Queer chic is now so chic in metrosexual circles that the "straight
queer" is everywhere to be found. GQ sketched out a "Spectrum of Gay
Positivity" that ranged from "Active in Gay Causes" (Barbra Streisand,
Elizabeth Taylor) to "Appropriating Gay Characteristics" (Markie Mark, Prince), "Professing One's Own Inner Gayness" (Kurt Cobain, Sharon Stone), and "Pretending to Be Gay" (Madonna, certain college students).
"Fumbling disclosures of omnisexuality" were viewed as a necessary awkward stage through which the "cultural elite" was passing-part of the price of ultimate social acceptance and assimilation, "until gay culture becomes boringly familiar to Americans, like hip-hop in the suburbs and Protestant-Catholic intermarriage." This will not, it seems safe to say, happen tomorrow. But is what GQ dubbed the "queer-is-cool philosophy" a fashion or a sexuality? Or is there any difference?
"Queer" sounds quite different when used as a term for oneself than it
does when it is shouted or sneered from the street corner. Its power as
an aggressive generalization, a refusal to accept "a minoritizing logic of
toleration or simple political interest-representation" in favor of a "resistance to regimes of the normal,"" makes the term a powerful theoretical tool for queer theorists. The word's in-your-face qualities, what lesbian playwright Holly Hughes called its "cringe factor,"93 have contributed to its popularization, against the theoretical grain, by people, especially young people, who are adamantly not interested in "theory."
Yet as many participants in the new sexuality debates stress, "queer" has real drawbacks when specificity and representation are required. It is a postmodern label with roots in fashion and discourse, and an appealing omnipresence in early twentieth-century literary and cultural texts ("You're a queer one, Julie Jordan") that seems to validate the historical existence of "queer people" before the queer movement, and Queer Nation, took off. But despite its value as a political slogan, "queer" is not, finally and fundamentally, an easy political term. Lesbian and gay writers from Terry Castle to Eric Marcus have expressed doubts about its pertinence, since it erodes the very specificity they consider crucial.
"The term queer has lately become popular in activist and progressive academic circles in part, it seems to me, precisely because it makes it easy to enfold female homosexuality back 'into' male homosexuality and disembody the lesbian once again," writes Castle. "To the extent that 'queer theory' still seems . . . to denote primarily the study of male homosexuality, I find myself at odds with both its language and its universalizing aspirations."
"Queer performativity" has its own cultural power among those who
know what "performativity" means. For the person in the street (or
on the street corner), however, "queer" often remains, culturally and
discursively speaking, a matter of style and rhetoric. It's popular with
some young people and some academics, but its universalizing impulse is (designedly) at odds with its joyful claim of stigmatization. Precisely because of the ambivalently exclusive mantle of "chic," it's unlikely that "everybody's queer" will replace the cliche "everybody's bisexual" in the near future.