Netflix’s ‘Queer Eye’ Made This Queer Guy Look Deep Inside

Like I said in my praise-hands-emoji-worthy review of the new Queer Eye, the show comes with a lot of baggage. There’s the weight from the original Bravo series as well as the weight that any show featuring gay leads still carries. Don’t get me wrong, there’s way more queer visibility on TV compared to 2003. But it’s like, instead of having five gays trying to lift the 18-wheeler of representation, there are now 20 gays lifting an 18-wheeler–but it’s still an 18-wheeler!

For that reason, Netflix’s Queer Eye is a hella loaded show from the jump. The impact of the original series cannot be overstated, but there was blowback in the gay community as some felt the show turned the Fab Five into flawless superheroes at best or caricatures at worst. When you’re the only queer rep on TV, you’re (impossibly!) expected to represent every type. I can say firsthand that not seeing specifically myself in any of the original Fab Five kept me under the delusion that I was straight well into college because I thought gays weren’t made like me.

My fear going into the new Queer Eye was that the new show would once again feature five gay men cut from the same queer cloth instead of pulling swatches from many fab fabrics. For example, straight guys can find pop avatars in men ranging from Tim Allen to Frasier Crane and every Urkel, Joey, and Dev in between. I am not a Will or a Jack, but I’m way cleaner than Max. I’m very much a Chandler, but he was frustratingly made straight. So I wanted to find whatever it is I’m looking for in the new Fab Five, like a 21st century Tony Slattery or Charles Nelson Reilly (or at least other gay men that count those two gays amongst their heroes as I do).

After queuing up Queer Eye, my fear went from confirmed to checked, and then it was obliterated, honey. This makeover show made me over during my binge-watch, and episode four (the absolutely essential hour of TV that is “To Gay or Not Too Gay”) was the turning point. It is rare to watch an episode that addresses every single critique haters might have about the larger show, and “To Gay or Not Too Gay” breaks every argument against the show down to an atomic level and then smashes them.

Courtesy of Netflix

That’s because, for what I assume is the first time in Queer Eye history, the show made over a gay man. This accomplished two things. One: it spotlights the truth that all gays are not super-powered fashionistas. In the episode, grooming expert Jonathan Van Ness says, “There’s a stereotype that gay men are all expert designers, perfect at color coordination, but not all gay men know how to do that!” And two: the Fab Five making over a gay man allows six gay men to have real, direct, and honest conversations about what it means to be gay, what it means to be gay men, and–in the case of culture expert Karamo Brown and the episode’s subject AJ–what it means to be gay, black men.

While I didn’t form an intense “and then a hero comes along” connection with any of the new Fab Five, I connected with AJ’s fear because it was exactly what I wrestled with throughout my 20s. AJ is a civil engineer who spends time on construction sites and dresses to blend in. During his one-on-one with style expert Tan France, he says he doesn’t want anything “too feminine.” That word, “feminine,” grabs Tan’s attention and gives him a way into a dialogue that every gay man has, albeit usually internally.

Courtesy of Netflix

Some gay men are naturally feminine, and it’s something they can’t hide; Jonathan says as much in this episode’s fantastic coming-out-story montage, saying he “couldn’t hide it. Sky is blue, grass is green, can’t fight it.” Other gay men are naturally more masculine and deal with the assumption that they should be more feminine, which can cause them to recoil from all things deemed “girly.” And some gay men are somewhere in the middle, surrounded by people embracing or rejecting the same stereotypes. That’s where AJ was, and that’s where I was for all of my 20s.

Before coming out, before I even knew I was gay, I was flashy. I rode that early ’00s retro-resurgence like a wave, taking every excuse to get dressed up in whatever colorful vintage trash I could find in Tennessee’s thrift stores. Then I came out, and I became as conservative as the FCC, monitoring all my clothes to make sure they didn’t broadcast gay signals. The ascots and vintage striped pants I’d worn to concerts just a year earlier? No thank you! My purple Chuck Taylor high-tops, left unworn in the closet because purple was the gayest color. I would wear toe socks with my Sperry Top-Siders, but you best believe I would duck into a bathroom and take off those li’l socks before walking through airport security. Those li’l socks were gay as hell.

Being gay but trying to not seem gay is 1. stupid, and 2. exhausting.

Netflix

When Tan and food and wine expert Antoni Porowski take AJ clothes shopping, a flavor of tea that I drank for years is spilt: AJ doesn’t show off because of the perception that gay men are vain, and he worries that if he gets a little bit flashier, he’ll lose himself. Enter: Antoni, the most conservatively dressed of the Fab Five (“it’s about good-fitting jeans and T-shirts,” he says of his own style). He tells AJ about the internal pressure he felt when he came out, as he experimented with brighter colors and shorter bathing suits because that’s what he thought he had to do. But after all that, he settled into what felt comfortable to him–and that’s what Tan has been talking about. We’re all allowed to play with those extremes as much as we want, and we’re allowed to find a place in the middle that works for us. It’s there that AJ finally admits that, yeah, he actually does want to be a little more daring. “I like to have fun, I like to experiment,” says AJ in a dressing room. “If I had to do it over again, I’d probably be more true to myself.” Thankfully for AJ, the Queer Eye guys are there to let him do it all over.

Play my heart strings like a guitar, baby, because I know that song. The fear I had about being seen as gay, the same fear AJ has at the top of this ep, I had to bust it like a ghastly ghost. I did that by coming out to my parents and allowing myself to live truthfully publicly (which includes nonstop tweets about celeb crushes, obvs). This episode takes AJ on that same journey; he’s stuck in his self-expression because, as he says, he’s still withholding the truth from certain people. The truth really does set you free. After spending my 20s intentionally projecting “straightness” and hiding in nerd tees and ill-fitting jeans, I am now at the point in my journey where I don’t want to pass as straight. I want to be the me that I want to be. I grew a mustache, brought my polka dots and neckerchiefs back into rotation, and started living it up at the beach in the Speedos I always wanted to rock but didn’t because of #gaypanic. I’m proudly gay in my own way, flaunting and breaking stereotypes however I want.

That’s what the new Queer Eye is really all about. It’s about everyone being the best version of themselves they can be, with the help of five empathetic gay men. The fact that this mission statement comes from Jonathan, the prime example of a flamboyant and femme-leaning gay man, is fantastic.

Netflix

This line coming from Jonathan, the kind of gay I spent my 20s being afraid of becoming, it’s profound. It’s one type of gay man telling another type of gay man that what matters is what’s in his heart, and this coupled with Karamo’s connection with AJ as gay black men… it’s healing. This episode shows there are some stereotypes to be proud of (“Sky is blue, grass is green”) and there is one–the stereotype that all gay men are snarky backbiters–that needs to sashay away. Sincerely, thank you for that take, Jonathan.

And you now what I’ve realized? I don’t see all of myself in one of the Fab Five; I see parts of myself in all of them. I have designer Bobby Berk’s infectious energy and Tan’s appreciation of style. I have Antoni’s conflicted history re: his queerness (and I also have his Strokes shirt). I strive to have Karamo’s insight and, TBH, I want to have more of Jonathan’s fierce devotion to self-expression. These five and AJ took me on a journey, and I’m so glad that it’s doing the same for so many more. All things just keep getting better.

Where to stream Queer Eye