You’re Born Naked, and the Rest is Capitalism: The RuPaul’s Drag Race Franchise’s Effect on the Politics of Drag Artistry through the Dissemination of Gay Assimilationism

Jacob Hise

Instructor’s Introduction

Jacob Hise wrote his sophisticated, lively paper for WR 151: Burning Questions, a course where students create an academic research project on a topic of their choosing. Jacob’s essay makes a strong, well-researched argument for the presence of a movement of drag culture away from its activist roots and toward an art form that represents what psychologist, LGBTQIA activist, and community organizer Dr. Don Kilhefner has called gay assimilationism, or a watering-down of queer culture in the service of conforming to cisheteronormativity. In particular, Jacob focuses on the popular television show RuPaul’s Drag Race, which, he argues, serves as a mainstream arbiter of drag culture and actively demonstrates the new commercialization of drag. This commodification, Jacob argues, leans all the way toward creating an environment where the heterosexual appropriation of drag culture is permissible and even encouraged. Jacob’s paper takes us on an exciting trip through the historical and cultural beginnings of drag and leads us to a sharp interrogation of the television’s show’s handling of this long-standing cultural practice in the queer community. The implications of Jacob’s analysis are vital and timely. I’m so proud of Jacob for creating this important project, and I suspect this won’t be the last time we see his name in print! 

Samantha M. Myers

From the Writer

Growing up as a queer child in rural North Carolina, gay culture was something hidden from me. My 3rd grade music teacher, a gay man, would become squeamish when we’d ask if he was married. Some mocked his voice while others whispered in the hallways that they don’t understand how a man can love another man. In this environment, I always felt out of place, like something was wrong with me. Queer repression had already gripped me by the age of 7: I’d even begin to cry if someone dared to ask me who my crush was. With tears streaming down my cheeks, I’d respond, “I can’t get crushes.” I didn’t know that queerness was a viable option. Around 4th grade, I was given an iPod, and inadvertently stumbled into online queer culture. I fell in love with that world. Online, I didn’t have to worry about being asked if I was a boy or a girl, if I was secretly gay, or any other microaggressive questions. I was accepted as whatever I wanted to be, whenever I wanted to be it. By 6th grade, I discovered RuPaul’s Drag Race through online memes. Watching season six of RuPaul’s, I was enamored with the glamorous, sexy, and theatrical lives of the queens on screen. I imagined I was them as I watched. I yearned for my queer experience to come out of the screen and into real life. As I became older, I had the opportunity to forge distinctly queer spaces and feel the healing power of in-person community. 

The longer I spent in face-to-face queer spaces, the more I noticed a stark divide between those who engaged solely in online queer culture and those who invested in their local communities. It was difficult to put my finger on at first, and I honestly haven’t quite understood the difference still, but it is something like a lack of knowledge of collective history. Slang is thrown around and gestures are adopted, but no one really knows what they are really saying or why they are saying it. The decades of secret, inner-community language that kept us queer people safe suddenly exploded into the mainstream. A large reason for this is the popularity of RuPaul’s Drag Race. Easily accessible, the show is able to introduce drag culture, and by extension, queer culture into predominant heterosexual society. “That’s tea” became a universal tongue-in-cheek comment, no longer a code to clue other queer individuals that you’re also queer. I’ve asked many of my peers if they knew what “tea” alludes to or how it originated. None knew. This alarmed me, and still does. It denoted that queer culture was assimilating with cisgender heterosexual culture. No longer was gay something to hide within American systems, but something to embrace. The language of drag queens and the artistry on RuPaul’s Drag Race became a commodity. It became something that heterosexuals expressed themselves through, whether that meant something as small as adopting slang, or something as visible as practicing drag. The contention between drag history and modern drag culture became evermore pressing in my mind. Hence, when I joined Prof. Samantha Myers’s writing course and was told I could write about anything I wanted, I knew that queer cultural integration needed to be explored. Upon researching, I found myself immersed in the beautiful and revolutionary world of the drag queens of our past. “You’re Born Naked, and the Rest is Capitalism” aims to educate a new generation of queer and non-queer Americans, as well as question the way we view queerness in our digital age.

