In Sparkling Spandex

By Claire Watson

Are superheroes the drag queens we deserve?

In a world rife with hardships, good entertainment goes a long way in allowing audiences to escape from reality. Flicking on our favourite movie or series, tucking into the latest comic, or pouring our hearts into fandom can be a pleasing way to end a stressful day. Superheroes allow us to slip out of our world and into one full of extraordinary moments. 

Superheroes, even if we are hesitant to admit it, are known for their flashiness. From the bright pages of their comic books, to the high-budget, CGI extravaganzas of the latest Marvel films, superheroes are created to be as aesthetically pleasing as they are powerful. Could Scarlet Witch feasibly have such perfect hair and make-up all while flying around and warping reality? Not at all, but that only makes her even more fantastical and exciting to watch. It's this flashiness that brings such joy. 

It’s for the same reason that so many people, especially those that do not identify as LGBTQ+, have been drawn to the art of drag. There is an attractiveness to the sequins, the gravity-defying wigs and the make-up. I argue that watching drag performers lip-sync for their lives on RuPaul’s Drag Race is just as tense as watching Thor and Hela go head to head. And sidenote: Thor is lucky that he’s not lip-syncing against Hela, because Cate Blanchett is simply that powerful.

It’s not just that drag and superheroes are both incredibly popular sources of entertainment in current culture. I believe that they’re two sides of the same coin. One side typically represents hyper-femininity, and the other hyper-masculinity. From the historical roles drag performers and superheroes play in our society, to the exploration of gender norms, to the artistic impact of these two forms, there are many similarities that join drag and superheroes together. 

A Hero is Born 

Drag queens have historically flung themselves into mainstream media with their positions at the forefront of many queer liberation movements. Though they have existed for centuries, the art of drag is born by a need to disrupt social norms. During the mid 20th century, drag pageants and balls were hosted across the world to provide LGBTQ+ folk with safe spaces to express themselves. Drag artists such as Marsha P. Johnson and Stormé DeLarverie played a crucial role in the Stonewall riots. Where there is political anxiety, there is the art of drag, fighting for liberation. 

Superman’s identity as a Jewish superhero is contested, with many trying to funnel him into the all-American poster-boy that can be easily slapped on a bit of merchandising without thinking of the character’s social implications. Regardless of the debate, his creators, Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, are Jewish and the hero is born as a direct response to the anti-semitism spreading across the world. His home destroyed, Superman escapes to Earth in hopes of building a better future, a reality many Jewish people faced during the 1940s. Though an immigrant, Superman becomes a national, and even international hero. 

Many critics compare the hero to the figure of the Golem. A creature of Jewish folklore designed to have super strength and serve as humanity’s protector. In literature, the Golem becomes a vessel to explore social anxieties through. Similar, though unique and equally important, origin stories can be applied to many of our beloved heroes. The point is; where there is a societal issue, superheroes are created to uplift those whose voices have been marginalised and to look cool while doing it. 

Becoming cultural icons, superheroes and drag artists alike play an important role in swaying the public’s perception by shining a light on those that have been pushed into the dark. 

The Name, The Mask, The Wig. 

The costume is a core component of the superhero. Often, it's the hero themselves putting it together. We see a montage of Toby MacGuire’s spiderman sketching different suits; toned figures raising their arms to reveal a parachute made of spider-web, flexing as they sail through his notebook. He writes, “needs more colour!” and with a bit, or a lot, of blue and red he brings his alter-ego Spiderman to life. 

Finding the name and the costume is an expected trope in superhero stories. In video games, designing and upgrading the hero’s suit becomes a major gameplay mechanic, and sometimes even a plot device. Suiting up sees the hero becoming the character they’ve created. They shed their everyday clothes to become something that breaks our expectations of reality.

Like the superhero, the drag performer’s alter ego transforms them from a mere human into something spectacular. The name, sometimes tied to the legacy of a drag house, sometimes marking their journey, or sometimes just a camp pun, brings power. The wonder of seeing a queen strut down the street in 10 inch heels, or seeing a king’s sparkling abs popping out of spandex, is perhaps the closest we’ll get in reality to seeing humans fly. 

Masculinity and Glitter

Though drag encompasses a plethora of gender identities, drag begins as a way to play upon mainstream representations of femininity. It takes the patriarchal view of AFAB (Assigned Female At Birth) bodies and plays with it. Female icons like Grace Jones and Liza Minelli rise to fame among drag performers for their dandiacal plays with gender. Dissatisfied with representations of masculinity, many queer men and trans-women find comfort in popular, feminine icons and choose to embody them through drag. 

Through stereotypically masculine characters such as Batman, Captain America, Wolverine and many more, cisgender men find this same comfort. Robert Pattinson’s recent portrayal of Batman brought a deeper emotional element to the character. Pattinson’s Batman expresses masculinity through a lens tinged with trauma. To see this represented in something as mainstream as DC echoes society’s changing understanding of expressions of both gender and emotion.

On the topic of DC, while Suicide Squad is nothing short of a disaster, the way Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn embodies feminity in a way that is cute, colourful and threatening, just screams camp. Birds of Prey portrays her gender as a force to be reckoned with.

The Artist and the Alter Ego

With our first looks at Across the Spiderverse, it feels relevant to discuss the artistry of Miles Morales. By studying the history of comic books and their various art styles, Into the Spiderverse revolutionised animation. Along with beautiful scenes of Miles swinging around his hometown, Into the Spiderverse uses visual effects to tell a story of self-discovery. 

These adaptations show superheroes for what they are; works of art. Much like drag artists, behind every superhero there is a creative process seeing this character to fruition. For every colour palette, spandex, stitch and rhinestone, there is a narrative at work. Sometimes it's Spidermen, sometimes it's Glamazons. Showing Miles as an artist helps highlight the artistry of heroes, and the spidersonas that followed this movie showcase heroes as forms of self-expression. 

While I propose that superheroes are the drag artists of a hyper-masculine gaze, I will note that many heroes, including Miles, stray away from this hyper-masculinity that is so often toxic. Taking this to the extreme is Deadpool. 

Through the gore, explosions, and katana blades, Deadpool remains camp and unabashedly queer. His design is purposefully masculine, and yet his humour plays upon ideas of fragile masculinity. He defies expectations. As drag performers break expectations of gender, Deadpool takes on the superhero genre and makes it his own. Despite the movies, Deadpool is canonically pansexual, providing queer people with the camp superhero - or anti-hero - they deserve. His character design leans into typical, masculine superhero tropes, yet feminine expressions provide those who are so often oppressed such macho-masculinity with a safe space. 

Is This The Representation We Deserve? 

Mainstream media often waters down the political power of drag, with shows like RuPaul’s drag race playing to a cisgender and heterosexual audience’s perception of social conventions. The same can be said for Marvel. Loki’s explicit queerness in his comic books is barely mentioned on the silver screen. After publicly questioning why Peter Parker couldn’t be bisexual, Andrew Garfield felt pressured into apologising for his remark. America Chavez’ queerness is shown on-screen with a pin despite her comic’s efforts of explicitly presenting her as queer and to normalise LGBTQ+ existences. 

Comparing superheroes to drag queens is a fun way to understand the mainstream media’s representation of gender. However, this is not to obscure Marvel’s and DC’s lack of adequate representation.