ICONIC DIVAS AND WHY GAY MEN ARE ATTRACTED TO THEM

© Dale Guy Madison
It’s an age-old question: Why are gay men so fascinated with divas? Is it their attitude or a vicarious experience? Are we inspired by triumph over adversity? Entertainers have attitude. Who has not lived vicariously through their favorite star? Has there ever been a person in general who has not triumphed over some kind of adversity? Gay fans unlike others in entertainment are fiercely loyal, dedicated, and steadfast to their icons long after the hit records and box office bonanzas have dried up.
 

A gay icon is a public figure, gay or straight who is embraced by many in the lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender communities. Qualities of a gay icon often include glamour, flamboyance, and strength through adversity. Judy, Barbra, Diana and Madonna embody many of these qualities and more.

Somewhere over Judy Garland, skies are blue
(1929-1969) Judy Garland could be called the first non sexual gay icon. According to Jon Murphy of ScotsGay Magazine, the first example of a gay icon was St. Sebastian who, in the Nineteenth Century, was viewed by gay men as a classic closet case (suppressed homosexuality) and a tortured image of homosexual desire (Murphy 1). St Sebastian was a Christian saint and martyr, who is said to have been killed while the Roman emperor Diocletian engaged in the persecution of Christians in the 3rd century. There exist many paintings of him nude as a young man with arrow piercings all over his body.
 

The Twentieth century gave birth to the Hollywood film system giving gays females on screen they could adore without any sexual attraction. Gay audiences have related to Judy Garland’s journey to the land of OZ as the perfect metaphor of being different in a world and the acceptance of social outcasts. Judy sang “Somewhere over the Rainbow” and ironically the rainbow flag is the symbol of the gay pride movement.

People who need Streisand are the luckiest people in the world
(1942- ) In 1963, when Garland sang a duet with Barbra Streisand on her television variety show introducing her to audiences, it was like one icon passing the torch on to the next. If Garland typified the diva of the fifties, Streisand carried the banner through the sixties.
 

With the success of the Broadway show and film Funny Girl, Barbra also embodied the ugly duckling/beautiful swan syndrome perfected by Garland. She won an Academy Award for her first movie performance. Unlike Garland, Barbra refused to have her large nose fixed to fit the image of standard beauty. She made awkward beautiful and had success with movies that reflected that attitude in “The Way We Were” The Owl and the Pussy Cat” “What’s up Doc,” “Yentl” and her own remake of “A Star is Born.”

If you need me… call me Miss Ross
(1944- ) When Berry Gordy, founder and creator of Motown discovered The Supremes, his goal was to create the perfect crossover act that would appeal to both black and white audiences. The same cross-generational mix of black and white gay fans that followed The Supremes made Diana Ross a true gay icon with major crossover gay appeal. 

Diana Ross, the lead singer of the trio, stood out from the start. She is a drag queen image come true. Her huge wigs, heavily made up eyes, and sequined gowns are imitated nightly in gay clubs across the country. In 1964, Ross was a skinny black, hunched back singer with popping eye movements. She inched her way ahead of the two identically dressed background singers beside her. Diana became the first cross-over gay icon. She became an icon for white as well as black gay followers.

Madonna, like a virgin touched for the very first time
The 80’s marked a new kind of gay icon when Madonna exploded on the musical scene with her smash hit “Borderline” in 1984 as the AIDS epidemic took off. Rebellious and fearless, unlike Diana Ross, Madonna tackled controversial gender, religious, and sexuality issues in her songs and music videos. Madonna boldly acknowledged her gay fans with open arms and was one of the first celebrities seen embracing an AIDS patient. Previous icons surfaced form some tortured kind of image. Garland was plain looking, Streisand had the Jewish nose, Ross was the skinny poor girl group singer, but Madonna was brazen, self confident and attractive from the start. She posed nude for art classes while a struggling singer.

Like Ross’ brother Chico, Madonna’s gay brother has always lived in the shadow of his big sister. Christopher Ciccone recently wrote a tell-all book about his sister’s life, but everyone must surely wonder (“What’s new?”) since Madonna has always been very candid about her life. She has talked openly about her bisexual experimentations and flaunted her affair with Sarah Bernhard.

CONCLUSION
These women survived adversity or at least portrayed a struggle on screen. They have had personal connections to the gay community and used the public personas to embrace the situations. Are they divas because of an attitude or have they lived up to the attitude that was expected of them? That could be the subject of another paper. 

These women have evolved into a distinct personal style that was not considered traditional. These women have set fashion standards. Their larger than life images are emulated by gay and straight fans who adore what they have seen. The stories of triumph are like dreams come true for gay audiences who want to believe the odd one out can come out on top. 

Wayne Koestenbaum is quoted in the “Fabulous Sublimity of Gay Worship” saying that “gay culture has perfected the art of mimicking a diva—of pretending, inside, to be divine—to help the stigmatized self imagine it is received, believed, and adored. (Farmer 8)” Gay self image is constantly under attack. Diva worship reinforces self esteem and adds a coating of invisible protection. Queer theorist Daniel Harris suggests gay worship paved the way for gay liberation (Milnes).

What stands out most, is the connection these women have to gay audiences during their concert performances. The audiences feel their love and total acceptance. It is something that cannot be faked. Their gay audiences believe their divas truly love them. 