You’re Born Naked, and the Rest is Capitalism: The RuPaul’s Drag Race Franchise’s Effect on the Politics of Drag Artistry through the Dissemination of Gay Assimilationism

The American inception of drag was deeply rooted in the radical politics of queer  counterculture. Each drag performance was a protest against the gender binary, a call to shift the  fundamental modes in which America was run. In the wake of  =RuPaul’s Drag Race ’s popularity,  drag politics have been uprooted due to the messaging of the television show’s host, RuPaul  Andre Charles. He frames drag through a lens of gaining the respect of and assimilating with  cisheterosexual neoliberal America. Queen’s looks become extremely polished and each  performer is encouraged to have a brand; something that can be bought, owned, and sold. For the  sake of capital gain, which is afforded through assimilation, RuPaul has chiseled away at what  drag used to be, presenting America with a wholly new concept of what drag is. This political  rhetoric is one of  gay assimilationism , which sanitizes the art of drag for the sake of acceptance  into cisgender, heterosexual society.

The inception of drag as we know it today was created as an avenue for black resilience.  While there are many documented cases of female impersonation prior to the 1880s,  drag refers to enacting gender performatively. The focus of this paper will specifically be on drag  queens , a  subset of drag that is characterized by the performer subverting and commenting on feminine  gender roles. The first true  queen was William Dorsey  Swann, a previously enslaved African  American, who dubbed herself the “Queen of Drag” (Daniels and Takach 16). She discreetly  hosted cakewalking balls (Daniels and Takach 16), a style of dance founded by enslaved  Africans parodying the pompous mannerisms of plantation owners (Pugh 17). The presence of  this dance style in combination with gendered performance signals a rebellion against white America, the same America that enforced cisgender-heterosexual norms. Despite the ongoing societal oppression and risk of legal issues, Swann and other queens celebrated queerness, a  political act of self-love during such a stifling time for LGBTQ+ citizens (“Drag Queens, The  First Amendment…” 1474). Swann was dubbed the first queer activist after she fought police  officers during a raid of one of her balls, protecting the privacy and rights of the other attendees  as they fled amidst the confusion (Daniels and Takach 17). She refused to back down to her  oppressors despite her class as a queer black man in America, setting the precedent for all queens  after her as the freedom fighters of the LGBTQ+ movement.

Moving into the 20th century, drag performance continued in queer circles despite  homophobic laws that fundamentally questioned queer bodily autonomy. Notably, the  genderfuck  style of drag developed in the 1960s, pioneered in the West Coast drag scene by beloved troupe  The Cockettes  (Thompson, “Children of Paradise” 52).  This extraordinarily queer group  performed in beautiful gowns with full-grown beards and glamorous make-up with hairy chests  against the backdrop of thrifted props and cardboard set pieces, markedly D.I.Y. (Thompson,  “Children of Paradise” 52, 56). Fellow West Coast queen José Sarria, who performed parodies of  operas in The Black Cat bar in the 1950s, noted the importance of drag to make commentary on  gender roles and keep a queer consciousness alive in the wake of anti-vice and anti-crossdressing  laws in America (“Drag Queens, The First Amendment” 1476-77; Thompson, “Children of  Paradise” 53). Drag imbued the minds of queer youth and elders with an urge to fight, a critical  questioning of the oppressive manner in which America was run.

