Domesticating “the Queer” 1

Privileging “the Straight”/Domesticating “the Queer”:

Charting the Contours of Heteronormative Discourse in Queer Eye for the Straight Guy

Abstract

One of the surprise hits of last year’s television season, Bravo’s Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,

garnered much popular and critical acclaim. The series celebrates the sophisticated tastes and

make-over prowess of a quintet of self-identified gay men: the Fab Five. From a queer theory

perspective, there is much to celebrate about Queer Eye’s openly gay stars and their easy

fraternization with straight men. Still, there are reasons for critical concern. We interrogate the

series as an expression of the strategic rhetoric of straightness that hides and supports the very

heteronormative order it seems to challenge. We argue that, as such, the series functions as a

mediated ritual of rebellion in which gays are given temporary license to tame, touch, and tease

heterosexual men, violating norms governing appropriate male behavior. And yet, even while

this popular culture text challenges heteronormative hegemony, ultimately, we contend, Queer

Eye strategically serves to domesticate queers and contain queer sexuality.

 Domesticating “the Queer” 2

Privileging “the Straight”/Domesticating “the Queer”:

Charting the Contours of Heteronormative Discourse in Queer Eye for the Straight Guy

During the past several decades, the field of communication and media queer studies has

done much to chart the social construction of sexual desire, the creation of sexual communities,

and the ways in which people are oppressed, marginalized, or symbolically annihilated because

their sexual orientations lie, as Erni (1998) puts it, “outside of foundationalist gender and sexual

norms” (p. 161) that are central to our society’s heterosexual order. Queer sexuality – and queer

criticism – challenges that order by calling into question the heteronormative values that inform

it. As defined by Herman (2003), “Heteronormativity encompasses, at a basic level, the view that

heterosexuality is natural and normal for individuals and society” (p. 144). She goes on to note

that “heteronormativity does not just construct a norm, it also provides the perspective through

which we know and understand gender and sexuality in popular culture” (p. 144). It does so, in

large part, in ways that are not always obvious. As Dyer (2002) argues:

Heterosexuality as a social reality seems to be invisible to those who benefit from it. In

part, this is because of the remorseless construction of heterosexuality as normal. If

things are natural, they cannot really be questioned or scrutinized and so they fade from

view. Such naturalization often characterizes how we see, and don’t see, the powerful;

how they see, and don’t see, themselves. (p. 119)

The invisibility of heterosexual power and privilege to those who posses and benefit from such is

strikingly similar to the invisibility of the power and privilege associated with whiteness as

experienced from a “white” perspective. Indeed, what Dyer (1997) writes with respect to

whiteness is equally applicable to heterosexuality, “as long as race is something only applied to

non-white people, as long as white people are not racially seen and named, they/we function as a

human norm” (p. 1). In much the same way, we suggest, as long as sexual orientation is a term
 Domesticating “the Queer” 3

applied primarily to those who are not deemed “straight,” then sexual “straightness” (i.e.,

heterosexuality) will continue to serve as the norm against which other forms of human sexuality

are defined, measured, and judged.

In the field of communication and media studies, queer theorists have examined how the

conventions of the mainstream’s heteronormative socio-sexual order tame and contain, if not

outright exclude, queers and queer sexuality (e.g., Battles & Hilton-Morrow, 2002; Brookey &

Westerfelhaus, 2001, 2002; Cooper, 2002; Epstein & Steinberg, 1997; Fejes, 2000; Herman,

2003; Russo, 1987). To date, however, there has been little critical scrutiny of the rhetorical

construction of heterosexuality itself – and the cultural apparati that support it – of the kind that

has explored whiteness as a socio-rhetorical construct. Indeed, heterosexuality has remained for

the most part a largely uninterrogated space. This speaks to the heteronormative power of what

we term the strategic rhetoric of straightness. This rhetoric, which has rendered heterosexuality

so normal and natural as to be almost invisible, permeates the mainstream’s cultural, legal,

political, religious, scientific, and social understandings of human sexuality. Evidence of its

influence can be found in religious and political discourse, cultural institutions, social

arrangements, laws and legislation, and the offerings of popular culture. The power and

pervasiveness of this rhetoric enable it to exert a great deal of influence in shaping how it is that

we understand our own sexuality and that of others, and in determining what forms of sexuality

are sanctioned and which are proscribed. This sanctioning greatly benefits those whose sexuality

is embraced by the social mainstream and makes life very difficult for those whose proscribed

sexuality is not.1

In this study, we examine how the strategic rhetoric supporting the heterosexual

mainstream simultaneously renders straight sex natural and accords it unquestioned socio-sexual
 Domesticating “the Queer” 4

centrality while at the same time serving to domesticate queers and queer sexuality. Our project

is informed by Nakayama and Krizek’s (1999) critical examination of the strategic rhetoric of

whiteness, which draws upon de Certeau’s (1988) distinction between strategies and tactics.

