They have conquered hairy dudes in Great Neck (Adam Zalta), manly artists in Manhattan (Butch S.) and even a hopeful groom about to propose (John B.). Armed with their tools, the qualifications that only flamboyant gay men possess and probably a huge crew of helpers, the Fab 5 take on the seemingly impossible. They transform these emergency cases in less than two days and prepare them for an upcoming event. "We're not here to change you," said Carson, the fashion savant, in a recent episode. "We're just here to make you better."
It's just a little depressing that the entire basis of this show preys on the inadequacies of some schlub. When the Fab 5 sweep into the house for its initial inspection, their reactions are rough. They pull socks out of drawers, criticize furniture and food and even make comments on underwear and skid marks. Ewwww.
But is it so wrong? Some of these guys are slovenly, often subjecting the women they love to unpleasant circumstances. They can't dress. They can't cook. They certainly can't keep a house. What they need is a gay intervention. But this is not my most urgent concern.
Quite simply, it's the reaction to "gay" television that's important here. Bravo, the station that also brings you "Boy Meets Boy" and the "Gay Weddings Marathon," is only following in a pattern established by shows such as "Will & Grace." Gay television characters, for the most part, play stereotypical roles. A gay character on a show is never just there. This is, of course, always the case with straight characters-they are lawyers or mothers or doctors, and there's no fuss made over their heterosexuality. Gay characters are gay. That's their defining characteristic. And the frustrating thing-well, it's frustrating to me-is that this is most often a translated image of reality.
Furthermore, "Queer Eye" serves to further some of the common stereotypes. Carson Kressley is perhaps the most flamboyantly gay man on the show. It's not uncommon for him to offer help to a "straight guy" in the shower or lend him a hand in tucking in a shirt. In one episode, John V. is forced to endure a spray-on tan. Kyan Douglas, the grooming guru, and John stand next to each other in black bikini-sized undies while the process is explained. When John complains about the "gay-ness" of the situation, Kyan responds, "What's gay about this situation? I mean, I know what's gay over here (gestures to himself) but what's gay about you?" John replies, "Because I'm in skivvies, next to a gay. Ky, why are you looking at my penis?"
For the most part, however, the "straight guys" are less than homophobic-and I think that is a positive message the show is able to send. While the "characters" interact entirely because of their sexual orientation, at least they are interacting-and publicly.
And, although the show highlights gay men in a questionable light, I think it deserves credit for even highlighting them at all. The majority of our country is nothing like the Pioneer Valley. For a household that would otherwise never use the word "gay" to see homosexuality on TV is, I think, a big deal. It has opened up dialogues between parents and children-dialogues that might never have happened without the show. And since the show runs on both basic cable and network TV (a heavily edited version of the one-hour show appears in a half-hour time slot on NBC), a lot of viewers have access to it.
And, on the other hand, it's really, really funny.
My friend, Lauren Johnson '04, says, "I love it. I know it's really stereotypical. If somebody made a show called 'Dancing for the White Guy,' I'd be really upset. I know it's awful, but it's a guilty pleasure." I think I agree with her.