This boiling anger culminated in the Stonewall Rebellion, where unsurprisingly, drag  queens were at the forefront of the battle. The routinely police-raided Stonewall Inn, a queer  nightlife club in NYC, was once again raided in June 1969 by NYPD’s First Division (Baumann, “Introduction” 13). Patrons fought back against the arrests occurring, leading police to seek  refuge within the Inn itself (Segal 154). Many of the privileged queer patrons ran away, while  others, namely drag queens, self-identified transvestites, and sex workers (Baumann,  “Introduction” 14; Segal 153; Thompson, “Children of Paradise” 55), began throwing loose  objects from the streets at the cowering police (Segal 154). Two notable queens who fought this  battle were Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera, who in part founded the Street Transvestites  Action Revolutionaries (STAR) (Young 261). STAR was a radical left organization, of which the  manifesto states: “[t]ransvestites and gay street people and all oppressed people should have free  education, health care, clothing, food, transportation, and housing” (“STAR Manifesto”). The  explicit radicalism of this group displays the fact that in the late 20th century, leftist politics were  a driving factor in the ideal of queer liberation. It is important to note that at the time, there was  no well-established societal understanding of transgender identities, even though there were  those with gender incongruence. Instead there were transvestites, who viewed themselves as gay  men who performed drag in everyday life and identified more closely with cisgender women, as  Marsha P. Johnson explains in her interview with Allen Young (271). Many drag queens who  categorized themselves as transvestites may have aligned with transgender identities as they exist  in the 21st century.

Thus, the liberation of the gay man, the drag queen, and the transvestite were one in the same. Another notable active queer liberation group of the time was the Mattachine Society, whom STAR was inspired by (Baumann, “Appendix” 350); incepted in the 1950s (Baumann, “Introduction” 15; Thompson, “Harry Hay” 188), most initial members of the Mattachine Society were leftist activists (Thompson, “Harry Hay” 187) and continuously called for queer  Americans to unite in the wake of Stonewall (Baumann, “Appendix” 351). Politics, and  importantly radical ones, have been tied to queer liberation amongst drag queens since the fight began with the Queen of Drag, William Dorsey Swann. These movements did not seek to fit in  with heterosexual culture, but rather, exist in an entirely transformed America. The nation that  drag queens sought to forge was one where gender was ignored, allowing freedom to conduct  oneself without definite, stifling expectations and systems. This philosophy extends itself to  other systemic boxes, such as people operating as modes of production. These queens dared to  assert that homelessness and sex work were not a disease—some kind of moral failure—as  STAR asserts that these classes  deserve  food, housing, and other necessities. Marsha P. Johnson  even states, “[w]e believe in picking up the gun, starting a revolution if necessary” (Young 263).  Her unabashed support of righteous violence goes hand-in-hand with her dream of a pro-queer  United States. To Marsha P. Johnson, a trailblazer of gay liberation, the queer should not seek  rights through assimilation, but through demonstrated strength and resilience.

 Through its popularity, RuPaul’s Drag Race  has begun  shifting the way drag is viewed by larger American society and within the drag scene itself. The art of drag was historically used by  queer individuals, those whose sexualities and genders did not match what was viewed as  acceptable by cisheteronormative society. RuPaul majorly subverted this aspect of the drag  movement when Maddy Morphosis competed in Season 14 as the first cisgender, heterosexual man-identifying queen on RPDR  (“Big Opening No. 2” 7:09). The inclusion of a non-queer drag  queen highlights the apolitical nature of RuPaul’s Drag Race. The queer queen is dethroned to  make way for a space where any drag artist is worthy of being on such a popular franchise. Drag on RuPaul’s Drag Race is positioned as an art form  that anyone can participate in, as long as they  are worthy of being in the running for “America’s Next Drag Superstar” (RuPaul’s Drag Race ). While Maddy Morphosis did not win Season 14, if she did, it is worth noting that a straight heterosexual man would have claim to the largest drag title in the American drag scene.

