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Showing posts with label performing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label performing. Show all posts

Saturday, 26 August 2023

Vivienne in Drag!

For some time now I've been considering the subject of drag. I'm still not sure about the relationship between drag and trans. I've asked quite a lot of people, without coming to any firm conclusions.

One thing is certain. Drag, as a form of entertainment, has really hit the big time, and become much more mainstream lately. I'm certain it's due, more or less completely, to RuPaul (which, I just discovered, is actually his birth name) and his various shows, which have become popular all around the world (even here in New Zealand).

Condragulations!
But my main discussion of drag will need to wait for another article (or twelve!). I'd been wondering for a while whether drag would have something useful to offer me, to improve my presentation. In particular, I have quite oily skin, and I find that, no matter how much primer and setting powder I use, my face starts to look shiny after only a couple of hours when I'm out--especially when it's warm! Meanwhile, drag queens do dance routines under hot stage lights, and they seem to still look fine. Secondly, I wanted to see if perhaps drag queen shapewear could improve my fem shape (that's for another time!).

So I was quite pleased when a NZ drag queen, Piper Blaster, was offering a Drag Makeup Workshop in a (very cold and draughty) local theatre, and I duly signed up and went along with a friend. Piper took us through the whole makeup routine, in a workshop lasting about three hours. And this is the result!

There were some makeup techniques that I already knew about, such as applying glue to your eyebrows to conceal the brow hairs completely against the skin, so that you can paint new brows in more dramatic places. But most of it was completely new to me, including the many, many layers of makeup you need to apply (I basically lost count of them!). The makeup was also heavy and theatrical--as Piper says, you're putting on a face which has to be seen from the back of the room. So the contouring is deliberately emphasised to maximise contrast.

I have to say the finished outcome wasn't quite what I expected. I'd hoped to find some tricks to look more feminine, more passable, but instead I found the look too overcooked. But what did I expect? I went to a Drag Makeup Workshop and came away looking like a drag queen! This isn't, in any way, a criticism of Piper--or her excellent workshop.

Miss Vivi Section?
Piper says that for her, the drag character emerges once the false eyelashes are in place. That's the moment when the look becomes real for her. I didn't really experience the emergence of my inner drag diva. Although I had fun striking poses with the other people there, I didn't feel dressed for the part (since I'd come in wearing a pair of jeans and a pullover!).

Would I do it again? I'm not sure I would. First, drag is about over-the-top, flamboyant performance. I'm definitely not the sort of person to strut into the centre of a room and greet friends and strangers alike with a shrill cry of "Eat it, bitches!" That persona, whether genuine, or merely a performance, just isn't me!

Secondly, I didn't especially like the look, although with time and practice, and learning new techniques, and a bit of costume, it could definitely be improved, and perhaps personalised--obviously the drag queens we see on television have spent years honing their appearance. From a personal point of view, I seem to have discovered that drag queen makeup stays put because there is just so damn much of it!

A little digital magic from FaceApp has let me polish up one of the pictures into something a bit nicer, but I don't think RuPaul is going to be beating down my door to get me to come on the show any time soon!


Sunday, 5 February 2023

What a year!

While it's still my intention with this blog to write articles exploring aspects of gender, I still want to write about my personal experiences in 2022, which seems to have been a watershed in my life as Vivienne.

Let me take us back to 2012, when I posted this article, which was about trying to evaluate the place of crossdressing in my life. At that time I was married, closeted, and dreadfully miserable. The article contains this paragraph:
Another symptom of need is that crossdressing haunts my dreams. These are frequent; at least once per week, and for the Freudians among you they are simple, straightforward, wish-fulfilment dreams. I am in some situation where crossdressing is OK: out with my friends, speaking in public, in a job interview, meeting new people. In each case, I am lavishly and wonderfully dressed: I draw compliments and warmth and enthusiasm. People find it interesting and cool. And then I wake up, and that lovely warm rosy glow fades pretty sharply in the face of the alarm.
Fast-forward a few years, and things got a lot better. I started to go out dressed; to interact with people in shops and restaurants, and to express my gender more openly. I started to tell people I'm a doctor rather than hide behind the term "academic", and to blog about medical issues.

Selfie Queen

But things were still a bit slow on the Vivienne front. Dressing was unusual. I know exactly how many times I've dressed, because I take a million selfies every time I do. I'm a complete selfie queen--and now I've become quite the expert on the various photo edits I can do on my phone, my tablet and my laptop, to make the images as flattering as possible.

About 0.00001% of my selfie collection
Part of the selfie thing is to try out various looks and see what works: and there's a lot to think about if you're trying to take a male chassis and turn it into a womanly body! Part of the selfie thing is a long-standing habit: I would use my selfies during those long periods of dressing drought, to soothe my yearnings and remind myself that lovely fem times would reappear. And part of the selfie thing is that I really, really like to look pretty, and seeing nice pictures of myself gives me a real burst of euphoria. (And for the record, while I do adjust the colour balance for the most flattering look, none of my pictures have been enhanced with any image filters, such as FaceApp).

So I know that the number of times I actually dressed enough to take selfies over the last few years is about 4 or 5 times--a year. Part of the problem was that I never quite felt like I had the look together properly. I had to have a huge lead-up to getting dressed: just getting the body hair under control was a mission. And then I didn't feel like my wardrobe was up to much, so I never quite felt the outfit worked. I had one or two go-to outfits, and a whole lot of other garments which just weren't quite right.

Another part of the problem was (and is) that we have busy lives. We both work long hours, including night shifts, and we have a cartload of kids and animals to take care of. So opportunities were quite few.

And what I wanted, most of all, was a social life. I tried to make contact with some trans people, but for various reasons I didn't really get any momentum. The turning point was making contact with the local Pride network.

Out for Coffee

I'd already had the experience of experience of going to a party at a friend's house as Vivienne, and meeting people there. But everyone there was a friend of a friend--this was a bunch of complete strangers I would be meeting.

