Did You Ever Think That You Would See A Drag Queen Get In Glam Listening To Grime?
Author Lacey Roop once participated in a slam poetry contest back in 2011 where they did a reading of their feature “Gender Is a Universe”, in which they likened the idea of gender simply as stars in an expansive and complicated space of matter and energy. In the poem, Roop goes through the ways everyone stereotypes, criticizes, nitpicks, and compares black to white without ever really considering the effect this has on the interrogated. The crux of the piece is that Roop has to constantly validate and explain their gender and sexuality to strangers who have zero connection to them all because of their hairstyle, clothing, and voice.
It is only in this year that the World Health Organisation (WHO) declassified being transgender as a mental or behavioural illness after amending its health guidelines in May. However, we are still stuck in this reality where dualities such as man/woman, gay/straight, black/white are still the core dichotomy of comparison – as though our brains cannot fathom anything outside of those spectrums.
To shed some light on the matter I interviewed trans man and local drag queen extraordinaire, Seb Livingstone. I wait in his bedroom while he prepares himself for getting into full geish (drag). I rummage through his exuberant wardrobe, half of which is fun sporadically on his bed, the sofa, the floor.
On the wall over his bed, I see framed sailor jerry tattoo ideas – some that he designed himself, tasteful black and white Polaroid pictures of loved ones, a Slaves poster from a concert in 2018 of the naked members intimately close in a gritty shower grinning as they look over their shoulder at the ogling photographer.
I compliment his sense of style and ask where it stemmed from to which he replied with uncertainty. “When I was a child I always liked dressing up,” he says skipping the background music from Kim Petras to JME. “It didn’t matter, I could be a fairy princess one day and a police officer the other day, which I feel like, lead to drag today”. He goes on to tell me that the reality of the matter is that day to day we walk around in a costume of what we want to show people, or what is expected of us, but it’s typically queer people who get pulled up on the matter because they’re pretending to be something too risqué for the status quo – and often times it’s usually a more accurate representation to who they are than say someone wearing a suit, or uniform. “Like heels were invented for men back in the day, but today god forbid a man walk in a pair of them,” he tells me glueing his eyebrows down before priming his face. “I also think that if I was born male it probably wouldn’t even be as questioned as much! like, oh, it’s just a gay guy in heels! But it’s apparently a completely different story for a trans man.” I ask him if he feels there’s some progress in that specific way of thinking. “Yeah, I feel like there is a lot changing, you get noticeably more and more creative people pop out of the blue on TV or the internet, but I don’t know if it’s because I’m part of a different scene and more exposed to it, or whether it actually is growing”
Napping concealer all over his eyes we talk more in-depth about societies’ obsession with gender but it’s weird, innate way of backpedaling when it gets a little bit too unsavoury. Almost as if there’s a limit to what should be witnessed – “They’ll throw their hands in the air and say ‘That’ll do, that’s enough, stop there’ and brush us off”. But while it’s an understandable reaction, is that the way forward?
It’s easier to generalise things in order to understand them, but there comes a point where that generalisation becomes a stereotype or cliche that keeps any form of unity or progression stagnant. However, it seems that society is content this way, and never really pay attention to how this perception of queer men is actually an exoticised or fetishised version of something quite normal.
“I don’t want to see myself fetishised, in a sense being a trans person it’s more noticeable, not extremely or aggressively, but it’s quite a fetishised thing – it’s like not every gay person is the same.” And this is becoming more and more noticeable with the growing popularity of trans porn at everyone’s disposal. And, while there is nothing wrong with pornography, and almost anything can be fetishised, it’s interesting to point out that the foundational narrative behind transgender porn is that these actors and actresses are depicted as deceivers (commonly known as traps), or thoroughly sought out to be conquered by straight males. Via the sexual gaze, almost anything is easily obtainable to the straight male, and at it’s most fetishised and violent it is oftentimes trans women or lesbians.
The thickets and blackest eyeliner is effortlessly etched on to his eyelid, cutting through where bis brow once was, and the conversation then leads to how exactly one should go about seeking this kind of information to better understand the trans experience. “The internet exists” Seb mumbles while he focuses on the symmetry of his eye look. “There needs to be a desire for straight people to educate themselves if they’re so interested in what’s in a trans person’s pants”- such as understanding hormone therapy, or experiences with surgery.
He goes on to say that he isn’t averse to informing and edifying people who are curious, as they may have never met a trans person before and genuinely want to understand. “Half of the time they ask questions without even thinking of my feelings, which I’m okay with because I’m an open person – unless it’s like “uhhhh do you have a dick then?” That’s none of your business – I met you 30 seconds ago and it has nothing to do with you”.
I get permission to rifle through his things – a privilege he rarely gives anyone. He paints his face a reddish hue as I look through each draw of his vanity, each one surprisingly organised and filled with various cosmetics that he’s collected throughout the years from high-end eye shadow pallets to budget quality glosses and foundation – all of which lending some insight to Seb’s inner workings.
“Imagine this will be broadcast to the entire world,” I say. “what parting words would you want to give?” He’s silent for a minute but doesn’t look away from the mirror as he maps the contours of his face. With each stroke he casts a thick white crease, then buffs it out into a graduating pink – his face now almost complete with him looking like the most flamboyant and salacious demon from hell.
“Can you hear the cogs turning?” He laughs putting his brush down. He huffs again, and sits silent, but not in deep contemplation. “One thing that does annoy me which I’ve only just discovered recently is being a trans person and doing drag and still doing very girly things can be really confusing to a lot of people. But I don’t understand why things have to be for a boy, or has to be for a girl. I get basic science like everyone else, but why do we have to get meaningless stuff like fabric or colours, and targeted them to certain genders? I think everyone should ask themselves that and come to whatever conclusion works for them, and not worry about the conclusion someone else has made”
After hours in front of a mirror painstakingly finessing a completely different face with brushes, sponges, and about 2lbs of makeup, an emotionally draining discussion on queer culture, and 3 of Seb’s playlists, we are finally ready for the piece de resistance of throwing on an exuberantly quaffed blonde wig, and Sabrina is ready for the night in Brighton. As much I wish I could join in on the party ahead, I’m not prepared at all for any kind of fiesta. On my walk home I look up at the night sky and the ever-expanding universe thinking like Roop on how each star shines along, essentially the exact same way, but only a little different.