Strategies are employed by those who occupy the socio-cultural center and thus operate from a

position of privilege and power, while tactics are used by those on the margins whose lack of

such power allows only temporary and limited incursions into spheres under dominant control.

Critics interrogating whiteness attempt to chart the contours of these strategies of dominance

with regard to race-based power structures; here we hope to engage in a similar enterprise in

excavating the socio-sexual landscape. In order to engage in such a critical excavation, we

examine the popular television series Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.2 Both hegemonic and

subaltern discourses are sometimes evident in popular culture texts, and as such these offer

critics “battleground” sites where competing cultural discourses can be charted. As a popular

culture text of almost immediate and national notoriety, Queer Eye affords an unique view of

sexual identities positioned at a literal and discursive crossroads.

Queer Eye as Ritual of Rebellion

Bravo’s Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, which debuted in 2003, has attracted a large and

loyal viewing audience and garnered a great deal of critical acclaim. As Robinson (2004) reports,

“Queer Eye was an instant hit and became the cable channel’s most watched program ever” (p.

4G). Indeed, broadcast of new episodes during the series’ first season frequently generated the

“No. 1 cable results among the Adults 25-54 and 18-49 demographics . . . making Bravo cable’s

No. 1 ad-supported network in prime time in both these key categories” (Rogers, 2003, p. 1).

Queer Eye was so successful, in fact, that Bravo’s parent network, NBC, opted to recycle

episodes of the show as part of its primetime programming; these reruns also drew high ratings.
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In addition, NBC scheduled a three episode “marathon” of Queer Eye as inspired counter-

programming to CBS’ coverage of Super Bowl XXXVIII (Rogers, 2004). Capitalizing upon the

show’s success, Bravo now airs Queer Eye UK, and plans a spin-off series, Queer Eye for the

Straight Girl, as part of its 2004-2005 season. As yet another sign of the show’s popularity,

Queer Eye has spawned such spoofs as Comedy Central’s Straight Plan for the Gay Man and

parodies on Saturday Night Live. The series has is not only popular, but has been a darling of

critics and industry insiders as well. In 2004, Queer Eye won the Emmy Award for Outstanding

Reality Program (Paulsen, 2004).

Queer Eye “was created by David Collins, a gay man, and developed by David Metzler, a

straight man” (Rogers, 2004, p.1). The series celebrates the sophisticated tastes and make-over

prowess of a quintet of self-identified gay men, fondly referred to as the Fab Five. The Fab Five

consists of Ted Allen, “food and wine connoisseur”; Kyan Douglas, “grooming guru”; Thom

Filicia, “design doctor”: Carson Kressley, “fashion savant”; and Jai Rodriquez, “culture vulture”

(“Fab Five,” 2001, p. 1). The premise of the show is simple:

Each week [the Fab Five’s] mission is to transform a style-deficient and culture-

deprived straight man from drab to fab in each of their respective categories: fashion,

food and wine, interior design, grooming and culture.

It’s a full lifestyle make-over – a make better show where straight guys turn in

their pleats for flat fronts, learn about wines that don’t come in a jug and come to

understand why hand soap is not a good shampoo (and vice versa). When the journey is

done, a freshly scrubbed, newly enlightened, ultra hip man emerges. (“About us,” 2004,

paras. 2-3)
 Domesticating “the Queer” 6

Queer Eye is positioned thus at the intersection of two major trends in American television

programming. First, the series’ rigidly formulaic format is similar to that of other “unscripted”

reality remake shows in which a person and/or a home is radically and rapidly transformed. And

second, the show provides yet another venue for the growing presence of openly gay men and

women on American television (Battles & Hilton-Morrow, 2002; Capsuto, 2000; Dow, 2001;

Svetsky, 2000; Tropiano, 2002; Walters, 2003).

We argue that the series’ rigid, ritualistic formula functions as a mediated ritual of

rebellion.3 As Gluckman (1963) explains, rituals of rebellion grant their participants temporary

license to violate selected socio-cultural rules, and in doing so they provide much-needed outlets

for expressing and relieving social tensions. Often, these violations register complaints against

and provide critiques of the dominant order by those oppressed by or marginalized from that

order’s center of power. Such ritually sanctioned violations serve to reinforce rather than

undermine a society’s rules, and in doing so they promote social stability even as they seem to

challenge it. In the past, religion and other traditional social institutions provided the normative

ritual experiences necessary to perpetuate core socio-cultural norms and the values associated

with them. In the contemporary Western world, the mass entertainment that plays an important

role in our popular culture now performs a similar ritual function (Aden, 1999; Vande Berg,

1995). Participation in mediated rituals is made possible via technology, which allows viewers to

participate vicariously through proxy. This proxy participation is made possible by identification

with a film’s or television show’s protagonist or another major character, and it is made

meaningful through the connection such rituals have with core socio-cultural values. As

Westerfelhaus and Brookey (in press) point out in their mythico-ritual analysis of the film Fight
 Domesticating “the Queer” 7

Club, mediated rituals are capable of providing powerful heteronormative messages, and thus

help perpetuate the heterosexual social order, often at the expense of queers and queer sexuality.