A car selfie!
The event was called Out for Coffee, and it was a simple enough idea: turn up to a local coffee shop, meet a bunch of Pride people, and make new friends. Although I have been Vivienne my whole adult life, it's a very unusual experience to introduce yourself to someone by your fem name. At first, it felt really powerful and meaningful--I knew this was something new. Vivienne's identity was becoming more real.

On this first occasion, I brought not just Missy but my stepkids, one of whom is quite rainbow themself. It was a family-friendly event (as many Pride events are). At first I was quite nervous and we all just sat and ate together. But after we'd had breakfast, I started to mingle--and everyone was fantastically lovely.

One woman said I should join the local Queer Women group. I was delighted by the invitation--but also cautious. Would they be OK with members like me? I asked. I know that not all women's groups are welcoming to trans people, and I would hate to make anyone else feel uncomfortable--or even encounter hostility.

So I messaged one of the moderators of the Queer Women group expressing my concerns, and this is her response:
Thanks so much for reaching out with your concerns. You will be most definitely welcome in our group and if anyone makes you feel otherwise please let myself or (other moderator) know, we would hate for you to feel unwelcome or uncomfortable. Our group is about diversity and acceptance for all queer women whether you express this full time or not, it doesn't matter to us. If it makes you feel more at ease, we do have other M2F people in the group who regularly come to our events too. I hope we get to meet you at an event soon šŸ˜€ PS: that's a great photo! 
Vivienne becomes a Person

And so I started going along to social events with the Queer Women. The moderator was right: everyone is absolutely lovely, and totally welcoming and inclusive. Vivienne's identity has become completely real: I've been to so many events that I get recognised by the regulars, and I now have friends who have literally never seen me dressed as a man. That is an extraordinarily powerful feeling.
I need all the help I can get!

There have been coffee meetups, board game meetups, meals out, drinks out, social events at people's homes, book club, you name it. There have also been some outdoor things I haven't gone along to: walking trips and boating trips and cycling trips. For me, it's unbearably hot just wearing my wig and shapewear, even before there's any exercise involved!

There is a fantastic mix of women in the group--including a few M2F transwomen. There are women of all ages and backgrounds. The thing they (and I) have in common is an enjoyment of good company, and having fun. To be accepted without question and treated just like one of them is extremely affirming. Some of them even work at my hospital!

Meanwhile, as my wardrobe has expanded, and my makeup skills have improved (practice, practice!), getting dressed has become a lot easier. It still takes an hour from a standing start--but it used to take half a day! And having makeup and clothing just there on the shelf or in the drawer makes the access much easier.

I've also come out to lots of other people, including my hairdresser (who has helped with hair) and my lovely beautician. I get a full leg wax every few weeks, and of course I have been telling my beautician about Vivienne from the first day. She's always wanted to meet Vivienne, and this week we finally made it happen! She introduced me to the other staff members as Vivienne, and of course it was lovely to get pampered in a beauty salon. Another bucket list item ticked off!

Up on the Stage

One of the Queer Women events involved an open-mike evening in a local rainbow-friendly venue, where audience members would get up on stage and read some of their own writing. I decided that I had to get up and give that a go.
Is this thing on?

This time, the audience wasn't just Queer Women, but members of the public, although clearly everyone knew what the themes were going to be. I was struck by the material from the other writers. There were agonising coming-out stories. There were unrequited love stories. There was poetry, and prose. It was raw; it was real. And then there was me!

I've written quite a lot of medical stuff under my male name, and this includes a few anecdotes about inspiring patients I've met on the journey. I chose three: an inspiring one, a moral dilemma, and a funny one. They seemed to go down really well, and afterwards lots of people came up to talk to me.

So let's come back to the wording of that first paragraph:

I am in some situation where crossdressing is OK...: check.
...out with my friends...: check.
...speaking in public...: check.
...in a job interview...: we'll let that one slide!
...meeting new people: check.
In each case, I am lavishly and wonderfully dressed: I draw compliments and warmth and enthusiasm. People find it interesting and cool. Check check CHECK!

It was astonishing when I reviewed that article to discover that so many things, which were once completely unthinkable, have not only happened, but have happened joyfully, triumphantly, and there's every likelihood they will continue to happen! It goes without saying that I could never have achieved that without the love and support of the wonderful Missy.

I've already started off this year with more of the same: four outings so far, including the waxing. Who knows what will happen next?!

Monday, 16 May 2022

Bits and Bobs

I've been collecting a few items of news, which aren't really worthy of a blog post all by themselves, but I have decided to put them together here.

Ukraine

Obviously, as much of the rest of the world is, I am appalled by Russia's invasion of Ukraine.

Zi FaƔmelu
Before this invasion, I knew very little of Ukraine. On the other hand, I was surprised to find that if you rank my blog hits by country, Ukraine comes in 10th. This is almost three times higher than my own country, New Zealand! It won't come as a surprise that hits from Ukraine have all but disappeared since the start of the invasion.

The number of hits from Ukraine made me realise that there is a trans population in Ukraine which is trying to reach out across international boundaries. I took comfort from this--until I started reading. Until recently, being trans in Ukraine could result in you being institutionalised. Ukraine ranks 39th among the 49 countries in Europe for LGBT+ freedoms and rights. Gay marriage, for example, is still illegal.

Then I read stories like this one, which describe how transwomen attempting to flee Ukraine have been detained and turned back at borders. One transwoman, Zi FaĆ”melu, describes in Rolling Stone magazine how she was repeatedly turned back at the border, because in Ukraine, military service is now mandatory for all males, and her passport still states she is male. Eventually she escaped by swimming across the Danube river into Romania. She is now living safely in Germany.

I can understand how the presence of war, plus a country just beginning to experience a little awareness and acceptance of rainbow people, is making life extremely difficult for trans and other rainbow people. But if Ukraine isn't friendly to trans people, Russia would undoubtedly be a lot worse. Russia ranks 46th on that list, and Vladimir Putin has described gender fluidity as "a crime against humanity".

One thing is for sure: the Ukrainians are showing that they are not willing to give up their freedoms and submit to the oppression and restrictions of Mother Russia. Hopefully once they send Mr Putin back to Moscow with a bloody nose, they can get on and grow in freedom and tolerance, as they have been over the last few years.

