Simon Doonan: Drag: The Complete Story (2019) [a]
Photo by Greg Endries and posted on simondoonan.com
I.
I don't have much to say about women who like to cross-dress as men (drag kings).
It's not that butch drag doesn't deserve analysis, it's just that the topic doesn't particularly excite my interest and Doonan irritates me in this chapter with his lazy politics of empowerment (which I critiqued in part one of this post):
"Butching it up, aping the style of men and making it their own, has put many women in the driver's seat and improved their lives." (70) [b]
It seems that hyper-femininity only empowers when you're a man and that women who are happy wearing pastel twinsets with matching skirts are regressive and reinforcing the gender binary. For Doonan, a woman in trousers who has released her inner butch feels powerful, looks stylish, and can earn big bucks.
And, best of all, she has "banished the ditsy ruffled femininity" (75) that he finds so objectionable.
Doonan's closing section to chapter 3 - 'Fey is the new butch' - argues that for many young people in this non-binary age of gender fluidity, "dressing with heavy-handed masculinity" and "aping the patriarchy (82) does not appeal.
They want a new (non-toxic) look connected to their trans identity; more nuanced - which, I suppose, is fair enough, although, in my view, identity remains the problem (can't you see) and self-expression remains far less exciting (for me as a Deleuzian) than becoming-imperceptible.
II.
I also don't have much to say about black drag queens; although again, it's more because I feel this is outside my area of experience, knowledge and real interest [c], not because I believe it's undeserving of critical commentary, or is marginal to the world of drag.
Doonan, however, seems knowledgeable of and fascinated by the black drag queen as "an enduring icon" (85) and source of inspiration. One almost worries, in fact, that his admiration tips over into racial fetishism at times:
"She generously and magnanimously enriches the culture [...] and we must all bow down before her.
The Medusan ferocity that characterizes glamour drag queens is amplified in the black drag queen, and augmented with unique black irony and wit. The black drag queen is both comedic and glamorous. The black drag queen is fierce." (85)
I can, I suppose, see the appeal - but this goes a bit too far, I think.
Doonan is, one suspects, over-egging the pudding in the attempt to firstly compensate for his white privilege and, secondly, assuage his white guilt. Talented black artists and performers have obviously made a vital contribution to contemporary popular culture (as have Jewish artists and performers), but whether we all need to fall down on our knees and kiss their arses in eternal "#gratitude" (85) is debatable.
Also, I'm less than convinced that "creativity and originality is a function of marginal status" (86) and that individuals "with marginal status have always contributed disproportionately to the culture" (86). Perhaps. But I'd be a bit more convinced if Doonan actually offered some evidence to back up his claims. As it is, I see such thinking as, at best, romantic and, at worst, indicative of slave morality.
Ultimately, some black drag queens are fabulous - and some are not. To say, as Doonan does, that all of them possess "that mystical creative charisma" (88) is just a form of positive stereotyping or benevolent prejudice.
III.
Chapter 5 is on drag history - or herstory as Doonan insists on writing, thereby referencing a feminist pun and common etymological misunderstanding. It is, apparently, a brutal, bizarre and cautionary tale, full of "madness and excess" (103). So sounds interesting ...
The Ancient Egyptians loved a bit of androgynous glamour and the Greeks and Romans were also keen on drag and traces of transvestism are woven throughout ancient mythology and history. In fact, as Camille Paglia notes, drag is a global phenomenon.
Fast-forwarding to modern Europe (and no one can race through world history faster than Doonan) ...
"The Renaissance was a groovy, swinging period of creative expression and new ideas. Despite the cultural flowering, the Christian Church maintained an unforgiving position regarding the [...] evils of cross-dressing." (114)
Fortunately, however, drag continued to flourish - seeking refuge in the theatre, where there's always been a steady supply of fresh-faced young men eager to don frocks and play the female roles:
"With a bit of padding and extra rouge, a 16-year-old lad might give a convincing portrayal of a 26-year-old woman at the height of her erotic powers." (116)
Shakespeare perhaps pushes drag to its meta-most point in As You Like It, a play in which a male actor dresses as a woman, who dresses as a man, who dresses as a woman. Unfortunately, Shakespeare died in 1616, "thereby missing the dawn of the nelliest period in history: the Baroque" (119) [d].
That's a fun description of the period between 1600-1750, but I can't vouch for its historical accuracy. Indeed, it might be said that the Baroque was not inherently effeminate, but rather characterized by dramatic and ornate styles designed to project masculine power, wealth, and status.