We contend that this is the case with Queer Eye. In the analysis we offer below, we point

out how, though the series seems to challenge heteronormativity, it does so in ways that reflect

and reinforce values that privilege and protect heterosexuality’s centrality and which are, thus,

ultimately antithetical to any overt expression of queer sexuality. In this way, we suggest, the

show functions as a mediated ritual of rebellion that allows for some minor and temporary

violation of the mainstream’s socio-sexual order as a means of upholding that very order in the

long run. Rituals of this kind, which are an important feature of strategic rhetorics,

institutionalize and therefore tame complaints against and critiques of the dominant social order.

The violations they permit serve as unintentional breeching experiments that highlight the very

social conventions they flaunt. For this reason, critical analyses of such rituals are invaluable in

identifying and charting the taken-for-granted, and thus often invisible, features of strategic

rhetorics. As a mediated ritual of rebellion, Queer Eye calls attention to some of the naturalized

conventions that privilege the (mainly white) heterosexual. Any discourse that situates one group

at the center of social power must of necessity displace other groups. Thus, it is important for

critics to examine how such placements and consequent displacements simultaneously feed the

logics of inclusion and exclusion.

Defining the Socio-Sexual Center through Taming, Teasing, and Touching

From a queer theory perspective, there is much to celebrate about Queer Eye. The

visibility of openly gay men, the positive4 way in which they are represented, and their easy

fraternization with straight men are certainly welcome additions to the television landscape.

According to Gross (1998), positive depictions of gays on television have the potential to benefit
 Domesticating “the Queer” 8

queers and the queer community. It is not surprising, therefore, that Queer Eye was recognized

with a GLAAD Award in 2004. Still, there is much about the show deserving of close critical

scrutiny. Some sources of concern, such as the show’s shamelessly stereotypical depiction of its

gay protagonists,5 are obvious and of the kind that have long been the focus of queer critiques of

popular media portrayals of gays. Less obvious, and of greater concern for that very reason, is

the way Queer Eye serves to support the heteronormative order while seeming to pose an

irreverent challenge to it. It does so, we argue, by strategically placing straight men and their

concerns and crises at the center of each episode, and ritually rendering the five gay men who

help them peripheral to these heterosexuals and their world.

This privileged placement of straight men is made possible by the show’s simple

premise: in our society, there are gay and straight men, and the latter can be of help to the

former. This premise is problematic from a queer perspective in that it unquestioningly reaffirms

the straight/gay dichotomy that is reflective of, and remains central to, mainstream culture’s

heteronormative bias and the homophobia this bias fosters. And, in doing so it reinforces the

notion that straight and gay are both legitimate and mutually exclusive categories. This

categorical conception regarding human sexual orientation provides the ritual logic informing the

show and drives the dramatic and sexual tensions that make watching the show such fun for its

many fans. Indeed in the absence of these two categories, there is no show. Queer Eye would just

be another make-over series focusing upon transformations that take people from some

undesirable and miserable “before” to a hoped for and happy “after.” Instead, the show exploits

tensions that exist between straight men and queers.

 Domesticating “the Queer” 9

Taming

As a ritual of rebellion, Queer Eye routinely registers several standard – and, we would

add, rather stereotypical – complaints regarding straight men: they lack cultural savvy and

culinary expertise, their living quarters are dirty and disorganized, they are disheveled and in

need of grooming and fashion advice, and – in some cases – they are deemed to be far too hairy.

During the course of each episode, the Fab Five work furiously to remedy the deficiencies and

flaws of the straight men they have been called to help.6 The Fab Five strive to aesthetisize,

civilize, and organize – in a word, to tame – straight men. In doing so, they provide these men

with cultural and cooking tips; clean and organize their apartments, condos, and houses; groom

them and dress them. And, when necessary, the Fab Five resort to a practice they refer to as

“Manscaping: Trimming hair everywhere.” Waxing hair from the backs of straight men,

trimming and sculpting their chest hair, grooming their beards and sideburns, and transforming

their “monobrows” into two distinctly defined eyebrows, are regular features of the physical

makeover of each episode’s straight guy. An excellent example of this practice is included in the

Andrew Lane episode, where the unwitting Andrew is subjected to every form of painful hair

removal noted above, grimacing and even crying at times. The practice of manscaping

exemplifies how the Fab Five attempt to tame the ostensibly wild – and thus, it is to be

understood, natural – heterosexual male body. This practice ritually codes straight men as natural

beings and, by extension, straight sexuality is thus also positioned as natural, and consequently

normal, while the queer sexuality associated with the Fab Five is framed as being as unnatural,

and hence as abnormal, an imposition upon the socialscape as manscaping is upon the hairy

heterosexual male body. The supposed need to defoliate hairy straight men provides the Fab Five

with the permission needed to touch them in ways not normally countenanced. For instance, in
 Domesticating “the Queer” 10

the Andrew Lane episode, the Fab Five pull his shirt down and complain about his hairy back.

