The “Don’t Say Gay” Bill in Florida is only the beginning of the backlash against the queer community. The legislation was signed into law in March 2022 by Governor Ron DeSantis. The bill states that “classroom instruction by school personnel or third parties on sexual orientation or gender identity may not occur in kindergarten through grade 3 or in a manner that is not age appropriate or developmentally appropriate for students in accordance with state standards.” It bans LGBTQ+ teachers from disclosing their queer identity to their students in any capacity. Dana Goldstein, of the New York Times, reports that “The language is vague and subject to interpretation. The preamble of the bill further muddles matters. It prohibits not only ‘instruction’ around gender identity and sexual orientation, but also ‘classroom discussion’ of these topics.”
Since the beginning of 2023, over 124 anti-LGBTQ bills have been proposed in State Legislatures across the country, with one of the most historically parallel coming from Tennessee. The bill passed in Tennessee states that an “adult cabaret performance,” considered a performance in a location that features topless dancers, go-go dancers, exotic dancers, strippers, male or female impersonators who provide entertainment that appeals to prurient interest, or similar entertainers…”, is illegal. The bill was amended to include, “it is an offense for a person to engage in an adult cabaret performance: On public property, or in a location where the adult cabaret performance could be viewed by a person who is not an adult.”
Erin Reed, an activist and independent journalist, argued that the Tennessee Senate Bill 3, similar to the “Don’t Say Gay” bill in Florida, has vague language that does not create specific definitions and is done so purposefully. For example, the legislation’s language puts trans people and drag queens into the same category. It states that it impacts “male or female impersonators.” The bill also bans performance that appeals to a “prurient interest” which is not defined in the legislation. Anyone who is charged with violating this law can be convicted of a felony.
Effectively, under this policy, people such as RuPaul, a famous drag queen who hosts RuPaul’s Drag Race, and Kim Petras, a trans music artist, would not be allowed to perform in the state of Tennessee. Due to the vague language of the bill, it has been argued by opponents, such as Erin Reed, that this could effectively be a ban on trans people in the state of Tennessee.
The core prohibition of the Tennessee bill mirrors pre-Stonewall laws that policed queerness based on clothing. Leading up to the Stonewall Riots of 1969 in New York, the city used unrelated laws as a means of regulating the queer community. This became known as the “three-piece rule,” and while it was never officially written anywhere in legislation, the code condemned anyone who wore three or more articles of clothing that did not match their gender assigned at birth. Police utilized masquerade laws, which outlawed people from having their “faces painted, discolored, covered, or concealed, or be otherwise disguised, while in a road or public highway,” as a means to arrest and jail queer people.
Long before the Stonewall Riots of 1969, queer people used clothing as a means of self-preservation. In the 40s, 50s, and 60s, gay men would wear specific accessories to communicate their existence with other gay men. Suede shoes, a change in how a pocket square in a suit was placed, and even a pinkie ring, were subtle ways that only those in the know would understand. After constant abuse by the NYPD made queer existence nearly impossible without the threat of violence, pent-up rage by the LGBTQ community exploded into the Stonewall Riots. The Stonewall Riots were the catalyst of change and dramatically altered how the queer community was treated by police. After the threat of arrest for the choice of clothing was legally dismantled, queer expression exploded.
More than 50 years later, fashion, for the queer community, has become a core part of expression that was so long bottled up and forced to be hidden.
Dr. Madison Moore, an artist-scholar, DJ, and assistant professor of Critical Studies in the Roski School of Art and Design, argues that “You have to make choices about what you are going to wear because we have to wear clothing. You don’t get to opt out of the fashion system.”
Jack Reid, a journalism student at USC Annenberg who identifies as gay, treats the clothing he wears as a relationship with himself. “It’s like a little armor. There’s power in the way I can choose to present myself to other people. I dress with what I think is flattering on my body. It has to do with my relationship with gender.”
Nate Morgan, a Game Design major at USC, expresses a similar sentiment about self-expression. “Growing up I never thought about what I wore. Never saw it as an expression. Towards the end of high school, I dipped my toe into fashion as a method of self-expression and how I can be perceived. It really helped with my confidence. When I go to a queer event, I change the way that I dress. I just went to a ball. I would never wear that on a normal day. It made me feel really good. I was putting myself in a queer space so I was comfortable. I wore my fur coat, with my corset, nothing under the corset, a pair of bell bottom skinny jeans with six-inch pumps” Nate laughingly said while dressed in a baby blue blazer and pants.
But what makes these outfits queer? Is it the items themselves that Jack and Nate pick out? Or is it because they are the ones wearing them?
Moore says, “It is not the objects. They have no meaning on their own until you put it on, then they have meaning.” When a guy puts on a dress it becomes queer because queerness is a ‘failure of masculinity.’ In really big scare quotes.”