While drag used to primarily be utilized as a political statement, RuPaul has begun  unravelling these motivations through focus on aesthetics and visual intrigue. In most episodes, queens are implicitly expected to shave their legs and wear things that accentuate small waists, bolstering Western beauty standards (Jeffrey 10). While it is not true of all past queens, many  drag queens did not attempt to assimilate with beauty standards so heavily. This is displayed by José Sarria—one of the most beloved queens of the 1950s (Thompson, “Children of Paradise” 53)—who can be seen embracing her natural waist, eyebrows, and facial structure in her  performances at The Black Cat (José Sarria… ). As a latiné queen, she performs with raw  make-up that lacks the slimming contouring that many drag queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race adopt. Most contestants present sanitized, marketable versions of drag. Two Season 15 queens,  Sugar and Spice, began drag on TikTok, admitting on air that, “[w]e have, like, [done] one or two  performances, and they were a nightmare” (“One Night Only, Pt. 1” 2021).  RuPaul’s Drag Race ’s casting is heavily selective due to the reputation  it has, yet two queens who had barely performed live were chosen to compete on the biggest drag competition in America. While they did not have live performance skills, what they did have was an established brand, reflected in  their TikTok following of about 4 million followers as of 2021 (Allaire). Many of their videos  =show them transforming from conventionally attractive men to drag queens with polished make up and expensive outfits. As seen in their TikToks, they apply make-up and zoom in to reveal  airbrushed skin (Sugar and Spice 2021). This flawless framing extends to RuPaul’s Drag Race ,  where each drag queen’s skin is perfect, costumes professionally made, make-up flattering. Examining a still from Season 17 episode 4 at 24:03, both Onya Nurve and Susie Toot have poreless faces and lace-front wigs, which are typically used because they markedly look more natural than laceless wigs. Clearly, RuPaul’s Drag Race  demonstrates a focus on current ideals of  beauty and perfection.

These changes to drag culture point to a larger shift in the meaning of drag, which falls  under the category of  gay assimilationism, a queer  political framework pioneered by Dr. Don  Kilhefner. As Dr. Kilhefner argues, this political framework is based on the idea that “[queer  people are] no different from anybody else except for what we do in bed” (Kilhefner 125). To a gay assimilationist, a gay man, a lesbian, or any other queer-identifying person are inherently the  same as a cisheterosexual. Thus, this means that homosexuals and transgender individuals  deserve to and  must  exist in tandem with cisheterosexual culture. Gay assimilationism values economic gain and respectability, inherently valuing cisheterosexist views because of this (Kilhefner 125). The gay assimilationist must sacrifice their queerness to find success in America’s current systems, as these systems were built on and thrive under oppression (Harris  141). Kilhefner points to gay assimilationist political success as engaging with what the  heterosexual sees as such: accumulation of power through competition (125). RuPaul and the messaging of his show fall in line with this framework, especially in terms of commercialization and the inherent assimilation he must concede to for said capitalistic gain.

The entire show, each season and episode, is structured around what RuPaul deems as  good or bad drag, high art versus low art. Each episode (one episode is edited-down from a  week-long filming session), queens compete in both a “mini-challenge” and “maxi-challenge,” as well as strut on the runway in accordance to the category RuPaul assigns that week (RuPaul’s Drag Race). Each episode, there are countless camp references made, such as when RuPaul states: “category is…” when announcing the runway theme that week (RuPaul’s Drag Race).  This is a reference to the highly influential drag film Paris is Burning , which documents the NYC Bronx ballroom/vogueing scene during the late 1980s (Paris is Burning 0:15:33). At the end of each episode, RuPaul and a panel of judges, which always includes a celebrity guest judge, critique the queens’ looks on the runway and their performance in the maxi-challenge (RuPaul’s Drag Race). This portion of the episode marks RuPaul as a spokesperson for what drag  should be portrayed as, and this is perpetuated through the lens of what RuPaul has accomplished  (Schottmiller 86). The queen with both the best look and who serves the most “charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent” in their maxi-challenge—a marketable catchphrase that spells  ‘cunt,’ a common compliment in queer spaces—wins for that week (RuPaul’s Drag Race). The two queens with the worst performance that week must “lip sync for their life,” ending with one ultimately being eliminated (RuPaul’s Drag Race). The usage of “for their life” by RuPaul situates his television show as a metaphorical life or death situation, imbuing the importance his show has on a queen’s reputation inside the competition and for their future career. As Schottmiller argues, this facet positions RuPaul as the mentor for both the queens competing, as  well as drag race viewers (100). Additionally, the show’s frequent camp references market RuPaul as knowledgeable on queer culture, therefore marking her status as “Mother Ru” a valid one (Schottmiller 86).