Carson combs that hair and kids, “Let’s take this sweater off . . . we can tease it; it’ll look like

angora! People will think you have cashmere!” This kind of transgressive touching also

establishes that, for a brief time, the Fab Five enjoy some degree of power of straight men’s

bodies and their lives. As is always the case with any ritual of rebellion, such power is both

limited and temporary.

Teasing and Touching

Liminality is a defining feature of rituals of rebellion. Aden (1999) describes liminality as

“both a state and a process in which a ritual transaction occurs” (p. 81). It is a ritual passage in

which, as Turner (1967) puts it, one is betwixt-and-between, paradoxically a part of and yet apart

from society. This liminal status provides the ritual logic sanctioning the temporary violations of

selected socio-cultural rules that occur during rituals of rebellion. This same liminal license

allows the Fab Five to tease and touch their straight subjects in ways that would be regarded as

taboo in other contexts. Like the taming we have just discussed, this teasing and touching ritually

establishes that, for a defined period of time, the Fab Five are afforded a degree of control over

their straight subjects, so long as they do not violate the never negotiable heteronormative

proscription against overt acts of homoerotic sexuality. The boundaries, while not explicitly

stated, are quite clear. The Fab Five are allowed to grab, hold, hug, pat, and stroke straight men

but they are not permitted to kiss them. And, it goes without saying, any sex between the Fab

Five and the straight men they encounter is strictly Verboten, though the possibility of such

behavior can be flirtatiously hinted at. Queer Eye episodes are filled with verbal and tactile

transgressions. While the teasing and touching take many forms, and often accompany one

another, there are two dominant themes expressed in this way: interest in and admiration of the
 Domesticating “the Queer” 11

straight man’s body (sometimes expressed in litotic terms, in which a negative comment actually

serves to emphasize a positive attribute), and playful hints regarding the allure of homoerotic

desires and behaviors,

Interest and Admiration

The Fab Five express much interest in and commentary about the bodies of the straight

men they aid. In one episode, Carson disrobes their client de jour, Lawson Clark, and then rubs

him down after a tanning session. He admiringly states, “You’re glistening,” and then later tells

his Fab Five buddies that, “I rubbed him down like Seabiscuit. It was great.” Though

commentary of this kind is generally light and playful, the prurient tone is unmistakable,

sometimes blatant. In one episode, Carson says to straight “client” Thomas Kaden, “If at any

time today you want to make out with me, just let me know.” The Rob Munroe episode offers the

most obvious example of Carson’s open interest in a straight guy. Carson makes clear his

(teasing?) interest in Rob throughout that episode through commentary and admiring glances. At

one point, Rob lies between Carson and Kyan on a bed in the Donna Karan store, as Carson

flirts, “Oh, Daddy, keep talking…” Carson’s interest is so overt, that Rob is given a code word,

“zucchini,” to use when he feels uncomfortable. He uses it laughingly on a couple of different

occasions as Carson teases Rob about his attraction for him.

Though Carson is the “usual suspect” when it comes to overt sexual come-ons, the others

do engage in similar behaviors at times, particularly in admiring the straight guys. In these cases,

the straight men are typically depicted as unwilling – and at times unwitting – objects of an

admiring gay gaze. In the opening moments of the Sean Keenan episode, the Fab Five talk at

length about how “hot” Sean is based on the picture of him in their file. Then, when they meet

him in person, Carson opines, “God, you’re hotter than we realized.” Later in the same episode,
 Domesticating “the Queer” 12

Sean is paraded around in parody of the fashion show catwalk in nothing but his tight and rather

revealing underwear. He seems genuinely unaware of his status as the object of the gay gaze as

he walks through the room, but the Fab Five clearly acknowledge his objectified status in their

exchange of looks and other nonverbal behavior in the scene. In a variety of forms then, the Fab

Five transgress the bounds of touching and teasing behaviors by sometimes making their interest

in their straight “clients” clear. Even more challenging to dominant norms are behaviors that hint

at homoeroticism.

Playful Hints at the Homoerotic

Not surprisingly, in the teasing dialogue of Queer Eye, there’s a good deal of sexual

humor. Much of this humor depends upon the use of double entendres. For example, in one

episode as John Williams is playing his bagpipes, Thom remarks, in an obvious and punning

reference to oral sex, “You’re very good at blowing, I have to tell you.” In another episode, when

showing off Michael Coffino in his new underwear, Carson wryly comments, “Everyone likes a

nice basket, even when it’s not Easter.” In another instance of drawing attention to heterosexual

males’ body parts, Carson playfully lifts John’s William’s kilt and observes, with a nod to a

classic scene in American cinema, “It’s like The Seven Year Itch.”7 Indeed, this episode is filled

with a great deal more of such playful banter. The following exchange is an example:

Thom: “Guys like to stuff their meat”

Ted: “They like to skewer a fish, too.”

The first double entendre is one that straights as well as gays can easily apprehend. The second is

more of an in-group joke, as “fish” is a pejorative term, sometimes used affectionately, that some

gays employ in reference to women.