Ukraine has also won the Eurovision Song Contest for this year. As I've written before, the contest isn't so much a competition of musical talent as a sort of political popularity contest. This victory is definitely a message of support and encouragement from the rest of Europe to the people of Ukraine.

Meanwhile, to any Ukrainian people reading this blog, I salute your courage, and I hope that the war ends soon and you can rebuild your country.

PATHA

As a doctor, I'd known that the World Professional Association for Transgender Health was a thing. However, because I was still being very stealth, I didn't really want to put my hand up, because I thought I might be traced, and that might be a "bad thing".

However, that's changed now. New Zealand has an affiliated branch of WPATH, called the Professional Association for Transgender Health Aotearoa, PATHA. I got in touch with them, and they were delightful. I've paid my membership fee, and Dr Vivienne Marcus is now a full member of PATHA.

I'm not sure what this will mean for my future. At the moment I'm just trying to cautiously reach out to the other members. It's that equivalent of slipping in at the back of the lecture theatre and hoping nobody notices you. But I'm confident of full acceptance from them.

What's not so clear is how I can contribute to the cause. I don't particularly look after trans people in my daily work. I don't think being a PATHA member is going to really change anything about how I do my job. What I am good at is writing and teaching, and I've explained that to the executive on my application. It remains to be seen what (if any) contribution I can make. I will certainly notify you of anything momentous I end up doing.

Lofi Girl

I can't remember where I first saw an animation of Lofi Girl, but it struck me immediately as being both pleasing and familiar.

Lofi Girl is the name of a French YouTube channel and music label, which, which provides an endless stream of what Wikipedia calls lo-fi hip-hop, accompanied by an endless animation of a young woman sitting writing in a diary. The music is intended to be relaxing, background music, which can be used to accompany study, relaxing or other activity; in essence, audible wallpaper.

I like lots of things about this. First, I like the animation, which is clearly inspired by the sort of Japanese anime typical of the wonderful Studio Ghibli, whose work I adore. In fact, Wikipedia says they originally used a short segment from the film Whisper of the Heart, before being legally required to take it down. Since then, they have commissioned an artist to recreate an anime-like character (whose official name is Jade) to feature.

Vivienne as Lofi Girl
The Lofi Girl sits, looking thoughtfully at her book and writing by hand. She's listening through headphones (presumably to what we hear), deep in thought. From time to time, she pauses and looks up at the cat, which sits on the windowsill looking out of the window. Then she carries on. This provides just enough action for me to sit and watch it for hours. From time to time, the weather changes outside the window, and day turns to night and vice versa.

What I love about this is that she sits exactly the way I do. I love to write in my journal; I use a gorgeous fountain pen, and delicious inks from Jacques Herbin in Paris. And while Lofi Girl is a leftie and I'm not, I do sit with my chin in my hand while I write. And from time to time I pause and look up into the middle distance. Journal writing is my happy place; both an intellectual and a sensual pleasure.

Surprisingly, the part about Lofi Girl which attracts me least is the music. There's nothing particularly wrong with it, but I find it quite samey after a few hours.

Amazingly, the Lofi Girl website allows you to customise the appearance of the Lofi Girl and create a still image. So this is what she would look like if she were Vivienne--complete with dog!

Tuesday, 8 September 2020

Transgender Actors

Here's a question. You want to make a film where a transgender character is the lead. Do you need to cast a transgender actor or actress in the role?

Victor Polster in Girl (2018)
For mainstream cinema at least, the choice is easy: you pick a cisgender actor or actress and cast them. That has been true over many years, from Felicity Huffman in Transamerica to Cillian Murphy in Breakfast on Pluto, to Terence Stamp in Priscilla, right up to Eddie Redmayne in The Danish Girl and most recently Victor Polster in Girl.

For some trans people, this is definitely a problem. The film Girl, which I haven't yet seen, has stirred up quite a lot of protest, in particular because there seems to be a lot of depiction of genitalia. Several questions about transgender actors have been debated on Quora, and some of the answers and comments are very interesting. All of the quotes come from Quora and are unchanged from the original authors' text, though they are not all in response to the same question.

The first comment people make is that there are plenty of trans actors out there now.
Elliott Mason: There are hundreds of working trans actors, of all stripes and appearances. If none of them are considered "bankable" it's because productions won't cast them to play cis, but won't let them play trans either.
Eddie Redmayne in The Danish Girl (2015)
This is a very fair point: if you are a trans actor, then you might find yourself stuck between a rock and a hard place: no trans roles-- and no cis ones either!

The next point is that it’s not acceptable to have black or Asian parts played by white actors in makeup—and for the same reason we should have trans actors playing trans characters.
Joanne C Wittstock: There was a time when women were not allowed on stage. Then a time when no suitable black actors were available and the roles went to whites. For decades there were apparently no Asians with theatrical skills. The frontier is slowly moving. To a large extent trans people are the visible minority of this moment.
I completely take this point. One of the things which spoils what would otherwise be one of my favourite ever movies, Breakfast at Tiffany's, is the dreadful "comic relief" turn of Mickey Rooney in yellowface as Mr. Yunioshi. And one of the best of the classic Doctor Who stories, The Talons of Weng-Chiang, features John Bennet in the role of the villainous Li H'Sen Chang. This time, it's not played for laughs, but the show still manages to throw in some dreadful Chinese stereotypes. The few actual Asian actors in the production are relegated to non-speaking parts.

Another common theme is the failure of Hollywood to recognise the legitimacy of trans people themselves; instead making them out to be a pretence.
Helena Almagest: The persistent practice of Hollywood to have cis men portray trans women and cis women trans men promotes the misconception that transgender is merely a disguise, and that trans women are merely men dressing up, and trans men, women dressing up. A misconception that gets us killed. (her emphasis).
A trans woman should be portrayed by a woman. It needn’t even be a trans woman (although suitable trans actresses are out there and desperately seeking jobs), it could also be a cis woman. Just not a man.

Likewise, a trans man should be portrayed by a man, trans or cis.

Tara Nitka: Hollywood has made me quite skeptical about the ability of cis people to write and portray trans characters, but that might only be true of Hollywood.