When Judy Garland cries, singing Over the Rainbow, her fans cry. When Barbra Streisand says she has stage fright, her fans support her fears to get her through those moments. When Diana Ross goes into the audience and sings Reach out and touch somebody’s hand, her fans get to touch her. When Madonna shocks the world by kissing a black man in a field of burning crosses they know she speaks for them by breaking all taboos. It is hard not putting these women on pedestals who have given themselves to their gay audiences in the most pure honest way they know how, through their art. It is this complex connection to divas and gay men. It is an unarticulated awareness of his own differentness and society’s signals to him about his emotional orientation, sexual identity, and gender roles.

POVERTY: A LOVE STORY

(c) Breeze Vincinz

I remember an episode of the original “Melrose Place” when Heather Locklear’s character Amanda, a ruthless, cutthroat Donald Trump/Omarosa Bin Laden hybrid whose net worth seemed to be in direct proportion to her immorality explained with all the romanticism in the world that when she was younger her main goal in life was to write poetry and paint in oil and acrylics. When it was asked why she didn’t pursue those dreams, all the romance dropped from her face and she responded very flatly and coldly, “Because poverty sucks.”

I began to think of the tumultuous relationship with Poverty that I have had over the years. Truth be said, he’s been the one asking for a divorce; it’s been me who has wanted to talk things over, see if we can work things out. He’s been so consistent; my childhood friend, my adolescent confidant, my adult lover-rapist-therapist… he’s always been around to kiss and/or kick my ass when appropriate. For the past couple of years I have been talking with other entities: Prosperity, Self-Sufficiency, Affluence, Brand Name Ravioli… it’s been pissing him off. “Haven’t I provided for you? Haven’t I been there! When those financially rich and soul poor people demean you haven’t I masturbated you into a cynical, derisive, generic Ravioli and Ramen Noodle calm! Do you think they care about you? When you had no shoes haven’t I always provided you with Payless Shoe Source shoes! When you needed to travel haven’t you consistently flown coach because of me! You would be barefoot and immobile if it weren’t for me!”

And the truth of the matter is… he’s right. If I would have listened to Opulence I would totally be on Skid Row by now or at least have moved back in with my mom… homeless not being able to afford a condominium mortgage, car note, insurance, credit cards for Macy’s/Bloomingdales and such. It was Poverty who sat me down and said, “Kiddo… don’t save up for a car, just get a bus pass, and why buy when you can rent this ghetto ass cold water flat off of Sunset Blvd. with me and we will be just fine.” And I guess we have been… for awhile at least. But there is something awfully unfulfilling about our dysfunctional little relationship lately, something that I used to think was this manifestation of my growing ego, of me wanting to keep up with the Joneses as I get older. It doesn’t feel like that anymore. In certain ways it feels like I want more just to keep up with me. And it other more prominent ways, I think I have just become exponentially co-dependent on that relationship. I have used it as the punch line of so many of my jokes, the excuse for so many of my short failings, the hub of so many of my dispositions. And while Opulence has his distracting attributes of wanting you to live beyond your means, Poverty can be just as destructive with never wanting your means to ever grow or flourish

Not too long ago I received a comment about one of my articles in which the author touted that I need to “stop claiming poor” with the inclination that if I claim poor then I will be poor. I was extremely pissed reading that comment and I still am not in a pleasant enough state of mind whereas I can thank the author for the advice but what it did do was open my eyes to the type energy that I am giving out to the world. I don’t think that proclaiming myself to be poor makes me poor but I do think that it gives people who are listening an opportunity to treat me as if I am thusly welcoming them into my already dysfunctional relationship with Poverty… and the last thing any shaky relationship needs is well intended advice from someone who only has half of the story. One part of the story is that I have embraced Poverty, the other half of it is the reason why, and the reason why is that in certain ways….I’ve fallen in love with Poverty. You know, he has always been there for me. If there was ever one thing I could ever count on in life, it’s been my inability to pay shit on time… if I pay it at all as well my ability to be self deprecating in regards to my finances and to usher comical shards about my appearance and/or manner due to my income. And like with any relationship, you go through your changes, you both grow at different rates and hope that at the end of the day you still wind up together. Well, I am realizing, and I am putting this energy into the world, that as bittersweet and comforting as these decades have been for me, yeah… I think it’s time we get a divorce.

And dude… like any divorce, it’s not as easy as it sounds! I have been obsessed with anything that emanates from the mouth Suze Orman lately and last Monday I actually sat down, listed every single one of my creditors and gave each and every one of them a call to work out a repayment plan, which let me tell you… took courage of Herculean proportions to do! That along with trying to get back on schedule with paying my rent is probably going to affect my trip back to Chicago this Christmas and that’s when Poverty keeps creeping back in, “Fuck all those Credit Cards, and your management company doesn’t care if your rent is late! Go to Chicago! Get more credit cards to pay for the trip! You won’t have any money when you get back but you don’t have any money now and if you stick with me, you’ll be eating Ramen Noodle dinners again for the next couple of months to pay for the trip and you’ll be fine… just like you always have been!” It’s a convincing argument. It’s one I listened to and atoned to for a couple of decades now. But I also keep hearing two other voices in my head also that are basically saying the same thing, “You’re in a fucked up situation, but you can get out of it, and never return.” One voice is Suze Orman’s, the other, is my own.

So, I want to say that this is a “trial separation” but I somehow feel like a battered wife with a bloody nose and a blackened eye saying she wants a “trial separation” from her husband. You can just feel swarms of voices screaming, “No girl, he needs to leave!” Yeah, my sweet love Poverty has to go. I don’t forsee myself ever becoming a ruthless, cutthroat Donald Trump/Omarosa Bin Laden hybrid… but I will honestly and loudly proclaim that “Poverty Sucks!” And if I ever eat another Ramen Noodle as long as I live it will be too soon.