 Domesticating “the Queer” 13

Some moments seem so ripe for sexual innuendo that one cannot fault the Fab Five for

succumbing to the temptation to indulge in such as, for instance, when Ted is teaching Sean

Keenan how to insert butter under the skin of a roaster chicken. When finished with the task,

Sean goes to shake Ted’s hand in order to thank him. Ted remarks that Sean’s hands are all

buttery, giving Carson the “in” to say, “Well now that you’re all lubed up, let’s go to the

bedroom, shall we?” Earlier, when Carson had answered Sean’s cell phone, he put the caller off

by explaining, “He’s with a man now,” at which Sean seems more than slightly chagrined. Later

that same episode, all pretense of innuendo is abandoned when Sean at one point comments to

Carson, “You’re so much fun,” to which “America’s Gay Sweetheart” responds, “Oh Sean, wait

’til we start making out!”

Many of the Fab Five’s hints at the homoerotic, though playful, sometimes prompt a

straight man’s apprehensiveness regarding the goings-on. While driving Andrew Lane to a day

spa, the following exchange occurs:

Andrew: This spa . . . this isn’t like some kind of bathhouse, is it?

Carson: No, for God’s sake. No sexual overtones . . . that’s extra.

Ted: Unless you create them.

Minutes later, Carson leans toward Andrew:

Carson: Just rub [your cheek] up against me… this is for my work, I just need to tell

Kyan . . . just rub up.

Andrew reluctantly rubs his cheek against Carson’s.

Kyan (to Andrew): Ohmigod, you’re gay now! You’re homosexual!

Andrew: Did you put the gay on me?

Carson: I put the gay on you. For twenty-four hours you’re gonna be buying flip-flops at
 Domesticating “the Queer” 14

Jeffrey’s.

Though in this exchange Andrew seems to “play along,” his discomfort is clear in his body

language and tone of voice; he looks genuinely off-balance.

In addition to those teasing and touching behaviors that fall into the dominant categories

we have identified, there are many other examples of both behaviors that further demonstrate

transgressions of heteronormative order. Other examples of teasing commentary often have a

sexual undertone, and may gently (or not so gently) put down the straight man the Fab Five are

there to help or, more generally, straight sexuality. In the ransacking of Andrew Lane’s house,

for instance, the Fab Five happen upon “Snugger fit” condoms, about which they then tease

Andrew mercilessly; Jai says, “Snugger fit . . . or a nice little tight warm grip.” Carson then

comments, “I heard he’s hung like a bee.” These comments serve to draw attention to the male

member of the straight man. Some of the show’s straight “clients” are teased about their sex life,

or in some cases, the lack thereof. One straight man, Ari Vais, has a girlfriend who lives in

London and they point out that he only gets to see her a few times a year, Thom hints at the

possibility that Ari must have to masturbate as a consequence. While exploring Ari’s apartment,

he calls out, “I found some tissues and land lotion by the bed. Told ya.”

Other typical touching practices of the Fab Five include those that would be seen in the

“normal” make-over program, but that take on a different implication in Queer Eye, including

the touching of the body and hair. For instance, at the start of almost every episode, as the Fab

Five first encounter the straight guy, they swarm him, mainly touching his upper torso and hair.

When first meeting Josh Diaz, for instance, all five men touch his hair. Carson and Kyan are

particularly empowered to touch the men in ways that would be seen as transgressive, if it were

not for the fact they are there to “groom” them. Kyan often touches straight men’s faces and hair
 Domesticating “the Queer” 15

while discussing skin care or hair style options. Carson frequently adjusts clothing, coming

dangerously close to the men’s genitalia on many occasions, so much so, that it is sometimes

joked upon by him and y his comrades. For example, in Thomas Kaden episode, Carson, kneels

down in front of Thomas and fusses at his crotch, saying, “. . . and cough.”

Though much touching is associated with the grooming of the straight men, some

instances seem to happen spontaneously, though their transgressiveness is often heightened by

the commentary or teasing provided by the Fab Five. The Bravo Twins episode, for example, is

filled with much of the same sexually charged banter and touching we have noted above.

However, in this episode we learn that the Twins enjoy wrestling. At the beginning of the

episode, they are depicted wrestling each other. Later, Brandon wrestles with Carson, throws him

on a bed, and puts him in a leg lock. Carson is rendered speechless, his head and arm locked in

close proximity to Brandon’s crotch. When released, he fans his face, and comments archly,

“That was fun . . .” Homosocial behavior of the kind described above stops short of overt

homoeroticism. This is in keeping with Sedgwick’s (1985) observation that there is a strictly

observed limit to male bonding in “straight” contexts. Though Queer Eye’s formula affords the

Fab Five liminal license to hint at homoeroticism in their encounters with “straight” men, they

are not permitted to go beyond playful hints. Still, the focus of all this touching, and the

homoerotic interest it reflects, are the straight men. Even as they tease straight men, the Fab Five

continue to place heterosexuals and heterosexuality at the center. And in fact, as we shall see,

queers and any hint of queer sexuality are ritually removed from the heterosexual world by each

episode’s end.
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Inclusion and Exclusion: Spatial Invasions and Retreats

