Struggling for Ordinary. Andre Cavalcante
feature of mainstream music. The New York Dolls, Queen, and T. Rex playfully blurred gender lines. While pop singer David Bowie introduced the world to Ziggy Stardust, his androgynous space alien alter ego. As Stryker (2008) argues, throughout the decade a “transgender aesthetic” flourished, forging “a new relationship between gendered appearance and biological sex” (91–92). Beyond glam rock, the world of disco also ushered glittering queerness and gender play into the 1970s global mainstream. Defined by “strangeness, gayness, mixing, dress-up, drugs, androgyny, and excess” (Gamson 2005, 141), disco revolved around fantasy, dance floor pageantry, and the thrill of living in the moment. Artists such as Sylvester, the gender- bending disco diva, and Grace Jones, the severely masculine and angular supermodel and singer, were queer countercultural heroes, representative of disco’s turn toward gender experimentation.
In the early 1980s, gender transgression also became a mainstay of one of the decade’s most iconic brands: MTV. As Zoonen (1995) surmises, “MTV seems to be the only part of mainstream culture in which subversions of gender are no exception or a sign of marginality” (314). The advent and rise of MTV brought gender-bending representations to a national and eventually global audience. Subverting the norms of dress and embodiment allowed artists to produce the kinds of fantastic spectacles warranted by the new medium. As a technological form with particular biases and affordances, the music video made “direct address and personal display necessary for a star persona” (Straayer 1996, 87). The performance of a heightened and visually compelling self was paramount in branding and marketing one’s music. Some of the most successful names of the MTV era boldly traversed gender norms. The romantic femininity of Prince, the colorful costuming of Boy George, and the seductive gender play of Annie Lennox, for example, rebelled against an established gendered order. In their music videos and performances, notions of sex and gender were turned upside down and gender signifiers were appropriated across bodies without concern for physical sex. Performances of drag were also included into the mix. In 1985, Divine released the music video “Walk Like a Man,” a queer and irreverent take on the classic by Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons.
But it was not until 1993 that drag made its biggest splash with RuPaul, a professional drag queen living in New York City. RuPaul’s massive hit song “Supermodel (You Better Work)” turned her into a cultural sensation. The infectious, upbeat lyric topped US dance charts and its MTV music video brimmed with drag subcultural references. After the success of “Supermodel,” RuPaul’s fame surged in the 1990s. She published the memoir Lettin’ It All Hang Out (1995), earned a seven-year contract for M.A.C. cosmetics to be the “Face of M.A.C. Cosmetics” (the first drag queen to ever do so), covered the song “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” with Elton John, and became a radio personality on New York City’s WKTU morning show. On cable television, RuPaul also hosted her own talk show, The RuPaul Show, on VH1 from 1996 to 1998, a flashy throwback to 1970s variety programming.
Indeed, cross-dressing has been a fixture of American television from the beginning. In Texaco Star Theater (1948–1956), an early and popular television comedy-variety series, Milton Burle frequently cross-dressed in his skits.10 These gender masquerades became a trademark of his comedy throughout the 1950s. Not surprisingly, his inspiration to cross-dress came from observing New York City’s gay drag queens (Nesteroff 2015). Burle’s cross-dressing was only the start of a practice that would soon become a reliable comedic device on television. Cross-dressing continued to appear in variety and sketch comedies across the televised landscape including The Flip Wilson Show (1970–1974), Monty Python’s Flying Circus (1969–1974), Saturday Night Live (1975–present), In Living Color (1990–1994), and MADtv (1995–2009).
Paralleling film, it was during the 1970s that television turned toward more sober, everyday transgender narratives. Norman Lear’s All in the Family (1971–1979) and The Jeffersons (1975–1985), sitcoms known for addressing contemporary social issues, were two series that handled transgender topicality with a sense of earnestness—as well as a touch of comedy. In “Archie the Hero” (1975), All in the Family’s notorious conservative curmudgeon, Archie Bunker, saves the life of a self-described transvestite and female impersonator named Beverly LaSalle. The episode is filled with the typical sitcom pratfalls and antics involving her gender identity, and in a later episode she is set up with Archie’s friend on a date as a joke. Still, the couple befriends Beverly and their relationship crosses episodes and moves beyond the superficial.
In the episode titled “Edith’s Crisis of Faith” (1977), Beverly is murdered during a mugging at Christmastime. The murder, which occurred in part as a result of Beverly’s transgender identity, devastates Edith and causes her to question her faith. Fighting back tears, she exclaims, “I’m mad at God … All I know is Beverly was killed because of what he was and we’re all supposed to be God’s children. It don’t make sense.”
Figure 1.2. All in the Family (CBS) Season 6, 1975–1976. Episode: “Archie the Hero.” Air date: September 29, 1975. Archie and Beverly chat in his living room. Credit: CBS/Photofest.
In a 1977 episode titled “Once a Friend,” The Jeffersons also engage the issue of transsexuality. During the storyline, George Jefferson’s pal from the navy, Eddie, reconnects with him. Only now Eddie is a trans woman who uses the name Edie. During their first encounter, George asks his old friend why he dresses as a woman, questioning, “If you ain’t gay and you’re not a weirdo, then what are you?” With coolness and confidence, Edie responds, “I had the operation. I had a sex change. George, I’m a woman now … I feel good about myself.” Given the time period, the conversation is surprisingly tame and sincere. By the end of the episode, and in quintessential sitcom fashion, George overcomes his initial shock and confusion regarding his friend’s transition. He addresses her by her correct name, Edie, and warmly reaffirms their friendship.
Another surprisingly measured and heartfelt treatment of transsexuality for the time appeared in the hospital drama Medical Center (1969–1976). In a special two-part episode “The Fourth Sex” (1975), a renowned surgeon named Dr. Pat Caddison, played by Robert Reed who starred as Mike Brady in The Brady Bunch, receives a sexual reassignment surgery. Caddison is a well-respected physician and her desire for sexual reassignment is treated as unusual but also genuine and legitimate. The narrative focuses on the difficulty of Caddison’s decision and its impact on her relationships with friends, colleagues, wife, and son. Reed plays the part with sensitivity and nuance, which earned him an Emmy nomination for his performance.
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