We are all born naked… – Georgia Voice – Gay & LGBT Atlanta News

Over 30 years ago, Judith Butler examined and theorized the performativity of gender in her book Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity.

“The effect of gender is produced through the stylization of the body and must therefore be understood as the everyday ways in which bodily gestures, movements, and styles of various kinds create the illusion of an enduring gendered self,” they wrote. “…(F)or itself is a concept in process, a becoming, a construct that cannot rightly be said to come into being or end.”

RuPaul expressed a similar sentiment in layman’s terms (or should I say gay terms?) in 2014: “We’re all born naked and the rest is drag.” Even though not all of us are drag queens, gender presentation is something that affects us all.

So-called “feminist” critics of drag claim that drag queens use stereotypes of women to turn us into caricatures. Even if all drag performers were trying to be female illusionists (which, as anyone who has ever been to an alternative drag show knows, is certainly not the case), this begs the question: where does the construction of femininity as a cis woman cross the line from caricature to something “real”? If a drag queen builds her personality out of stereotypes because she has big breasts and wears dresses and makeup and high heels, then by this logic, so do cis women, who are all of the same.

Understanding the fact that no matter how you perform femininity, masculinity, or gender fluidity, it is nonetheless a performance opens you up to new interpretations of your chosen mode of representation.

Drag has freed up my own expression as a woman. Watching drag performers interpret gender in different, creative and imaginative ways (especially on alternative shows like Drag-On’s Den or Alt3r) has drastically changed the way I approach my own interpretation of gender. Seeing my femininity as a costume or even a character, both as a real part of me and as an alter ego, is so much more fun than assuming it’s something ‘natural’ – especially when the assumptions of femininity inevitably feel unnatural; I no longer feel like there’s something wrong with me or force myself to uncomfortably conform to that assumption, but simply adapt the way I want to perform.

Sometimes I like to be feminine by wearing exaggerated makeup, wearing bold clothing, and showing off a lot of cleavage. However, this performance no longer feels natural when I’m on my period, for example. I’m bloated and exhausted, so I prefer to wear comfortable, loose-fitting, masculine silhouettes, which I feel give me less visibility than my highly feminine public appearance. Instead of feeling like my body isn’t “worthy” of the more stereotypically feminine performance, I feel like I’m honoring the gender expression that feels most authentic to me in that moment.

This is what drag offers us: the opportunity for invention and reinvention. It gives us the power to define ourselves rather than surrendering that power to institutions and assumptions that were never made for us, the freedom to feel good enough in a world that profits off our insecurities. The recent widespread legislative attacks against drag are an attempt to control our honest and inventive expression, to make evil the idea of ​​something new that lies outside the bounds of social construction – attacks that will never succeed.