But ultimately, casting cis men and boys to play trans women and girls sends the message that we’re men pretending to be women. If you can’t cast a trans girl, at least cast a girl.

Felicity Huffman in Transamerica
From the (short) list of famous movies at the start of this article, only Transamerica would meet with approval here, with Felicity Huffman cast as a transwoman.

Sara Clarke: When we cast a cis person to play a trans person, we’re at the mercy of that person (and their most likely cis director and writer) to tell us what trans people look and act like, how they feel about things, what choices they would make, etc. Considering how ignorant most cis people are of the trans experience, that’s not doing anybody any favors: either other cis people learning about trans issues through the lens of other cis people who may or may not know what they’re talking about, or other trans people who want to see authentic versions of their lives represented in the media.

These are powerful points. The criticism is that the films don't depict trans people, or how they feel, but only what cisgender people think trans people are like, and how they feel. I definitely share this point of view: several times during The Danish Girl, I found myself thinking that elements of the plot didn't strike me as real.
Chrystal Andros: My issue is what is called agency. With women it used to be (and still is in some aspects) that men define what is good for them. They cannot speak for themselves, so they have to have someone else speaking for them.

In the same way in Hollywood, managers and focus groups define what is good for the audience and define their selection of actors.

With trans-actors and trans-actresses they fit into a certain category - they are becoming more mainstream, but they are considered like women from 1950s who go out and become professionals - the freaks of today.
Three of the films I have mentioned have received very positive reviews. On Rotten Tomatoes, Priscilla has a 96% approval rating; Girl has achieved 84% and Transamerica has 76%.  Meanwhile, The Danish Girl managed only 67% and Breakfast on Pluto achieved 57%. So the filmmakers are doing something right (if not exactly breaking box-office records with any of them). But of course, if these are films made by cisgender film-makers, pitched for a (predominantly) cisgender audience, I suppose that doesn't necessarily mean they please transgender people.

Cillian Murphy in Breakfast on Pluto
But not everyone agrees with the sentiments above. Some commentators reported that, as long as the actor does a decent job, it shouldn't matter whether they are cisgender or transgender.
Mark Grinstein-Camacho: Actors play different characters all the time. It is their job. You can find actors who play straight people, gay people, billionaires, emperors of the galaxy, penniless street urchins, genius computer programmers, or zombies hungry for human flesh.

Studying for those roles and preparing for them is a big part of an actor’s work. Maybe it means watching Hitler’s speeches, or spending a day at a boot camp, or attending a conference. Maybe it means learning to play the violin for a year. Maybe it means watching other movies. Maybe it means interviewing people who were there. Any good actor can do this.
Karissa Cook: One point that most people seem to miss with these questions is that an actor acts. That is what they do.

Would it be a good thing for more transgender actors to get cast? Absolutely! Should we get bent out of shape about who is portraying trans characters? Not unless they are doing a poor job.

Look folks. If you want only trans actors to have trans roles then you aren't really looking for actors, you are looking for representatives.

Actors play a part. Their job is to make us believe that they really are the characters they portray. Stop worrying about who is playing the role, just pay attention to how well or poorly they did.
Benedict Cumberbatch as Alan Turing
This is also a point I have some sympathy with, although my own point of view comes from a different angle. Film-making is driven by economics. Film-makers make films because they want people to pay money to see them. Along the way, they may inspire, entertain, or inform--they may even achieve art--but those are very secondary considerations.

In The Imitation Game, Benedict Cumberbatch plays cryptanalyst Alan Turing (who happens to be one of my heroes). Turing was gay, but Cumberbatch isn’t; nonetheless Cumberbatch gives an extraordinary performance.

People have criticised the considerable liberties with historical events which the director took. But the director Morten Tyldrum has said that the film was really about using the medium of film to give the audience a flavour of what Turing was really like (rather than to just make a historical documentary). In this, I think he succeeds. The role of the tortured genius has been done dozens of times, but Cumberbatch manages to bring a nuanced performance which includes the awkwardness, the vulnerability and the arrogance of the character, without ever feeling forced or unnatural. Though we sympathise deeply with Cumberbatch's portrayal of Turing, he doesn't make the character necessarily likeable.

By casting a star like Cumberbatch in the role of Alan Turing, I believe people will watch the film who otherwise wouldn’t. And I believe that, unless they have hearts of stone, they will come away feeling sympathy for Turing and how he was treated, perhaps in a way they haven’t sympathised with gay people before. Other recent films which show gay men in a very positive light are Rocketman and Bohemian Rhapsody.

Jeffrey Tambor in Transparent
I think that we are in this place right now. I believe it’s more important for the public to see us, and to sympathise with and accept us, (even using the medium of fiction and the artifice of film) than it is for trans actors to be cast in those roles. Some cisgender actors have also done a wonderful job, such as Jeffrey Tambor in Transparent.

I hope that the day will come when trans actors are just actors. We are not there yet. Meanwhile, cisgender actors playing transgender parts is fine by me. What I want, right now, is awareness and exposure, and for people to view us with sympathy rather than scorn or discomfort. I think overall that we should be pleased that films with a transgender theme are being made and released. While they may not be perfect, I think that the casting of cisgender actors in transgender parts is doing more good than harm.




Tuesday, 30 August 2016

Faking It - Part Two

It's taken me a while to come round to writing the second part of this article. You can read the first one (written in March 2015) here. Now that I read that article again, I am amazed to realise how far my journey has come.

Much as I adore Freakonomics Radio, that wasn't where I first heard the idea of Faking It. Instead, it was a British TV show which premiered in the year 2000. The premise was simple: they would take an unlikely ordinary person, have them intensively transformed and coached by a team of experts in a particular field--for a short time--then the contestant (known as the "faker") would have to perform in front of a panel of judges (who know they are looking to spot a fake), to see if they could pass.

