What’s up with all these damn gay pageants? Do we really need more? Isn’t just being a regular queen enough? Do we really need to justify our queerness with crowns, tiaras and sashes? Or do queer folk just really love shiny jewellery and titles?
I recently read some harsh comments about the Mr. Gay South Africa ™ competition and they really made me think. Most of the comments were rather unflattering and probably written by a jaded bitch queen with mommy issues, but, with that said, a few of the remarks do hold some truths about our community.
The gay community can be rather bitchy, spiteful, backstabbing and overly dramatic and none of this is better portrayed than when it comes to gay pageants. Put a bunch of queens together on a stage, tell them they are competing for a crown, a title and some cheap-ass sponsored prizes or booze, then sit back and watch the sparks fly.
For some bizarre reason if a queen is on a stage, even if he was never competitive in his life, a switch is flipped. This switch puts blinders on the poor dear and the whole competition becomes extremely important, a matter of life and death, where winning is everything and losing means your whole life is a complete and utter failure.
Most of us who have been around a few dodgy night clubs have heard the rumours that their “beauty” pageants are rigged. The queen that is the most popular and loyal amongst the upper echelon of that particular night club always wins, no matter what the judges’ score sheets say.
True or not, I find the very concept of gay pageants quite queer. I’ve always suspected that the idea must have once been conceived by a group of old queens sitting around debating how they could get to check out some tight, young, gay ass.
“So what’s the point of pageants. Yes the guys are hunky and the drag queens are funky but do we really need them?”
And voila, gay pageants were born. What a shrewd way to get a bunch of young hunks together in one venue, have them strip down to their underwear and have them strut their stuff!
When the queen finally has his title what happens next? It’s simple, he will strut his fagalicious ass around that night club for exactly one year, being the club’s “ambassador” and the envy of all his minions, and that’s pretty much where it ends – until the whole cycle repeats itself the following year.
With bigger and more professional competitions, where the queen competes for a national title, the story differs slightly. Now he can go on to compete for a global title and take over the world and become the earthly ambassador of all queens everywhere!
Like Miss World you will read about these winners on a side bar of a web page somewhere, think they are pretty, check which country they represents and then go about your business. Even though they profess world peace, feeding hungry children, bathing and clothing the homeless and finding a cure for dreaded diseases, none of the contestants actually accomplish any of these things.
I still see dirty homeless people, hungry children and wars. So what’s the point? Are they nothing more than pretty faces to represent a charity or two, hunky man meat to grace benefit dinners or a nice magazine cover when an actual celebrity cancelled? Are they really making a difference? You decide for yourself.
So what’s the point of pageants. Yes the guys are hunky and the drag queens are funky but do we really need them? Honestly, I think we kind of do.
They are a great form of alternative entertainment; as long as we are truthful about them and don’t try and fool people into believing pageants are something they are not. These queens will not save the world but they could very well save you from a dull night at home.