While male fashion included elements such as wigs, high heels, and ribbons, these were viewed as lavish, not effeminate. In contrast, the subsequent Rococo period was deemed to be feminine and delicate; light and airy with lots of soft pastel colours and the use of natural forms such as shells and flora in art, interior design, and fashion.
The point is: when reading history, one must be careful not to project one's own values and desires into the past and avoid interpreting events from a perspective shaped by the present. The past is not "a giant gender-inclusive dressing-up box, just waiting to be plundered" (131), no matter what drag performers may choose to believe [e].
Moving on, this note by Doonan caught my eye:
"There was nothing unisex about the eighteenth-century Brits. Men's attire was butch and militaristic. Women's fashions were ornate and romantic in the extreme. The gendered nature of clothing added massively to the frisson generated by cross-dressing ..." (123)
If that's the case - and I think it is the case - then one might ask what's so desirable about dissolving the male/female binary and celebrating gender neutrality; hasn't Doonan just provided a thrilling argument not only for maintaining sexual distance but for widening the gulf? Uni-anything is always boring.
Doonan closes chapter 5 by zooming into the modern (and postmodern) world, beginning in the so-called Mauve Decade of the 1890s when "drag becomes a thing, with a name and a reputation to uphold" (131) [f] and ending up in the present; "an era of relative tolerance where the acceptance and visibility of drag and trans have surged dramatically" (133).
In a paragraph mixing cultural pessimism with political optimism, he writes:
"Masculinity is in retreat and gender nonconformity is on the march. Will it last? Some scholars point out that drag and trans have surged in late-stage civilizations [...] and that this freewheeling exploration of identity was immediately followed by sharp decline and total eclipse. Hopefully the prominence of drag and trans in our society is not an augur of doom, but rather a sign of the arrival of a progressive utopia that will last for eternity." (133)
If I were Doonan, I'd keep more than my fingers crossed ...
IV.
Comedy drag, says Doonan, is an enduring showbiz staple that continues to amuse; everyone loves a pantomime dame - apart from those, like me, who don't find Christopher Biggins particularly amusing, either in or out of drag [g].
For Doonan, the dame might be a loveable figure, but, to my mind, she often represents the most banal version of the
craft. Whilst glamour drag at least hints at something dangerous and transformative, the comedy drag of the pantomime variety feels too much like a cheap caricature; a way of
neutralising the seductive threat of the feminine by turning it into an end of the pier joke. It's drag devoid of anything Medusan.
In fact, Doonan admits as much:
"Comedy drag sprang from a desire to disarm the nightmarish female archetypes of Victorian England [...] Strict governesses, relentless nags, ruler-wielding schoolteachers and cruel stepmothers [...]" (140)
Reading this, one might almost think there was something a little misogynistic about it [h], though Doonan says that such drag performance has "obvious psycho-therapeutic benefits" (140) (I'm not quite sure for whom).
Whilst reading between the lines, one suspects Doonan also sees a radical political element to this genre of drag; that it represents an attack on Queen Victoria - "the ultimate disapproving matriarch [... who] unwittingly fuelled the bawdy drag-strewn irreverence of Victorian music halls" (140) - something that really wasn't the case.
For while true that 19th-century British music halls and pantomimes frequently featured
drag queens and female impersonators - and whilst satirical commentary
was often part of the act - there is no evidence that Queen Victoria was
a direct or frequent target of mockery.
Indeed, direct mockery of the monarch was heavily
restricted by censorship laws and tempered by the popularity of
the Queen amongst her subjects. Any ridicule of the rich and powerful
was aimed at the swells, toffs, and big nobs in society - not Her Majesty [i].
Moving on, Doonan has some interesting things to say about the boom in comedy drag post-Second World War:
"The returning troops brought home their enthusiasm for drag and somehow infected the entire population. [...] It is no exaggeration to say that, once the telly started to appear in British living rooms, we Brits began to drown in drag." (147)
He and his best pal loved dressing up in drag and watching comics on the TV dress up in drag. But I guess one has to be that way inclined and, as indicated in a note below - [g] - as a child I was never particularly taken with drag.
Thus, for example, whilst it's true that Benny Hill would perform in drag "in order to generate cheeky-but-family-friendly primetime laughs" (147), he did not invent one single, famous drag character that defined him and I much preferred watching Hill as Fred Scuttle or Ernie the milkman to seeing him in drag.
Things changed in the late '60s, when "gay culture came screaming out of the shadows, with drag following close on its heels" (148). As gay bars, pubs and clubs proliferated, "so did the number of performing drag queens" (148).