Title card for the show
As one example, take the very first episode. Alex Geikie, a gentrified English youth from the Home Counties of England, who liked to ride horses, had to pass as a hard-man bouncer in an East London pub. He was coached by Tony Agastini, a kick-boxing champion. Alex shaved off his hair, gradually ditched his pukkah accent in favour of East-End hardman talk (think Guy Ritchie movies), learned to fight by getting beaten up by Tony's girlfriend (!) in the boxing ring, got fake tattoos, and finally worked as a bouncer for a night, among real, hard-bastard bouncers.
Guardian: At RADA, Alex was coached in talking common: "The word fuck is desperately important to all Londoners. Fuck you, fuck me, fuck off! Lengthen the vowel. Let the breath be the impetus. Farkin' 'ell! Don't smile! Mean it." In grammar: "I was, you was, she was, they was."

After a month's training, Alex was one of several bouncers at the Hippodrome on the night of the England v Germany match and the head of security failed to spot the imposter ("Nah! Honestly?"). Tony was much moved. "It's like seeing your kid walk and talk for the first time, innit? Very proud. Very proud. But he should be proud of himself too."
The show drew very positive reviews (such as this one from the Guardian, which is where the quote above comes from, written by Nancy Banks-Smith). Subsequent episodes featured burger flipper Ed Devlin who was trained to be a chef (by Gordon Ramsay, no less); classical cellist Sian Evans who was trained to be a nightclub DJ; and cleaner Sharon Pallister who was trained to become Scarlet Fever, a burlesque performer, by Immodesty Blaize with input from Dita von Teese. You can see this last one starting here on YouTube.

I've already mentioned on this blog how I believe that there is something liberating about stepping outside your normal life, and being someone else for a while, and how I wonder if some actors and other performers enjoy this aspect of their work. It's this, I think, which the show attempts to recreate.

The show has several brilliant features. First the fakers are deliberately selected to be hopelessly inappropriate for their adopted roles. Almost all are quiet, soft-spoken, lacking in self-confidence, set in their ways. They all have a metaphorical mountain to climb to pull off their new roles. Second, the mentors, often in initial despair or exasperation, become fond, and eventually proud of the fakers. Third, the fakers almost always manage it: to pass unnoticed by judges and onlookers. Finally, it's clear that the experience of the training--and the faking--opens up new and undiscovered vistas for most of them; they discover qualities in themselves that they never knew they possessed. In short, it is visibly life-changing, and often this is very emotional for them. It all makes for extremely compelling television.

The producers made at least one follow-up episode, where they revisited the fakers a couple of years later. Almost without exception, they had reacted positively to the experience. I notice, for example, that the Scarlet Fever episode was uploaded by Scarlet Fever herself on her own YouTube channel.

Drag: Dave Lynn
There are only a few episodes of Faking It available on YouTube, and this is not one of them. However, the Guardian reviews are very helpful and give a real flavour of the episodes.

One episode featured an ordinary bloke (who has asked me not to mention his name) who was to fake it as a drag queen. His mentor for the show was veteran British drag queen Dave Lynn. This episode was one of the most popular episodes of Faking It ever produced. The normal hour-long episode was stretched out to 76 minutes, because there was so much good material to include.

Lynn and the Faker strike up an unlikely friendship, helped perhaps by Lynn's straightforward, matter-of-fact approach to a man shaving his legs, wearing stilettos and false eyelashes, tucking ("you sort of shove them back in their sockets"), and all the other activities required to become a drag queen.

We follow the Faker through a series of increasingly uncomfortable experiences. More than once, the producers may have thought that their show wasn’t going to happen.

But he sticks with it until the end. Later, he struts his stuff on the stage, in full drag, and the judges don't spot him as the fake. At the end of the show, the Faker muses about his initial prejudices; how he felt he had overcome them, and how shallow and misplaced he now felt they were. It's a powerful moment.
Guardian: But what made Faking It so gratifying were the clear, measurable results of the experience for both student and mentor. The Faker was euphoric in his realisation that life is a great big fruit salad, and that "prejudice is just balls" (and therefore best tucked out of sight). Dave Lynn, the hardened old pro, softened up and admitted that he'd learned even more about his place in the world. The two bosom buddies closed with a duet of Stand By Your Man; seldom have the words "sometimes it's hard to be a woman" rung so true.
The episode resulted in Dave Lynn getting a considerable boost in popularity, and he made several subsequent appearances on TV. He’s still doing drag.

So what relevance does this show have for me? I don't especially have any affinity for drag as an art form. I've never been to a drag show. I think drag is a form of performance art, whereas Vivienne feels very much part of my identity; an inextricable part of me, not some persona that I adopt when I get dressed.

I suppose the first part of it is that I am envious. Our Faker gets four weeks of intensive tuition in performing as a woman: make-up, clothes, hair, shoes, gait, the works. Perhaps four weeks would be too much, but I certainly feel I could use a few tips from the experts about how to improve my overall look as a woman.

Second, there is permission. All of the fakers in the show get encouragement, verging on a requirement, to step outside their ordinary world and embrace something entirely new: a new way of doing just about everything. Some of the rest of us (i.e. me) hesitate at every tiny step outside the comfortable boundaries of what others expect of us. The fakers blasted those boundaries wide open, and did it with the support of those around them. And for each of them, that must have been a very powerful and long-lasting experience. Faced with the end of my marriage, I am contemplating what the new me will be like. Some of those boundaries will need to be redrawn: but which? And I will need to make my own permission to make it happen.

Ultimately, though, the people in the show are literally faking it. After the credits roll, they can, if they choose, return to their previous lives and pick up where they left off, as if nothing had happened. This is not true of me: Vivienne remains an awkward, uncomfortable part of my life, and my future life will need to include her, one way or the other. The faking it, for me, was pretending Vivienne didn't exist.

Saturday, 24 May 2014

Women with Beards

My recent article on Conchita Wurst (and all of the discussion she has provoked) got me thinking in a more general way about women with beards. In fact there are many variations on this notion, which I hope to explore briefly below, and round up with a discussion at the end.

The History Books

La Mujer Barbuda
There are two bearded women which I am aware of from the history books. First, the semi-legendary Saint Wilgefortis, dating from the 14th century. I've actually written about Wilgefortis before in this blog. According to Wikipedia, no precise details of Wilgefortis' life can be verified. The legend is that, as a beautiful teenager, she was promised in marriage to a cruel nobleman. She prayed to God to deliver her from this fate, and promptly sprouted a beard. This angered her father and he had her crucified, and her traditional depiction is a crucified woman, with a beard (often with one shoe missing).