RuPaul makes drag palatable to heterosexual culture for his own capital gain. Capitalism is a predominant manner in which cisheteronormativity is perpetuated, as the continued function  of American capitalism relies on society’s participation in the system (Nguyen 115). As Nguyen  summarizes, this culminates as social reproduction  processes, which are facilitated through the  following three modes: replenishing the current worker (food, clothing, shelter), generation of  the worker (education, childrearing), and the reproduction of ideologies found within the current  system (115-116). Notably, some reproduced ideologies within American capitalism are racism, homophobia, sexism, and transphobia (Nguyen 116). A queer American participating in social reproduction is thus complacent with the injustices capitalism perpetuates, and can be classified  as a gay assimilationist. For instance, marriage is a social reproduction that up until recently, only applied between a cisgender man and cisgender woman. Through Obergefell v. Hodges , gay  citizens were allowed to marry: the concept of marriage was deemed so natural by capitalist society that it was a gross injustice for gay people to be barred from doing so (Nguyen 124). A  gay couple who marries is emulating what Christian capitalist society deems as the highest form  to express one’s love for another.

RuPaul establishes herself as not only a queer cultural icon, but a heterosexual cultural  icon as well. In the Season 6 episode “Drag My Wedding,” queens were faced with putting  straight grooms in full drag, who subsequently got married on the runway with RuPaul as the  officiator (“Drag My Wedding” 28:13). RuPaul’s status as Mother Ru is heightened due to his performance as marriage officiator, but more importantly, he confers belonging within the drag community onto straight fans. As he knits drag and heterosexual relationships together, RuPaul pushes the message that straight and gay people are not so different. Interestingly, this episode aired before Obergefell v. Hodges  was passed in 2016 (Schottmiller 96), making the choice to  officiate straight marriages even more striking. Instead of, for example, marrying queer couples  and thus inviting gay people into heterosexual culture, RuPaul’s Drag Race bestows assimilation  unto itself through RuPaul’s self-insertion into the heterosexual zeitgeist. This episode falls in  line with his catchphrase, featured in his Twitter description: “You’re born naked and the rest is drag” (@RuPaul). RuPaul broadcasts the narrative that every human has a stake in the art of  drag, essentially stating that every person performs gender roles. This quote oversimplifies drag: drag is not  just performative gender expression, but a political movement aimed at liberating the queer mind.

In comparison to the economically radical ideals of trailblazing queens of the past,  RuPaul shamelessly commercializes drag through leaning on marketable products for episode  plots. This began in Season One, where the competitors’ maxi-challenge for the week was presenting a mock commercial for MAC Viva Glam! (“MAC/Viva Glam! Challenge”), a line of makeup which RuPaul was a spokesperson for at the time (Scottmiller 92). Here, he is using the  pedestal awarded to television hosts to plug his product. This continues in each season, but it noticeably becomes more apparent that RuPaul is urging audiences to indulge in his products. This is a concept that Schottmiller defines as Camp  Capitalism, an emerging form of capitalism which parodies heterosexual marketing norms through unabashed, over-the-top advertising  strategies (Schottmiller 150). This is most repeated by RuPaul when advertising his music. RuPaul frequently re-releases his established discography as remixes (Schottmiller 137), giving audiences an opportunity to enhance his economic prowess. During the final episode of Season  2, he looks directly into the camera and states, “If you’ve been groovin’ to any of my songs this  season, you can find them all on my album Champion, available on iTunes” (“The Main Event  Clip Show” 41:50). She finishes the episode with: “Remember, if you can’t love yourself, how in  the hell are you gonna buy my album…” (“The Main Event Clip Show” 42:12). The double inclusion of his commodity displays his shameless self-promotion, as well as a utilization of  eye-contact with the viewer, affirms the importance of the now-consumer to engage in RuPaul’s  capital accumulation. Additionally, the blatant promotion stands in contrast to the expected  respectability of heterosexual marketing strategies (Schottmiller 148), inviting audiences to  separate RuPaul’s form of capitalism from that of dominant culture. Despite the difference in strategy, this does not take away from the fact that RuPaul accumulates large amounts of money  through the art of drag. Capitalism is capitalism no matter the avenue of expression.

