Honestly, work.
It was a cold, dreary winter night; I had just got home from a night out in Heaven (yes it was a lot of spiced rum and coke before you ask), then scrolled past an IG post where Sarah Michelle Gellar was pondering why gay guys called her “mother”. If gay men call you “mother”, trust and believe you have their whole heart.
For so long, the unique friendship and relationship between women and gay men have been a subject of pop culture fascination. And an object of all desires. Books, movies and TV series have seemingly portrayed this perfect image of a one-of-a-kind platonic relationship between women and gay men. The gay bestie kind – even though sometimes not only has it not reflected the nature of that relationship in the most positive way but it has also perpetuated the stereotypes of queer relationships; however, that might be a topic for another time. But put that aside, why do women and gay men’s relationships work so well? We may not be fond of algebra classes, but this relationship math problem needs investigating.
That relationship seems to evolve. Some women have been “mothering” more than others; some earn universal respect and recognition more than others; villainous, murderous and sociopathic women have become gay icons more than most.
I watched TAR the other week. Every time Lydia Tar does something unhinged or sociopathic, I think I can speak for all of her gays, honestly, work. I wrote about the latest gay supreme that is M3GAN. A murderous, campy, robotic doll becoming a gay icon just makes sense. But this natural worship and connection seem to have been around since the beginning of time. Who could forget Killing Eve’s Villanelle, How to Get Away with Murder’s Annalise Keating, Gone Girl’s Amy or Sleeping Beauty’s Maleficent? When masculinity is in constant crisis (has it ever not?), there’s something about confident, powerful and multidimensional women who “takes agency in their own lives”. There’s something about women who kill (it) that’s so attractive – specifically to gay men – that they can’t afford to be ignored.
It takes digging into our psyche and the psyche of pop culture to understand this proposition.
The gay sensibility
You know the universe works in a very mysterious way. When I was about to put pen to paper, I came across this TiKToker who discusses the idea of tapping into a “gay way of being or seeing in the world” and how “gay culture is often more about work that is around gay sensibility”. Perhaps I am high vibrational so the universe listens – or maybe TikTok algorithm is watching over us all. Indeed, the author of “How To Be Gay” David Halperin touches on how gay men develop “a conscious identity, a common culture, a particular outlook on the world, a shared sense of self”, and he further points out that gay male culture features “adoration of glamour, caricature of women and obsession with the figure of the mother.” In books, movies, TV series and general pop culture, the image of “sociopathic” or “villainous” women – or women in general – has been coincidentally crafted to capture gay men’s attention. The way they look in a blazer – see Blake Lively in “A Simple Flavor”, the way they move – see Lydia Tar insisting she’s “Petra’s father”, the way they take control of the narrative – see Amy Dunne. The way “she was the mother I’ve never had.” It’s empowering when catering to the queer gaze – obviously the male gaze is so 2019.
The campy persona
Gay men are obsessed with two things: a song from a female artist that charts 286th on Billboard Hot 100 and an obsession with “serving”. Serving can mean different things for different people, but for queer people, the trope is campy. A murderous doll dancing to TikTok? Camp. Lisa Barlow’s performance of “Away in a Manger”? Camp. Lana Del Rey putting only one billboard up to promote her new album, in her ex-boyfriend’s hometown? Camp. It’s a subtle way of expressing or representing femininity or an over-the-top attitude when gay men cannot fully express themselves. Some people might argue it’s a coping or defense mechanism. More often than not, queer people spend their childhood dealing with being bullied, teased and shamed. Being able to use humour or being over-the-top shields us and imaginatively takes away that struggle. “Gayness”, according to David Halperin, “is not a state or condition”, but “a mode of perception, an attitude, an ethos”. When pervasive social pariahs and structures remain in place to restrict queer men from expressing themselves, camp takes its place. Have you seen some killer outfits (no pun intended!) from Killing Eve’s Villanelle? She serves in that Gucci outfit. Gay panic(!) at the disco – obsessed is an understatement.
The desire to be recognised
“We dress a certain way, we walk a certain way
We talk a certain way, we-we paint a certain way
We-we make love a certain way, you know
All of these things we do in a different
Unique, specific way that is personally ours”
Mother has spoken – Shakespeare might have invented over 1,700 words but he could never scribble universal gay literature like that. Gay men are obsessed with the way that we look, the way that we’re presenting ourselves, with how we categorise ourselves – bear, twinks, twunks, jocks to name a few. We have this desire to be recognised by society. The way that gay men and straight women are drawn to each other might not be too much of a conundrum. Indeed, research shows that “women interact more comfortably and intimately with gay men—but not straight men—after learning their sexual orientation”. Speak of the devil, speaking of heterosexual men, does it trace back to them? My theory is the current male-dominated system means that both straight women and gay men are “second” to white men – one group is being made to feel uncomfortable in such a power dynamic with heterosexual men, one group is being made to feel lesser of a man, but both are trying to go over and beyond an average heterosexual man to prove their worth, intelligence and to earn their place in this current society. That bond, people, is special. And lethal women always find their own way. They are on top of their fields and take no prisoners in their approach – such representations are empowering and self-assertive.
We are taught and designed to think from a young age that somehow queerness is deviant. When we see such powerful and enigmatic women represented in a way that we strongly desire, we grasp it with no hesitancy. I, of course, “don’t believe in the glorification of murder” but “do believe in the empowerment of women”. Such representation, like queerness, “has become a way to escape the tyranny of the liberal, bourgeois boredom of family life”. But yes, if you only have time for a picture and 11 characters, this sums it up nicely.