A more pragmatic (and to me, plausible) explanation is that some statues of the crucified Jesus were created, wearing a robe instead of the expected loincloth, and the legend of a crucified, bearded woman was cooked up to explain this away.

The next figure from history has been immortalised by the artist Jusepe de Ribera, in his 1631 portrait entitled La Mujer Barbuda (The Bearded Woman). Take a look at the painting. To me, it looks exactly like a portrait of a man; there is nothing feminine at all about the face, including the male pattern of hair at the forehead.

My first impression of this portrait was that Ribera had deliberately painted a man, dressed in a gown and suckling an infant. Then I started to read more. It turns out that the story of the figure in the painting is well-known and corroborated. She actually was a bearded woman; the miserable-looking guy in the background is her husband. Her name was Magdalena Ventura from Abruzzi, and at the time of the portrait, she was 52 years old. She bore her husband three sons before growing a beard at the age of 37. Some aspects of her life are recorded in Latin on the stone tablet at the bottom right of the picture.

Annie Jones
Some aspects of the painting are allegorical: at 52, she would be too old to bear a child or breast-feed, but Ribera has included this aspect to deliberately underline the female sex of the subject of the portrait. Ribera also had a reputation for deliberately painting accurate but cruel depictions of people with disfigurements, such as The Club-Footed Boy. What this says to me is that Ribera's depiction was probably reasonably accurate. Did he go out of his way to enhance the apparent masculinity of the image? It's hard to say for sure; I think probably not. It's clear, however, that he didn't make any effort to flatter the subject.

The Circus Freak

The next, and most widely-known, archetype of the bearded woman is the Circus Freak.

Freak shows entered their heyday in the 19th and early 20th centuries, exhibiting malformed, and disfigured humans as objects of scorn, ridicule and sometimes loathing. Dwarves, giants, conjoined twins and other rare anomalies (such as Joseph Merrick, the "Elephant Man") were staples of this form of popular entertainment. In this environment, bearded women were right at home, as this example Annie Jones, shows. I can't imagine what those performers were forced to do, in order to prove that they were actually women (and not simply men in frocks), but I suspect it was degrading and unpleasant in the extreme.

Jennifer Miller
A debate continues to this day over the role of such shows. Some showmen, such as Tom Norman, argued that his shows allowed people who were unable to work normally to provide a living for themselves. (Indeed, some people continue to deliberately exhibit themselves in this manner even today, such as the performer Black Scorpion). Critics argued that the shows were cruel, exploitative and inhuman. Eventually, of course, they were banned, but I see their echoes today in documentaries about conjoined twins, or people with morbid obesity. I think the public appetite for gawping at unfortunate people has not, in general, gone away.

Modern Examples

This brings me on to some modern examples. The first one I came across was Jennifer Miller, whom I saw in a TV documentary. Miller's beard started to slowly grow in in her early twenties. According to this interview, she has had an ambivalent relationship with it ever since.
Miller: I embraced the idea of it right away, and then had on-and-off relationships with it over the years. I basically believed that it was a good idea to keep it, but that it wasn’t always easy. I felt stronger and weaker about wearing it depending on what was happening. If at some point I were just feeling more vulnerable in general, that would make it harder. If I was worried about getting a job, I might feel some doubt about my commitment to keeping it.

Mariam with Harnam Kaur
Miller has worked as a circus performer, but also a writer and a university lecturer.

And then, more recently, a woman identified only as Mariam was interviewed on British television. Born in Germany, Mariam's beard started to grow after the birth of her son, 28 years ago. According to this article, she used to pluck out each hair every day with tweezers, but eventually decided to let it grow out.

Mariam keeps a blog of her own. She is quite open about how difficult it is to live as a woman with a beard. She writes:
Mariam: I remember, that when I was a child, I always wanted to be a boy. Boys had more freedom than girls. Could be more wild and climb on trees and do all these handycraft things that I liked.

In our family it was better to be a male, because then everybody believed in the success and intelligence of this person.

Meanwhile I appreciate myself as a woman and I see what I can do as a woman, and that I am not better or worse than a man. And I must say I am not all the time aware about being a woman. I feel like a being. And I would say some of my abilities you can name male others female. I do not like this labeling with male and female. I would wish we could just be ourselves and not to be fixed on any gender or sex.
Alex Drummond
Mariam describes unpleasant incidents in public places, such as people taking pictures or video of her on their phones, without permission. As a result, she (naturally) avoids very public places.

Genderqueer

Until now, I have considered only genetic women with beards. But I can't help finding an overlap with genderqueer: an expression of gender which is neither male nor female, but both, neither, or any variation you like. Is a woman who deliberately sports a beard genderqueer? Maybe, I guess.

Conchita Wurst has, without perhaps being genderqueer herself, driven that aesthetic into the public eye. But what about people who live that life all the time, and will continue to do so once Conchita's star has faded?

Photographer Alex Drummond is one such person.
Drummond: Being transgender gives me a unique perspective on my work. Born as ‘male’ but having always identified as female I nowadays embrace genderqueer as a way of living authentically as a trans-female.

Some people will live in a full time presentation of their preferred gender, others will live part-time. And a whole new movement is emerging of people who are living between genders, embracing the potentials of gender-queer and gender-fluidity.
Azis
Part of Drummond's website is given over to a blog, but as you could expect from a photographer, it's quite image-heavy. I wonder to myself whether Drummond experiences the same public reaction as Mariam? And is it a problem?

Some people seem to just like the deliberate androgyny, the deliberate mixture of male and female, that you get by combining an essentially feminine aesthetic, with an undeniable statement of masculinity: a beard. One example seems to be Bulgarian singer Azis, pictured here. Azis is apparently another Eurovision alumnus, having co-performed Bulgaria's entry in the 2006 competition, which finished a resounding 17th.