Queer fashion has much to do with one’s relationship to gender. When queer people leave the confines of the “norms” (of men presenting themselves as traditionally masculine and women presenting themselves as traditionally feminine), and gender is no longer constrained to these binaries, we have queer fashion.
Self-expression is one of the main ways that the queer community has forced themselves into a world that has long tried to push them out.
“When you wear clothing in a way that is artful or expressive, you are not just expressing an inner core. It’s about taking up space and seizing space because the world chooses not to see you.” According to Moore, “the choice of clothing by queer individuals is all about intention”.
Arturo, a recent USC graduate, who identifies as bisexual expresses “You already have the world against you. There are stereotypes of the queer community. Clothing is a way of taking control of that narrative. Creating your own story.”
Arturo has grown to dress outside of “society’s attachment of gender to clothing”, and now participates in clothing that is considered both masculine and feminine. Much of how we express ourselves in the world, as a materialistic way of interaction, are the things that we wear on the daily. “Fashion is part of the queer experience in terms of self-expression and how you portray yourself to the world,” Arturo says, adjusting the sleeve of his button-down shirt that he got from the women’s section.
Queer fashion also takes shape within the binary that exists. However, for many people not in the know, some fashion might not be seen as queer.
Ariana, a USC student pursuing their Masters in Specialized Journalism, identifies as a “high-fem”, a queer person who presents themselves in a way that could stereotypically fit into traditionalism and the male gaze. But high-fem is done with intention. Ariana points to her large hoop earrings with her long bright red fingernails, a style of queer expression that she describes as “extra feminine”. “Imma wear the all pink outfit and not be dumb. Imma school you. It’s an f you to the patriarchy,” Ariana says. “It’s inherently political. I can do all these high femme things and do all the big boy things.”
In the workplace, Ariana explains “I have been criticized for getting dressed up for work. Doing too much or being too extra can be seen as competing. The criticism was coming from straight women to my understanding.” But with her queer coworkers, it’s a form of communication. “From queer coworkers, I get praise and compliments. I see you. You can just see and identify other queer people. It’s an acknowledgment and a matter of respect from other queer people.”
Aren, a USC student studying international relations who uses they/them pronouns and identifies as lesbian, thinks about the queer gaze. “I think ‘Does this look gay enough’ because clothes are your signaling. I fit into the acceptable range of non-binary queer fashion. When I talk to queer people they aren’t surprised based on the way that I dress.” Aren states, “When I’m picking the clothes to buy, it’s a little bit different. It feels queer; it feels affirming. If it’s in my wardrobe, it’s sufficiently gay.”
Queer fashion operates for the individual. The relationship that the person has with the clothing that they wear is a unique story, but collectively their identity is being part of a larger community that is not seen as normative.
Monica, a journalism student at USC who identifies as a trans woman, has loved fashion since she was a child. Clothing, and style, have been an interest as an art form for Monica since she was young. “I have looked up to fashion icons and designers. I found a sense of beauty within that world. I’m interested in being a designer to some extent. I view it more as an art piece and its beauty and creative identity. I don’t view it in a materialistic way. I don’t care about the brand as long as it looks pretty and it looks like it’s good quality.”
“My mom used to dress me up and I just ran with it. When we would watch Project Runway, I would get categories and design my own interpretation of it”, Monica reminisced in her conversation, “If I was a girl I would wear this,” Monica expressed. “There was kind of a disconnect with fashion prior to my transition. Because of my queerness, I was able to explore. That pushed me outside of the binary.” Monica’s relationship with clothing continues to stand upon her view of fashion as an art form. “I aspire to be the cute little next-door bimbo girl.”
In looking at queer fashion as part of the larger mainstream fashion world, Monica believes “Queer fashion is more about breaking away from the gender norms that are placed upon you. The Queer community has been living in a world where they’ve had to assimilate, accept and blend into the fashion world. I think Queer people who are experimenting with gender and breaking the gender binary are joining the fashion world as a whole, and it’s taking the fashion world in a new direction.”
Monica’s sentiments are quite similar to those expressed by Professor Moore in his experience in the queer club scene, where he encourages people to have a bottom-up perspective, rather than top-down. “Queer ideas are at the center, not the margins. Innovations in culture come from the marginalized. Everything interesting happening is at the club. It’s in Bushwick. Those people forecasting trends and at Vogue are at the club. They’re seeing what’s on the up and up.” But funnily enough, Moore believes the mainstream will be too late, “Those ideas always start in queer communities. By the time they [Vogue] catch on, we’ll have moved onto something else already.”
Moore is more interested in “why people would rather stand out than do the easier thing of fitting in. You know it’s risky. You’ll get catcalled, you’re extra, you’re doing too much. But you do it anyway. There is something so potent and powerful that you would rather absorb the negative criticism.”
Looking forward in queer fashion, Moore says, “One trend I see is alien, space age, rave. Shaved eyebrows, colored brows, hyperpop. It’s all about challenging norms. And what is more challenging to norms than shaving your eyebrows off?”