Spatial invasions and retreats also play an important role in the ritual formula of Queer

Eye. As Lacroix and Westerfelhaus (2004) point out, “Each episode of Queer Eye begins with

rapid integration of the Fab Five into a straight man’s life and home.” (p. 6), and “[e]ach episode

of Queer Eye ends with the Fab Five in their Loft, seated in front of a television set and viewing

how their newest made-over straight man acquits himself during the date, party, or social event

for which they prepared him” (p. 8). This penetration of heterosexual space by the Fab Five, and

their subsequent exile from the same, bookend each episode. These bookends ritually emphasize

the provisional nature of the Fab Five’s forays into the heterosexual world, and the fact that they

are temporary trespassers and not permanent fixtures in that world. Indeed, there would be no

need to enter a world to which they already belong, and no requirement to leave. That they must

enter and leave speaks volumes about their place – or more accurately, lack of place – in the

heterosexual world.

The Fab Five rapidly and forcibly invade, rather then gently enter, the lives and homes of

the straight men whom they set out to help. They do not walk, but run, from their SUV into the

men’s homes, and from room to room once there. They are often depicted as trashing the straight

man’s home and the things he owns. They play with food, parade around in clothing culled from

the straight man’s wardrobe. In the Rob Munroe episode, Ted breaks something in the kitchen,

while Kyan damages what appears to be a very expensive African fertility statue. No item or

space in the straight guy’s home is deemed forbidden. They look into closets and under beds.

They examine personal correspondence and porn collections. In the Josh Diaz episode, Kyan

scrutinizes the bathroom with a flashlight and seizes upon a bottle in Josh’s medicine cabinet,

yelling, “I’ve got pubes on the baby oil!” Clearly, they invade privacy as well as space. This
 Domesticating “the Queer” 17

transgressive rupture ritually emphasizes the potential for disruption of the heteronormative

order attending any incursion of gays into straight spaces – cultural and physical. Like the

teasing and touching described above, the Fab Five’s spatial transgressions are tolerated within

the context of the show’s ritual of rebellion because of the helpful purpose informing their

incursions and the fact that the Fab Five’s liminal status ensures that their presence is temporary,

Indeed, each episode of Queer Eye ends with the Fab Five comfortably ensconced in their

Loft, physically separated from the straight man whose life and home they had invaded. Nothing

illustrates this physical and social separation better than the moment in the Bravo Twins’ episode

where the Twins read a poem dedicated to the Fab Five which extols the beneficial influence of

the Fab Five upon their lives and the bonds they have formed with them. At the conclusion of

this reading, which is mediated via video, the Twins turn to the camera and say, “We love you

guys!” The Fab Five, now ritually and physically removed from the straight world, raise their

beers to the video image and salute the Twins from the remoteness of their Loft. Queers and

queer sexuality are safely contained.

Privileging “the Straight”

This physical and social separation sadly symbolizes the continued separation of queers

from the center of the social mainstream. Queer Eye’s ritual formula reinforces the

heteronormative order that perpetuates this separation by privileging heterosexuals and their

relationships. While the Fab Five are safely – albeit comfortably – contained in their Loft, the

show’s straight men purge themselves of any homoerotic contamination they might have

acquired from cavorting with the Fab Five. Typically, this is accomplished through a dinner date

or some other obviously and traditionally heterosexual encounter. In the Andrew Lane episode,

for instance, the Fab Five’s earlier playfulness with the straight man is replaced at show’s end
 Domesticating “the Queer” 18

with a demonstration of intense interest in Andrew’s girlfriend and the success of his date, for

which they congratulate themselves:

Kyan: Can I just say how lucky he is to have her?

Carson: Thank you…and us…

Kyan: And us, especially us…

Lucky to have her indeed! A common motif of Queer Eye are exclamations by the Fab Five

regarding how cute/pretty/hot the girlfriend/fiancée/wife is, thus reaffirming the centrality of

heterosexual desire.

Many of the Fab Five’s projects are undertaken in order to prevent potential or repair

actual damage to straight relationships. Straight men and their living spaces are revamped so that

their girlfriends and wives will be happy and stay with them, thus preserving and protecting the

heteronormative order. This privileging of straight relationships is underscored in the Thomas

Kaden episode, in which Carson finds a pair of Tom’s girlfriend’s lace underwear in Thomas’

house. Carson brings the panties into the SUV, hangs them on the rearview mirror as they leave

for Tom’s makeover and shopping expedition, and remarks that he is hanging the panties there

“just so we know why we’re working so hard.” The importance of heterosexual relationships is

paramount. Indeed, in the John Williams episode, while riding in the Fab Five’s SUV, Ted

states:

Just so you know, Thom and I and the rest of the guys, we are in favor of straight

marriage. Straight marriage is for the good of everybody. It really is. Without straight

marriage, there would be no gay people.

