Drag often brings to mind the image of men – gay men – who transform themselves, for the duration of a performance, into an exaggerated, often ironic representation of a woman, known as drag queens. They use make-up to narrow their noses and raise their eyebrows, creating the illusion of larger eyes. They pad their hips to accentuate  a ‘feminine’ figure and stick a cheap, exuberant wig bought on AliExpress – and longer than the average woman’s hair – to their head. Thus made-up and transformed, they assume a persona, ready to engage in a lip-sync performance.

But what about drag kings, the less visible counterpart of this gay subculture? Where are the lesbians or trans people who transform into a man and perform masculinity for a show? In what follows, I explore the difference between performances of femininity and masculinity in drag as well as the practice of kinging. I also reflect on the future of gender and drag.

Masculinity as an invisible performance

Judging by the average number of hours a woman spends in the bathroom to get ready for a night out by comparison with a man, we might think that the performance of femininity demands more than that of masculinity. When I go shopping with my trans-masculine partner Charlie, he is often disappointed by the clothes found in the men’s department at the major chains: with neutral colours and boring models, they are playing it safe. In contrast, the women’s department offers clothes with various fabrics, colors, details, and bold cuts. Could this suggest that the performance of femininity in Western society is more interesting or at least more extroverted than that of masculinity?

Philosopher and queer theorist Jack Halberstam sheds some light on this issue. In his book Female Masculinities, he argues that there is indeed a difference between the performance of femininity and masculinity, both inside and outside drag. Dominant masculinity – heterosexual, white, able-bodied masculinity – and the corresponding male body are presented in Western culture as ‘natural’, ‘real’, something that ‘just is’, Halberstam claims. It seems that men’s masculinity is an inherent part of their being rather than something they actively create or perform. Women’s femininity, on the other hand, is more likely to be perceived as fabricated or artificial. Halberstam concludes that, contrary to femininity, normative masculinity is seen as ‘non-performative’ in this society.

In other words, Halberstam agrees with Judith Butler when they write in their iconic work Gender Trouble that gender is performative; gender has no essence; gender is not a being, it is a doing. But Halberstam nuances this, positing that we only see femininity as a performance and therefore as performative, not masculinity: the performance of masculinity is invisible.

This thesis seems to hold true: women are expected to diet all their lives, while men are punished socially if they show they are doing so; women are expected to put more effort into looking beautiful than men while a no-nonsense attitude is praised in advertising for men. Before I started going to the gym, I often observed men with bulging biceps and muscular legs walking down the street or sunbathing in the park. I assumed that they were muscular simply because they were men – a confirmation of this idea of ‘natural, non-performing masculinity’. However, now that I lift dumbbells and hang weights on the barbell at the gym myself, I’ve come to understand that muscles are not simply a given, even for men. Testosterone plays a role in creating muscle tissue, but you have to do something for it yourself, to put it in Butler’s words.

“Before I started going to the gym, I often observed men with bulging biceps and muscular legs walking down the street or sunbathing in the park.
I assumed that they were muscular simply because they were men.”

The perception of masculinity as non-performative and femininity as performative also appears in drag practices. This difference is visible in the campy aesthetics of drag queens and its absence in drag kings. Camp refers to an aesthetic style and sensibility that finds something appealing on account of its bad taste and ironic value. It celebrates the artificial, the exaggerated, the extravagant. Campy aesthetics do contain elements of kitsch, but they do not quite coincide with them. Within the context of gender and drag,  camp is always about femininity, not masculinity, argues Halberstam. Precisely because camp in drag alludes to an exaggerated and parodic performance of gender in society. Masculinity, which here manifests itself as non-performative or non-performed, consequently cannot be represented by drag kings as campy or exaggerated either. Furthermore, camp was originally related to gays and gay culture, and therefore also found among drag queens. A drag king can only show a certain degree of camp if it incorporates certain presentations of femininity in its performance – a glitter beard, for instance.

But what, then, are the performances of drag kings? What camp is to drag queens, kinging is to drag kings: a term Halberstam introduces and defines as ‘drag humour associated with masculinity’.

Kinging and the tools of the drag king

Performances of gender, masculinity and femininity are primarily produced with and through a body. A body that to some extent is a given, a biological artefact; a body that interacts with other bodies and that is modified, dressed, deformed. How do drag kings construct that body? What tools do they use to perform masculinity and the male body that goes with it?

Make-up is a first tool. Cheekbones are accentuated using contouring, cheeks are narrowed by being shadowed, eyebrows are generally thickened, and facial hair is created using make-up applied with skilful precision – for example, using eyeliner to draw a long horseshoe moustache or a neat goatee.

Soft, ‘typically feminine’ facial features give way to sharper, sometimes stricter and mostly tighter traits. But the use of make-up does not stop there for kings. Muscles are also given shape by make-up – think of a tight six-pack of abs on the stomach or biceps on the arms.

Butchpm & Sinki © Oriana Ikomo

A second tool drag kings can use is binding: wrapping the chest to make it flatter and thus more masculine. This can be done by using a binder, a piece of compression clothing, a crop top or tank top that flattens the chest. As you can imagine, this can be quite uncomfortable. The saying ‘You have to suffer in order to be beautiful’ is not exclusive to those who express femininity. The classic sports bra, which aims to hold the breasts as close to the body as possible during intense physical effort, can also serve this purpose and is recommended for those who want a bit more comfort. Another way to flatten the chest is to use kinetic tape. A packer can serve as an alternative to the penis and the bulge in the trousers – a stuffed sock can serve as a DIY solution.

