Lady Gaga: Queen of Queer?

Okay, I’m just going to come out (hooray for puns!) and say it: I am not a fan of theory. Reading it is an exercise in frustration, and comprehending it can be a tangled nightmare. Yes, there can be that magic moment, that instant when the clouds part, rays of light illuminate the classroom, and there is an inaudible click when something makes sense. That moment can sing, and reaching that moment of clarity is what draws me back to theory, even when our relationship is frazzled and hanging by a thread.

But for those outside of the academy, the concept of theory doesn’t really interact with their lives. I had never heard/thought of high theory before I came to college, and I imagine a similar situation exists for others. The concept of celebrity, however, although fleeting or criticized, is one that pervades the lives of most anyone living in the US; it also preoccupies much of the world’s attention outside of US borders. That is, in fact, celebrity by definition: to be known, to be famous, to be someone that strangers will recognize on their digital screens as Important.

Lady Gaga appears to manifest much of our class’ working definition of what it is to be queer. She simultaneously confronts the male gaze and the gaze of an audience, embodying a female sexuality that dares to look its voyeurs in the face. She often refers to her fans, dubbed “little monsters,” as outsiders, “queer” individuals who don’t fit nicely into heteronormative patriarchal society; her concerts become mass supportive gatherings of self-proclaimed misfits.

Lady Gaga’s upcoming album, entitled Born This Way, and her recent actions and speeches against the US military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, situate her amidst a national debate about homosexual status in the US. So yes, queer.

However, as many are offering up the Lady as a shining beacon of homo hope in American popular culture, there are many ways in which Lady Gaga is not queering the institution of celebrity, and is, in fact participating in what queer theorist Devon Carbado would deem discrimination (through a lack of recognition, disavowal, and interrogation of her privilege, seen here). While issues of homosexual identity and visibility are important parts of her public (and private, I would imagine) persona, as queer theorists we realize that this overreliance upon homosexual visibility (the “coming out” story being the cornerstone of said reliance) belongs in the homonormative realm of LGB activism, silencing the voices of QPOC (queer people of color), transgendered folks, poor people, people who are disabled, and, ultimately, queer folks who just don’t necessarily give a shit if they can be openly gay in the military, because they are instead concerned with their physical safety, access to health care, and other basic tenets of human existence denied to them.

*photo credit unknown

South Asian (Trans)nation(alism)s and Queer Diasporas by Jasbir K. Puar

When Puar submitted a panel entitled “Transnational Sexualities: Narrations of Normativity” which included her paper which bore the same title as her article, National Association for Ethical Studies asked for clarification about the relation of the panel topic to the theme of the conference which was “The Ethnic Experience in the United States: Changing Migrations, Changing Borders, and Changing Traditional Ethnic Communities.” The NAES specifically challenged her paper, the only paper about queer issues which raised many questions in her mind about why they would do such a thing. Puar, in this article, seeks to show how “queer” and “diaspora” relate to each other. She does by looking at A Lotus of Another Color: An Unfolding of the South Asian Gay and Lesbian Experience edited by Rakesh Ratti as well as other productions of South Asian queer diasporic culture.

In the section of her paper “Queering the Diaspora, Diasporicizing the Queer,” she shows us some of the ways the words interact with each other. Puar says “queer” has “presumed that its subjects have a fixed relation of inclusion within the nation-state, one that is rarely interrogated.” Being queer does not bring about questions of whether or not that person is a member of a nation. Diasporas are mobilized spaces of transcendence of the nation-state. People who have moved from one country to another are not fully members of each country. The terms, incorporated together, force particular redefinitions of the originals. Diasporic communities they can also be a source of various support for national movements. The people who have left their home countries still feel like they belong to their home countries and do things to show their belonging.

Puar says she has two main concerns, 1) that constructs of queer diaspora rests on cultural nationalism and 2) that queer diasporic discourses (conversation, discussion) show the West as a site of “sexual liberation, freedom, and visibility,” a place where it is more acceptable to be queer. The first concern is illustrated in Lotus because of the “recovery work.” In Lotus, they try to show that homosexuality is nothing new to India, that it is there in the history. They reduce South Asia down to India, and India becomes Hindu culture and religion. The static Indian heritage they present has a supposed relevance to all South Asian queers without considering the diversity within the group. They “other” Sihks, Muslims and other groups with the focus on Hinduism. Lotus is a collection of coming out stories, and is in itself a coming out, that there are South Asian queers. This is problematic because coming out is a uniquely Western experience. Lotus was published in the United States, and South Asians in the US have a position of relative privilege compared to those of other Western diasporic locations. These coming out stories show India as a place of origin, but the West as a place of sexual freedom. South Asians living in the West sometimes portray India as a place where being queer is not good and that going to a Western country will liberate queers.

Puar is hoping this piece will serve as a counter to an “overabundance of celebratory discourses on queer subjectivities.” She does not mean to demean them, but she wants to caution that things like Lotus, which was done to help, can actually be oppressive through problematic politics. Diaspora may add to queer politics. Diasporic queers have this problem of belonging to a nation without being a part of the nation. It's a paradox highlighted in the problem of visibility where some welcome it and others see it as dangerous. It is important to question how and why certain queer subjectivities are highlighted over others.