And I guess finally there is farce, the deliberate use of the beard with female costume as an instrument of amusement or comedy. As I have frequently mentioned on this blog, I don't think crossdressing as a vehicle for comedy is funny. Likewise, I find deliberate farce to do with crossdressing to be, at best, in poor taste, and at worst, hurtful.
Richard Branson: seriously?

Nonetheless, it's hard to get too steamed up by Richard Branson's performance. After losing a bet with Air Asia chief executive Tony Fernandez, Branson had himself made over as a Virgin stewardess, complete with uniform, high heels and fishnet stockings, and served drinks on a 6-hour flight from Australia to Kuala Lumpur. I can't say that he looks especially gorgeous, but I admire his courage and his sense of humour in agreeing to honour the bet (and no-one could accuse him of somehow not fulfilling his end of the bargain).

What do I think about all this?

My first thought, on seeing photographs of Jennifer Miller, Mariam and Harnam Kaur, is that they look very strange. Without doubt, the juxtaposition of a beard-- that most masculine characteristic-- on a woman, causes a slight jolt of surprise, which makes you look again. For whatever reasons: hormonal, or genetic or just plain bad luck, it is clear that women can also grow beards.

I am certain that the women who keep the beard represent the tip of the iceberg. (On Mariam's blog, some of the commentators admire her courage, while admitting that they rid themselves of their own heavy facial hair). I think therefore there are probably many hundreds of women out there who deal with the facial hair with wax, or electrolysis, or laborious plucking. I can completely understand this: the societal pressure must be huge.

That makes me think that for those women who embrace their beards, there must be something different that makes them willing to resist that societal pressure. Unlike Annie Jones a century or more ago, women in the 21st century have a choice about whether to have a beard. Having it permanently removed would be reasonably expensive, and reasonably uncomfortable, but certainly doable.

For bearded women, it must come to be their defining characteristic. It reminds me of the old joke about the two men in the pub overlooking the little village in Scotland. One laments to the other that, despite his lifetime of contribution to the life of the village, they still haven't honoured him with a decent nickname. "Do they call me Hamish the boat builder? Or Hamish the roofer? No! But you shag one sheep...!"

The same is true of bearded women. Do we know these women for their other accomplishments or qualities? No. The reason they are here for me to write about is their outlandishness. Is that what they like? The notoriety? Does that make up for the whispers and the stares and the rude picture-taking? Is that why they keep their beards?

And yet, Mariam speaks on her blog of simply wanting to live as herself. Isn't that exactly what I want? What other trans people want? Doesn't it bother us when people focus on why we cross-dress? Isn't it enough that we say that the why doesn't matter?

What Alex Drummond and other genderqueer people do is (from my perspective) a also bit weird-looking and a bit inexplicable. And yet, is what I do not a bit weird-looking and a bit inexplicable from someone else's perspective? How can I plead for sympathy and acceptance while not granting it (automatically!) to someone else?

Comments welcome, whether you are bearded or unbearded. If you are interested in women with big muscles, why not read my article about Female Bodybuilding? You might also be interested in the related, but different topics, Men in Skirts, and Men with Long Nails.

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Addendum 17th July 2014

If you're going to Saaaan Francisco...
A local news website has reported that men with flowers in their beards are "the latest hipster trend".

Apparently "spreading like wildfire" across image-sharing websites, the website gives 10 examples, captioned with more than a hint of mockery.

Though it doesn't especially do it for me, I don't really see what the fuss is about.

Meanwhile, I have been discovering that one of the reasons Harnam Kaur (above) does not remove her beard is that her particular religion, Sikhism, mandates complete acceptance of the body in the way it was born, and forbids the cutting of hair for both men and women. I think that helps to explain her motivation. For some people, that must be a pretty tough commandment to live up to, and I salute Harnam Kaur for her adherence to it.

Monday, 12 May 2014

Wurst Case Scenario

For those of you who don't live in Europe, the Eurovision Song Contest is an annual tournament of pop music which involves most European nations (and a few which are not, strictly speaking, in Europe, such as Israel). The rules are that each country submits a brand new song by a chosen artist (often a newcomer act), which must be performed live on the night of the contest.

What's the Wurst that could happen?
The contest has given rise, over the years since 1956, to some very famous acts, such as ABBA, and even Celine Dion, singing for Switzerland in 1988. However, the tendency of some acts to compete in bizarre costume and with bizarre lyrics (who could forget the majestic poetry of Ding-a-Dong?), lends the entire contest an air of camp, verging at times on the farcical. It's screened live all over Europe, and it's a wonderful evening's entertainment, albeit pretty low-brow.

The other problem with the contest is the tendency of countries to vote for their political allies, regardless of the artistic merit of the songs. Each country, including the minnows like Malta, is allocated an equal weight of voting in the contest. This tends to make for some tension, as occasionally obviously good songs get gradually nudged downward in the rankings by political voting.

This year, of course, the winner was Austria, whose artist, Conchita Wurst, won by a comfortable margin. So far, so normal. What is different about this contest (and the reason I am writing about it) is that Conchita Wurst is a drag queen, with a beard. (I love that in German, wurst means sausage). Take a look:


Before Wurst even sang in the contest, she came under fire from Russia, Belarus and Armenia, who demanded she withdraw. Russian lawmaker Vitaly Milonov branded Eurovision a "hotbed of sodomy", while Armenian competitor Aram Mp3 described her as "not natural". Russia, in particular, has been institutionally homophobic for many years.

If the Wurst comes to the Wurst
Though I haven't listened to all the songs for this year, I don't think this one, Rise Like a Phoenix, is all that brilliant. Even allowing for the handful of songs by fishwives in knitted shawls with accordions, which we are usually treated to in Eurovision, I can't believe this one, though it's all well and good, is actually the best in the competition. (The second-place song, Calm After the Storm by the Netherlands' Common Linnets, is, I think, a much better song).

And that leads me to believe that something else is responsible for Wurst winning the contest.

The most obvious thing which strikes one about Wurst is her appearance. Conchita Wurst is the drag persona of Tom Neuwirth. As a woman (i.e. without the beard), she would be absolutely dazzling; a knockout. On the other hand, the beard looks very odd indeed, very disturbing and out of place (while everything else, from the exquisitely curved eyelashes to the lip gloss, to the flowing gowns and fabulous shoes, screams "gorgeous woman!").

