) a celebration of women and sexuality into a competition seems anti-feminist to me. It’s a very male construct–”Who’s the best?”

Not to say that there’s not support and sisterhood at the Burlesque Hall of Fame weekend. And I really wouldn’t know, because I have never been. But from my experience with She Who Must Not Be Named, if that’s what’s it’s like, I would have to continue to take a pass. (I mean, I might go once just for giggles, but it’s probably never going to become a regular part of my life. Never say never, but I have a hunch about this.)

But I also think that’s why Mondo Homo was so refreshing…There was a real lack of diva-ness and competition (that’s the sh*t that makes me crazy) there. It was more like a lifting-up of one other and a treasuring of one anothers’ talents.

We all need more of that.

Footnotes Maybe More Important Than Text

All right, I checked Jacket’s blog yesterday for a minute. I didn’t even read anything (because there was nothing new), but it did happen. And I felt like I didn’t want to be a liar here.

It happened, ok? It happened.

The good news is that I didn’t smoke last night. This is far better news in my opinion. I was feeling so bad last night–weeping and having that non-specific withdrawal pain-that-in-not-really-pain. It’s a bizarre feeling, withdrawal from nicotine. It’s like an extreme pain reaction without the actual pain–like a million knives cutting you and there’s not any actual hurt. A little crazy-making, really. (Ok, now, everyone make notes about how I wrote this, so you can steal it later for your own writing.)**

So I was weeping and begging off from every activity last night around 7:30. I asked my roommate Miss P to not speak to me; I told SJJ I didn’t want to come to this thing we had planned for tonight*(1+2); I barely wanted to talk to SLT. I was in the middle of Ugly Betty when she called and I told her I’d call her back.

I did end up doing just that and I got on the phone with her and just wept. It’s really hard, this not smoking thing. Even though I was down to like three or four a day. Even though I have quit before. Even though all of that is true. What is the hardest thing is that I really know that I cannot even smoke just one cigarette, like ever again. And the emotional and physiological effects of that are difficult. Really, if I am going to quit this, I just have to stop and it has to be forever.

In a way, giving up Jacket (you all know that giving up his blog means giving him up, right? I know that I have said this before, but it’s complicated and for some reason that I need to give up trying to understand–he had a grip on me that I cannot intellectually wrap my mind around) and giving up smoking are similar. I know that they are both no damned good for me. I know that they both keep me tied to the past in unhealthy ways. And they both feel like giving up a formerly supportive friend who just seems toxic now. And they both represent me moving forward in my life.

In fact, the mere fact that I have chosen someone who is really committed to a healthy/more ecological lifestyle for a partner/girlfriend represents a shift in the way that I am selecting who to invite into my life. There were inklings of this idea before–Em was practically a vegan and hardly uses her car; Carpentiere was a serious jock and didn’t smoke and hardly drank; and Special Lady T not only runs nearly every morning, but also goes to the gym at night too. This is a shift from the gals that I saw between Maggie and El. Smokin’, drinkin’, all things unhealthy. And El was a smoker, too.

Just processing it through.

In other news, I got a doctors appointment with my Primary Care Lady a week from yesterday. I’m gonna get my heels (which have been hurting like CRAZY) and my vah-jay-jay checked out–will keep everyone posted.

Mas later kids.

*The thing that I was supposed to go to with SJJ was a lesbian party. This is something that I have really mixed feelings about. The publicity for it is terribly traditional (in my opinion, “non-classy”) and that worries me, because we were talking about partnering with these folks on something. I feel pretty strongly about not partnering with people who utilize imagery of half-naked white “traditionally hot” women as a a feature to draw people to their events. It really fires up the angry feminist in me. Yes, some of the women in my burlesque shows are “traditionally hot”, but that’s not what it’s about for me. It’s about self-expression and the idea that any body type/ethnicity/age/gender expression can be sexy and that it’s about self-actualization of sexiness that draws people in. The lesbian circuit party thing freaks me out, especially when someone puts forth that their events are “upscale”. To me, that means “classy” and I would expect that there wouldn’t be half-naked women on their fliers and close-ups of people’s vaginas (covered in tight ass-shorts, but still VAGINAS) on their myspace page. Um. Yech.

*But the other (and main) reason I don’t want to go is because I know that it will all unfold like this: I will have a drink. I will want to smoke. I will figure out a way to make that happen. I will convince SJJ that it’s just one (she will acquiesce, because she is my friend and she will see the want and hurt in my eyes) and that it’s no big deal. SLT will not be there to help save me from myself or to remind me, as I have asked her to do, that I cannot have even one cigarette ever again. I will smoke. I will feel badly. I will have to start over with this terrible process.

**I am not saying that any of you are copying me. The thing that got me on the Stop-Reading-Jacket’s-Blog thing was that he wrote a story that used (almost directly) some of the images that I have written and some similar settings to stories I had shared with him in the past. And the main point of the story he wrote was an attempt to pinpoint “the moment it all fell apart” which was the whole fucking point of the novel I wrote in November–which I know he read. It made me REALLY angry and I posted a comment on his blog (then deleted it) and then emailed him to ask him to cease and desist his plagiarism–he wasn’t even a writer when I met him and I have been doing this for a long time. I suppose I should start copyrighting things, so that when people start to steal from me I have a leg to stand on. And to ask him to not show up at things I produce when he is in town–It is too confusing and upsetting, which we can all see from my continuing reaction to that action from three weeks ago now.