RuPaul’s gay assimilationist politics extends outside of the 2D world of social media and  television and into the real world through the RuPaul’s  Drag Race  convention, RuPaul’s DragCon. RuPaul’s DragCon, which first began in 2015, occurs annually and has since  expanded to both Los Angeles and New York City (Schottmiller 185). If all 40,000 attendees of DragCon 2017 bought the cheapest ticket option, the gross profit would still be $1.6 million  (Schottmiller 190). RuPaul expands his drag monopoly through many avenues, pointing to his  pro-capitalistic views. DragCon includes vendors, panels, and a keynote speech by RuPaul himself. Notably, RuPaul uses his keynote speeches to frame the RuPaul’s Drag Race fanbase as distinctly separate from queerness; he positions his television show as allowing the “convergence  of people who love color and beauty and everything” (Schottmiller 208). Using this phrasing, he  caters to the heterosexual audience by ensuring that they do not feel ostracized for participating  in an art form rooted in queer culture. At the same time, this rhetoric ignores the roots of drag  and the suffering endured to allow a television show like  RPDR to become so popular (Schotmiller 208).

He also utilizes his keynote speech to sew a narrative that his camp capitalism is  fundamentally different from heterosexual capitalism. In the same keynote speech, RuPaul says: “You got to buy a lot of stuff, and you got to buy stuff you don’t need. So how are they gonna get  you to buy things that you don’t need? They have to tell you that you’re not whole” (Schottmiller 212). Using his status as Mother Ru, he enlightens audiences to the manipulative ways of  capitalism, critiquing it in the process. He recognizes that the world in which capitalism thrives  in is one that teaches people to undermine their value, a sentiment that the queens of the past would likely share with him. He is differentiating himself from the consumerism pushed by  predominant culture. Schottmiller points out how RuPaul makes it seem that his capitalism is  separate from its oppressive counterpart because audiences consume to nourish their souls  through art and creativity, not to fix something (213). However, this philosophy is uncovered as  performative when in that same speech, he calls audiences to buy official  RuPaul’s Drag Race merch because “…we are slashing the prices! Slashing the prices on things! Yes! So go down  there, and get the stuff” (Schottmiller 213). Audiences, believing that their favorite television  host disagrees with capitalism’s exploitative philosophies, then hear RuPaul advertise his  products. Since RuPaul apparently aligns himself with leftist political ideals, audience members  may be more willing to fuel RuPaul’s drag empire.

While RuPaul sometimes presents himself as politically forward, other times, he proudly  engages with the American systems of neoliberalism that his drag elders would likely have  fought. The neoliberal queer body, or rather homonormative body, may in some ways exhibit  queerness, but these expressions are extraneous (Nguyen 123). At a basic level, neoliberal queers  abide by the normative structures of society: they are well educated, capitalistic, and do not  challenge the norms of American culture (Nguyen 123). A neoliberal queer is a gay assimilationist. A prime example of RuPaul’s neoliberal politics is how he views and discusses his husband, Georges Lebar’s, Wyoming ranch (Randall). Demonstrating his privilege, RuPaul tells Jimmy Kimmel, “I go up there and read books and watch movies. We just chill” (Randall). The 60,000 acres of land symbolizes RuPaul’s homonormativity (Randall), for him and his husband’s explicit homosexuality is acceptable because they do not challenge the social traditions that uphold capitalistic forces (Harris 140). RuPaul’s de-politicalization of drag affords him this land at the cost of reproducing capitalistic forces of oppression, for a queer is only allowed to participate in normative society when their queerness is compromised (Harris 141). RuPaul not only compromises his identity for heteronormative systems, but actively participates  in them for capital gain. On NPR podcast Fresh Air hosted by Terry Gross, RuPaul admits that:  “…a modern ranch, 21st century ranch, is really land management…you lease the mineral rights  to oil companies. And you sell water to oil companies” (Gross 32:58). Here, RuPaul meets heterosexual ideals of life by participating in bourgeois upward class mobility (Kilhefner 125).