But perhaps gorgeous drag queens are too common; too mainstream? Perhaps an "ordinary" drag queen wouldn't have captured everyone's attention. The beard, without doubt, is the hook. The beard is also cosmetically enhanced; it looks just too perfect. And yet, Wurst is beautiful, in a strange and unusual way. Like chilli pepper on fruit salad, the whole package kinda works. I think it may be because she reminds me of another figure, with long flowing hair, a light beard, and deep, soulful eyes.

Wurst bears an unmistakeable resemblance to popular depictions of Jesus. There is no evidence that this is intentional, but it is (at least to my eyes) inescapable. Before you deluge me with hate mail, I intend to draw no further parallels between those two figures (and other commentators have noted a resemblance to a much more secular figure, Kim Kardashian).

Wurst hasn't been the first gender-blurring competitor in Eurovision. Israeli transsexual Dana International won the competition in 1998, with her song, Diva. Wurst isn't even the first bearded woman in the contest: France's 2008 entrant, Sebastian Tellier, had a backing group of five women with false beards (to match his natural one), when he sang his song Divine.

Kim and Conchita. Which is Wurst?
When she won the competition, a delighted and emotional Wurst took the microphone:
Wurst: This night is dedicated to everyone who believes in a future of peace and freedom. You know who you are - we are unity and we are unstoppable.

I dream of a world where we don't have to talk about unnecessary things like sexuality, who you love. I felt like tonight Europe showed that we are a community of respect and tolerance.
Wurst's particular appearance is more in alignment with genderqueer than anything else I can think of. Nonetheless, from her personal website, it seems clear that tolerance is her most deliberate and explicit message. And for this, I think she deserves our congratulation and support. Though her motivations for wearing a frock may differ from my own, I think she is doing positive things to further acceptance of trans people in general.

And I think the reason that Wurst won Eurovision was the combination of those two things. First, that gimmick: an outrageous bearded drag queen, eye-catching and flamboyant, beautiful and proud. This might not have been enough to do it, but set against the background of Russian homophobia, it gave the more progressive Western nations the opportunity to poke one in the eye of those stuffy old Russkies; a chance which they couldn't pass up.

By competition rules, Austria will host the contest next year. At least one commentator is predicting a lot of false beards among the audience!

No sausages were harmed in the writing of this blog post, though some had the Wurst night of their lives. No more puns on the name: I promise!

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Addendum 22nd May 2014

Some of my commentators, including Janice, below, have pointed out that Conchita Wurst's name, although it translates as sausage, was chosen because of the German phrase es ist mir Wurst, meaning it's all the same to me. Whilst I accept this argument, I can't help thinking that sausage is also an excellent drag queen name, because of it's suggestive nature. Mind you, in the context of drag queens, it's hard to find the name of any fruit, vegetable or foodstuff which is free of suggestive connotation!

But taking the name literally, one Austrian butcher has produced an actual Conchita Wurst, a sausage with her face on every slice. How wonderful is that?

Meanwhile, the trans blogosphere has been convulsed with debate about the exact place (if any) that Conchita Wurst occupies, and whether she is doing us good, or harm, by her antics.

One viewpoint seems to be that Conchita Wurst is the female drag persona of a male entertainer, and that therefore Wurst isn't trans at all. A second viewpoint seems to be that, as a man in a dress, Wurst is perceived as being trans by the general public, whoever they might be, and is (whether we like it or not) going to get lumped in alongside the rest of us crossdressers, transsexuals, and so on. A third viewpoint, from the trans community (and expressed by Tasi in the comment to this article) is that, by deliberately mashing together a beard and a beautiful woman, Wurst is doing harm to the trans community by furthering a popular perception that we are all a bunch of weirdos.

I have been struggling with my own feelings about Wurst, but nobody has put it better than my correspondent Janice Lacey. With her agreement, and building on her comment below, I am quoting her here:
Janice: Firstly let me state that I wasn’t at all impressed with the bearded lady thing and deleted nearly all the posts on the social group I follow referencing it. I personally felt threatened by someone dressing as I like to, and also sporting facial hair. That being said, I eventually put aside my own fears of this subject and dived in with both feet.

I read about a boy with a desire to dress as a girl. I can identify with that. He was restricted from doing so and I can identify with that too. He is teased because of his desires and I can identify with that. At some point, when he had gained the confidence and tough skin one needs to be dual-gendered he creates a character that goes beyond the envelopes of discrimination. Not just wearing a dress, but wearing fabulous dresses. And why not? Just add in the beard to really irritate those that hate him and discriminate against him. Conchita was born.

As Conchita, Tom is allowed to wear a dress. The little boy that only wanted to wear a dress is now allowed to dress as he pleases. The beard, in my opinion, represents the male child. Tom is a performer and loves to sing, and as a drag performer is able to earn a living singing while wearing a dress.

Lastly let me summarize my thoughts: Tom Neuwirth and Conchita Wurst are a threat to me as a trans-gendered person. So much is being said about her being “Trans” that people are going to be looking at me and wondering if I am like her.

I AM MOST DEFINITELY NOT! I stand for something deeper, more significant, more important, and more meaningful!

Whoa there! What did I just say? My statement could also be made by my coworkers, my friends, my parents, my wife, or perhaps your parents, friends, co-workers and wife that can’t accept you as you are completely. How can I be who I am, as both Janice and James, and expect the general populace to accept me while I stand in as judge and jury against someone so totally different from myself? Tom/Conchita is unique, but not all that different from me really.

I vote to support his cause, for in doing so I am released from my own fears.
One of my correspondents wrote of Wurst: She makes us look ridiculous. She's neither man nor woman but a half-assed caricature of both. And while I can completely understand this viewpoint, from someone who wants to look as feminine as possible, I can't help thinking that, actually, that same comment could equally be applied to me, or other crossdressers.

Janice's comment has crystallised it for me. I cannot demand acceptance for myself as a crossdresser, and refuse that same acceptance to someone else who has a different way of presenting themselves.