Interestingly – and pointedly – there is no similar support expressed for gay marriage, or for any

other queer living arrangements. And references to any relationship the members of the Fab Five
 Domesticating “the Queer” 19

might have with significant same-sex others, if such relationships exist, are conspicuous by their

absence. Even regular viewers of the series know very little about the Fab Five’s private lives or

their romantic/sexual partners. There are no casual references to such, no wallet photographs of

partners that the Fab Five share with each other or their straight “clients.” This silence regarding

gay relationships is markedly different from the way Queer Eye highlights and celebrates

heterosexual relationships.

Domesticating “the Queer”

This silence is not surprising. Historically, gays have been excluded from open

participation in America’s mainstream culture. By the end of each episode of Queer Eye, the Fab

Five are excluded – literally and symbolically – from the heterosexual world they had intruded

upon, though by invitation, and are reduced to acting as voyeurs who may watch but not

participate in the heterosexual world they have helped to heal. Queer Eye elevates the Fab Five

even as it separates them from the heterosexual mainstream. In this respect, the show is yet

another example of the dehumanizing rhetoric of deification identified by Brookey and

Westerfelhaus (2002) in their analysis of To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything! Julie Newmar.

Like that film’s gay protagonists, the Fab Five are depicted in deified terms. They are wittier,

smarter, and have more fashion and grooming savvy than the straight men whose problems they

solve. This dynamic is reminiscent of the filmic and literary construct of the “Noble Savage,”

whose strength and bravery are superior to those of his “masters,” but who still serves and

sacrifices for them, and in the end, supports a social order that serves the interests of his

oppressors rather than himself. Indeed, like the Noble Savage the Fab Five are superior to the

heterosexuals whom they serve and whose social order they support. And, as is the case with To

Wong Foo’s drag queen trio, who at film’s end gaze down upon the magic they have wrought
 Domesticating “the Queer” 20

from the safe (from a heterosexist perspective) distance of a second story balcony, the Fab Five

are removed from the heterosexual order the show affirms and relegated to viewing the results of

their work from the physical and symbolic exile of the Loft. And like To Wong Foo’s drag queen

trio, who are dehumanized even as they are deified, the Fab Five are depicted as being

impossibly perfect.

A particularly troubling feature of this impossible perfection is the way that the Fab

Five’s sexuality is tamed. Indeed, though they are allowed to express sexual desire, and do so

quite often and very vocally, such expressions are regarded as jokes and are not to be taken

seriously. The straight men are kept safe from the supposed danger posed to them and to the

heteronormative order by homoerotic sexual encounters. Indeed, though the Fab Five, especially

Carson, engage in a great deal flirtatious banter and touching during the course of most episodes,

no serious sexual overture is ventured. For all their sexual teasing, the Fab Five are depicted as

being rather puritanical. They may verbalize sexual desire but not physically consummate it.

Thus, they are not permitted the same sexual license accorded the series’ heterosexuals, who are

obviously sexually active given the presence in their homes of spent condoms and sexual

lubricants. This puritanical depiction of the Fab Five is reminiscent of the way that To Wong

Foo’s drag queens are represented. Their supposed sexual purity is summed up in an observation

made by Carol Ann, one of the townswomen helped by the film’s drag queen heroines, who tells

one of the queens, Vida, “I don’t think of you as a man and I don’t think of you as a woman. I

think of you as an angel.” This statement, as Brookey and Westerfelhaus (2002) note, renders

Vida a deified, dehumanized, desexualized entity. As described above, the Fab Five are also

deified and desexualized. According to Shugart (2001), the tendency of popular culture media to

dismiss queer sexuality by rendering it invisible serves to “enrich and strengthen specifically
 Domesticating “the Queer” 21

heteronormative social and political sensibilities” (p. 70; see also Brookey & Westerfelhaus,

2001; Dow, 2001; Fejes & Petrich, 1993; Gross, 2001; Sullivan, 2003; Walters, 2001). As a

ritual of rebellion, Queer Eye allows for some violations against and complaints regarding the

heteronormative order. In the end, though, Queer Eye domesticates – rather than emancipates –

its gay protagonists by controlling their access to straight spaces and controlling their sexual

impulses while they are they there. In doing so, the series reassures the social mainstream by

rendering the heteronormative socio-sexual order safe from possible queer contamination. We

suspect that this reassurance is one reason for the show’s popularity.

Conclusion

Though we have been quite critical in our examination of Queer Eye, we must confess

that we do enjoy viewing the show. And given the series’ popularity, we are not alone in

deriving pleasure from it. That Queer Eye is both pleasurable and popular makes it all the more

important that queer critics engage and interrogate this popular media text. Our analysis points

out several areas deserving of such scrutiny. As a mediated ritual of rebellion, Queer Eye seems

to challenge the heteronormative socio-sexual order. And in some ways it does. The inclusion of

five openly gay men as heroes – of a sort – in prime time show is certainly cause for celebration.