RuPaul’s Drag Race caters to neoliberal politics by  heavily supporting the American  government and the integrity of democracy. During the 2024 Presidential election, the official RuPaul’s Drag Race  YouTube account posted a video  urging viewers to vote (“S16 Queens…”).  Season 16 queen Plasma, wearing a patriotic blue and silver dress, addresses the camera as she  says: “…will you want to be someone who looks back and pats themself on the back knowing that you made a difference and your voice was heard and you participated in a democracy that struggles to maintain its own democratic principles?” (“S16 Queens…” 4:21-4:34). In this quote, Plasma highlights the fallacy of American democracy. LGBTQ+ rights and specifically the right  to do drag are actively being challenged by American governments despite the unignorable presence of queer individuals (“Drag Queens, The First Amendment…”  1477). Plasma positions the viewer as the solution to the government’s deception, signalling to audiences that the way to have liberated queer minds is through engagement with and belief in American democracy. This  ignores that such a democracy was built on the foundations of capitalist heterosexism facilitated by the social reproduction theory (Nguyen 141), a system which implies the reproduction of oppressive society (Nguyen 116).

The trajectory of drag artistry indicates a larger shift in queer culture to gay assimilationism. The drag queen, who were the freedom fighters of the modern queer movement, is beginning to integrate into heterosexist society. By excluding radical movements from drag politics, the queer community continues to replicate the oppressive systems that create homophobia in the first place (Nguyen 127). As Harris explains, a queer American’s  participation in respectability politics and capitalistic ventures will not save them from the systemic and societal implications of American capitalism (Harris 147). American society will continue to operate under the assumption that a valuable American is one who productively interacts with the economy and mimics the heterosexual focus on marriage and raising children (Nguyen 124, 126). Drag queens used to challenge this framework by focusing on their art even  if it meant poverty and discrimination, challenging notions of capitalistic labor ideals, gender expression, and sexuality. However, the new politics of drag do the opposite, and instead aim for respectability within current society. Recognizing the political overhaul of the drag movement may allow viewers of RuPaul’s Drag Race to better understand what the show is genuinely  advocating for. Instead of continuing in ignorance of queer history, audiences who recognize the dissonance between these two modes of drag may research and become inspired by the ideals of previous queens.

RuPaul’s Drag Race has radically changed the way in which the art of drag is digested in American society through deploying gay assimilationist politics. Queens of the past like Marsha  P. Johnson and William Dorsey Swann framed drag as a subversive, inherently political artistic movement. As RuPaul deployed capitalistic marketing strategies and became a queer role model,  drag became a sanitized method for queer Americans to assimilate into predominant culture. Researchers who are interested in this topic may discuss in detail the implications of Maddy Morphosis’ inclusion in  RuPaul’s Drag Race and what  it means to be a non-queer drag queen. Another possible research avenue is discussing the political past and messaging of RuPaul’s  Drag Race in countries where the RuPaul’s franchise has expanded to. Finally, researchers may  poll the gender and sexuality of RuPaul’s Drag Race audiences to understand how many cisgender and straight Americans are fans of the show. RuPaul’s Drag Race, while it has offered visibility to the queer community, has in turn made it palatable and sanitized to larger American  culture.

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Jacob Hise is a sophomore in Boston University’s acting program with a minor in dance, but he was raised in Hickory, North Carolina. He has a deep interest in the tie that theatrical performance has to politics, and he hopes to make great strides for Americans through theatrical activism post-graduation. Although most of his time is spent honing his craft, he gets great joy from engaging with literature. Whether it be reading a fantasy novel or writing poetry, the literary arts are a safe-space for Jacob. He would like to thank his faculty mentor, Christine Hamel, for always supporting him during his unendingly busy semesters at BU.