RuPaul is very savvy in this book, which at first glimpse might appear a slim and rather incoherent ragtag mix of Oprah-style me-ness and ‘best of’ pics (there is a wonderfully candid head shot of Mama Ru towards the end, sans make-up). But as she says, so much of drag is about illusion and perception.
The gay discourse at the moment centres a lot on gender identity, with issues such as trans rights, and ‘new’ categories such as cis and non-binary. I write this review in the shadow of the IAAF’s decision that South Africa’s Caster Semenya is “welcome to enter men’s events,” inflaming the whole intersex debate. So there is a lot of difficult, emotive, and highly politically-charged stuff going on at the moment.
And there RuPaul goes and publishes a seemingly vapid book like GuRu that goes against the grain of all this current serious soul-searching about identity and gender. There is even a foreword by Jane Fonda, who mentions that her iconic Barbarella look inspired Mama Ru. Even mentioning ‘Barbarella’ must be like a depth charge in the prevailing discourse.
I think drag itself finds itself embattled, and probably a bit battered, at the moment. With all the talk about being gay not a choice but a genetic determinant, is the ‘choice’ of drag even relevant in this larger debate? Drag has always had a troubled relationship with transvestism anyway.
But here is where Mama Ru is so savvy with this book. At one point she says: “Drag for me has always been my superhero costume.” This echoes an earlier comment where she reflects that Clark Kent changing into Superman is the very essence of the power of drag.
What a clever move to locate the discussion about drag’s transformative power in the testosterone-fuelled realm of superheroes – where only recently have we had a woman break through the glass ceiling (Wonder Woman), and any broader representation of other cultures and races (Black Panther).
Mama Ru is careful to position herself in a longer lineage, or perhaps one should say overarching milieu, of drag as activism. “My first deliberately drag look was called ‘gender f%k’. I was part of the Atlanta bohemian/punk rock scene. We wore combat boots, torn dresses, and smeared lipstick. All while flipping the bird.” (We also learn that Mama Ru was a go-go dancer at the Pyramid Club in New York to make ends meet, as it were, which is an image I am still trying to get out of my head.)
I was jazzed to learn that Mama Ru is such a fan of punk rock and David Bowie, of course, which places her firmly in my generation. It is not for nothing that she comments: “There’s a reason I’ve been the top bitch in the game for more than twenty-five years.”
Giving some insight into what drives her as an entertainer with an agenda, Mama Ru says: “My drag is less about looking like a woman and more about saying F.U. to the cult of systematic masculinity I was bombarded with as a little boy.” And then later on: “As drag queens, it’s our job to mock the hypocrisy, mediocrity, and absurdity of society.”
I had to wrap my head around Mama Ru’s constant refrain in this book that drag is not about assuming an identity and gender different to your own, but freeing up yourself to the innate possibility of being different. This means giving up the primary role of the ego in our personalities. It is a possibility that many of us gay people are uncomfortable to contemplate, let alone embrace – especially ‘older’ gays from my generation, where assimilation and being ‘normal’ were critical simply to survive.
“I’ve been shunned by whites for being black, by blacks for being gay, and by gays for being fem,” Mama Ru tells us, neatly highlighting the ongoing problem of pigeonholing, and how corrosive such stereotypes tend to be. The fact that such stereotypes continue to be perpetuated by the very oppressed communities fighting for their freedom of expression and dignity is troublesome indeed.
Of course, it is a much larger societal issue, where gay activists continually point out that the ‘right to gay marriage’ represents nothing but propping up one of the defining pillars of heteronormativity and patriarchy. (If drag surely teaches us one thing at least, it is the power of the Trojan Horse, and how change can be brought about by embracing something to undermine it. Which is exactly what drag does about gender stereotypes.)
While there is a lot of food for thought in this generous book, what shines through ultimately is Mama Ru’s generosity of spirit and genuine love for the ‘tribe’ of otherness, her centredness as a spiritual being (who has had a lot of personal demons to wrestle with), and her sense of fun and delight in all that is quirky and pokes a big rainbow stick in the face of the establishment.
What I also loved is how candidly Mama Ru writes about growing older, and how looking after yourself when you are still young (and flexible) is like an insurance policy for when you grow older. “Everyone knows about the diminishments of growing older, but no one talks about the expanding strengths. Paired with intellect, your intuition grows increasingly stronger and more on point.”
In the immortal words of Mama Ru: “BITCHES BETTER BEWARE.”