There is also cause for concern. The Fab Five’s complaints about and critiques of the messy

living quarters, slovenly dress, careless grooming, and the hairy backs of straight men deal with

superficial issues that do not address in any serious way the foundations of the heteronormative

order. This is the genius of rituals of rebellion. They deflect attention away from issues of real

importance to participants and to the dominant order. Only rarely, as for example Thom’s

plaintive inquiry as to why he lacks a partner when a less than perfectly dressed Rob Monroe has

one, does Queer Eye question the naturalness of the heteronormative order in any meaningful
 Domesticating “the Queer” 22

way. (Thom laments, “How is it possible that he wears this [ratty] sweatshirt and he’s in a

relationship, and I wear these fabulous clothes and I’m single?”)

As we have pointed out, the ritual formula of Queer Eye elevates straight men and their

heterosexual relationships while domesticating the show’s queer protagonists. Indeed, though the

Fab Five are the show’s stars, it is the straight men and their fashion, grooming, organizational,

and relational crises that are the center of interest. Straight bodies, and not queer, are the focus of

appreciative comments, admiring gazes, tactile attention, and sexual desire. In spite of fashion

faux pas and grooming inadequacies, straight men are framed as the obvious – because natural

and normal – object of sexual desire on the part of the straight women with whom they are

involved and the gay men who have come to help them. When it comes to the latter, sexual

interest is not reciprocated. This positioning illustrates how Queer Eye, as an example of

heteronormative strategic rhetoric, unquestioningly places heterosexuals in general, and straight

men in particular, at the cultural, social, and sexual center of our society.

That the Five Fab are physically removed from the straight world at the end of each

episode of Queer Eye and contained within their Loft, and the fact that they behave themselves

sexually (from a heteronormative perspective) during their incursions into straight spaces,

illustrates the power of heteronormative strategic rhetoric to tame queer transgressions. Indeed,

the Fab Five’s unwitting (we would hope) complicity in their own domestication indicates the

extent to which the heteronormative order has succeeded in colonizing our culture – and

ourselves.8 This same colonization is evident in the show’s unquestioning acceptance – and

reaffirmation – of heteronormatively defined sexual categories and the sharply defined

boundaries that separate such. Reified representations of this kind exercise a powerful influence
 Domesticating “the Queer” 23

because they simplify what is actually quite complex. As Dyer (2002) observes, in writing about

media representations of heterosexuals:

As always with images and representation, reality is more complex and fluctuating. The

actual practice of heterosexuality must to some extent outstrip the cultural models

available to it. Yet it would absurd to assume that those models are of no account

whatsoever.” (p. 121)

It is important to engage critically representations of queer and straight sexuality, as we have

done in our analysis of Queer Eye, and in doing so to chart the contours of the subtle and almost

invisible strategic rhetoric which supports and draws support from such representations. We

recognize that given the fluid nature of both culture and of cultural constructions of human

sexuality, this charting is always preliminary, never complete, and constantly in need of revision.

It is, thus, an ongoing critical project, one that should continue until that unlikely but hoped for

time when sexual difference no longer makes a social difference.

 Domesticating “the Queer” 24

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 Domesticating “the Queer” 28

Endnotes
1
A questionnaire developed by Rochlin (2003) illustrates the taken-for-grantedness of heteronormative bias.
2
At the time of this writing, Queer Eye was in the midst of its second season. Though both authors are fans of the
program and regularly viewed episodes from both the first and second seasons, we have chosen to focus our analysis
here on several representative episodes that illustrate themes relevant to our analysis. These episodes feature: David
and Brandon Bravo (the Bravo Twins), Lawson Clark, Michael Coffino, Josh Diaz, Thomas Kaden, Sean Keenan,
Andrew Lane, Rob Munroe, Ari Vais, John Williams.
3
Gluckman (1963) offers as examples of such rituals agricultural rites in which Zulu women were permitted to
assume a temporary dominance – which, as Morris (1987) notes, “contrasted markedly with the norms of these
patriarchal people” (p. 249), and the Incwala ceremony of the Swazi, during which songs are sung that openly mock
the king.
4
We are aware that the term “positive” with respect to representation of queers and queer sexuality is troublesome.
In using it in this context, we simply mean that the Fab Five are not depicted as being sexual prey or predator, as
sick or as criminal; and while funny, they are not mere comedic relief.
5
Included among the gay stereotypes the show perpetuates: the cutting campy humor, the flamboyant behavior, the
contention that gay men possess greater grooming and fashion sense than straight men, and the somewhat effeminate
way that the Fab Five carry themselves (especially Carson, who often comes across as a caricature of the worst gay
stereotypes).
6
Though we find such categories as straight and heterosexual problematic, we use the term straight in this study in
reference to those men included in episodes of Queer Eye who self-identify as such.
7
The scene is, of course, the one in which Marilyn Monroe steps on a air vent, and her skirt blows up and out in a
provocative fashion.
8
We are, of course, indebted to Said’s (1978) terminology in theorizing cultural colonization.