Drag kings can also use body language to bring their character to life: broadening their shoulders, putting on a tough or angry look, taking big strides, speaking in a deeper voice or flirting with lesbians in the audience.

“Drag is expressed by a body that to some extent is a given, a biological artefact; a body that interacts with other bodies and is modified, dressed, deformed.”

Finally, there is the outfit. Clothing plays an essential role. Drag, by the way, falls under the umbrella term ‘cross-dressing’. I have noticed that white tank tops with jeans are common among drag kings, sometimes worn with a gold chain around the neck. This style is reminiscent of the plumber or skater-boy look, which I observed during a drag king performance at a lesbian pride party in Berlin. The three-piece suit with a hat and bow tie is also a frequent choice. These more traditional types of men or boys in the performances of drag kings closely resemble and sometimes even coincide with butches – lesbians or non-binary people who embody certain forms of masculinity. The line between the onstage and offstage reality can be incredibly thin, sometimes even non-existent, allowing the performance to be an opportunity to further explore gender expression offstage.

One concrete character that often surfaces among drag kings is Justin Bieber – not the pumped-up, tattooed, adult version of the pop star, but the version that emerged during his breakthrough sometime around 2010. Zack, the drag persona of Brussels dancer Justine Heizen, recently performed this character at an event by Brussels drag king collective La Barakakings. Zack strutted on stage looking cool in his white Nikes with white jeans and a bright purple hoodie. And of course with the iconic wings haircut and a cap backwards on his head the same purple as the hoodie. A nostalgic moment for people of my generation, who were introduced to this version of Bieber in their teens, and perhaps a representation that implies some camp. This may be because the young version of Bieber is not always seen as an adult, or even a cis man. At the time, a user published a transphobic post on Reddit intended to show that Bieber was a trans man. The post listed his feminine features: long eyelashes, high-pitched voice, feminine hairline, you name it. Hence, Bieber is seen as a trans male icon, much like a trans man at the beginning of his transition, straddling the line between femininity and masculinity, adolescent boy and adult man.

Zack the drag © Nils Le Clown

According to Halberstam, both drag kings portraying typical ’types’ of men and those representing non-dominant or marginalized masculinities challenge the conventional view of masculinity as non-performative. The practice of kinging reveals the constructedness of dominant masculinity. Drag kings make the invisible performance of masculinity visible.

The future of drag: queering up the scene

So far, my approach to drag scenes has been similar to Halberstam’s: kings in lesbian culture and queens in gay culture. However, reality is much less binary. The situation as outlined so far may already be outdated. What does the future of drag look like? Today, those who do drag no longer fall within binary gender frameworks. While trans people have always been part of drag culture, they are now gaining visibility in the representation of drag for the mainstream audience. For example, it is – finally – no longer only cis men (and trans women who are not out of the closet) who are participating in the popular reality show RuPaul’s Drag Race, but also openly trans people and non-binary performers.

“What does the future of drag look like? It will completely break through binary gender frameworks. In fact, it is already happening now.”

Even what is embodied, the characters that are performed, are moving beyond (the binary idea of) gender. As such, the drag genre realness realness – i.e. embodying a normative man or woman as accurately as possible – is increasingly being pushed into the background. Drag queens are choosing not to shave their moustache or leg hair and don’t tuck (i.e. conceal their penis). For instance, Venus, the winner of the fourth season of Drag Race Canada, does not tuck. Natural skin colours are giving way to Clown White make-up, as in the case of Gottmik (the drag character of trans man Kade Gottlieb), the pastel-blue alien skin of drag queen Juno Birch, or the coloured faces of Antwerp drag queen Veronika Deneuve. Veronika insists she is not trying to be a ‘beautiful woman’. Juno Birch is playing with the boundaries of reality when, wearing a blue face, she explains in her YouTube make-up tutorial that she has ‘absolutely no make-up’ on, has just cleansed her skin and is ready for a new punk look.

Sassytarius © Lorenzo Frison

Another example is the drag character that Sassytarius, the drag character of my partner Charlie, recently performed at the drag show Send in the Clowns in Antwerp. He took inspiration for this from the Care Bears. The bear may have had long gel nails, high pink Crocs heels and long eyelashes, but it could just as easily be a gay bear as a girly bear or a non-binary animal, if you ask me. Then again, for another edition of this drag show, with a party afterwards, I entered the DJ booth wearing a clown outfit. I called it drag, but is it drag? The naive, playful but sometimes creepy character of the clown is another example of a gender queer figure often found in drag. A clown is not necessarily male or female. The symbols that are typical of this figure do not confirm a specific gender identity. For example, a clown has no facial hair, is not muscular and has neither breasts nor long eyelashes.

Lastly, drag shows themselves no longer take place exclusively in male gay subcultures or lesbian circles. Rather, they emphasize the transcendence of gender, such as Le Bal des Monstres in Brussels, Send in the Clowns in Antwerp or the American reality series The Boulet Brothers’ Dragula. These all emphasize a character, a monster, a villain, not queens or kings. The link to the monstrous, the strange and the villainous is a critical appropriation of how queers are perceived in society.