But they weren't so family-friendly; "this new wave of drag queens was angry, loud, proud and foul-mouthed" (148) - but also very funny, says Doonan: "The rude and fabulous creativity and comedic talent that gushed forth during this period of new-found freedom is remarkable." (148)
Drag, says Doonan, became "more gay, and more postmodern" (149); a sentence that makes smile and which one feels tempted to interrogate, but which I'll pass over due to space restrictions, though one would like to know what Doonan means by the latter term, which he uses on several occasions in his book. I guess he simply means comedy drag became "hipper and more self-aware" (150), for constructing as he is a complete story of drag, I doubt he's overly incredulous towards metanarratives.
And today?
"Today, as more and more trans comedians and entertainers take the stage, the face of comedy drag is changing. The bawdy raging postmodern campy humour of pub, club and disco is morphing into something more subtle and emotionally real." (158)
I think Doonan is saying that drag has gone woke and is now designed for a new "gender-inclusive generation" (158) who respond less to cruelty and irony and more to vulnerability and victimhood; less Lily Savage and more Justin Vivian Bond, whose act is "infused with a subtle melancholic humour" (159) and promotes values of care, community, and kindness.
The world, says Doonan, "has become a kinder, gentler place" (159) - I have to say, I haven't noticed that here on Harold Hill - and drag queens are spreading a message of "inclusivity, creativity and empowerment" (160).
Unless you happen to be a straight white male, which for Doonan equates with being overbearing, treacherous and Trumpian. Out with toxic masculinity and in with "suave gay metrosexual identity" (160). Who's subscribing to simplistic binary opposition now, Simon?
Notes
[a] Page references given in this (in round brackets) refer to the concise paperback edition of this work, published by Laurence King, in 2024.
[b] Surely this is really only true of a few women working in the arts and showbiz ...? I'm not sure that the most successful approach for women in other (traditionally male) environments has been to masquerade as one of the boys - and don't see why they should have to do so just to prove themselves and gain respect.
[c] Having said that, I did write a post earlier this year on voguing (27 Jan 2026) - click here - though it was essentially about Malcolm McLaren and Madonna, rather than the black dancers and drag queens who created the scene.
[d] For those who may be unfamiliar with the term, nelly is a slang word used to describe an overtly effeminate man (not necessarily but more often than not homosexual), who adopts stereotypical feminine behaviours, mannerisms, or interests. Whilst historically used negatively in the straight world, it is sometimes used as an affectionate label within the queer community (as here by Doonan).
[e] Doonan writes: "But history is not all thigh-slapping pastiche and nostalgia. To study the arc of civilization is to be drenched in blood, madness and brutality. Drag and trans, always vulnerabe to shifts in politics, have often felt the cat-o'-nine-tails." (133)
[f] Actually, the first recorded use of the term drag in its modern sense was in 1870. It is believed to have originated in theatre slang; male performers playing female roles wore long skirts that would literally trail or drag on the floor.
[g] Come to think of it, I've never really been fond of drag artists. As a child, I grew up watching Danny La Rue on TV, but never found him remotely entertaining and hated his sentimental theme song, 'On Mother Kelley's Doorstep' (a popular music hall number from the 1920s). I also declined all offers to attend a pantomime at Christmas.
Having said that, I did like Dick Emery's Mandy (Ooh! You are awful ...) and one of my favourite scenes in any of the Carry On films is in Carry On Constable (1960), in which Kenneth Williams and Charles Hawtrey drag up as Ethel and Agatha. I discuss this scene in a post dated 9 April 2022, titled 'Carry On Cross Dressing': click here.
[h] The question of whether drag is misogynistic is a subject of intense debate. Critics argue it creates a grotesque caricature of women, while proponents view it as a celebration of femininity and a subversion of rigid gender norms.
It's certainly worth considering if the empowerment of the performers that Doonan celebrates is based upon the mocking exploitation of actual women. Worth recalling too how blackface used to be hugely popular and seen as just a harmless bit of fun.
Readers interested (and perhaps undecided) on this issue might like to see two letters published in The Guardian (7 April 2024); one arguing that drag is a sexist caricature, the other that it's a fascinating and fabulous art form: click here.
[i] Readers might also note that there remains a rumour circulating in certain drag circles that one artist was so popular that Victoria reportedly attended a show in disguise to find out what all the fuss was about. This is most likely an urban legend, but it nevertheless casts further doubt on Doonan's claim that the Queen was completely humourless and/or a target of public ridicule.
Part one of this post - on glamour drag and art drag - can be accessed by clicking here.
