Fresh out of Pride month, queer culture seems to be at a crossroads. Visibility and acceptance is at an all-time high. Marriage equality has been upheld by the Supreme Court. LGBTQ people and allies flock en masse to all-encompassing Pride festivals and parades. RuPaul’s Drag Race is as mainstream as just about any other reality show, bringing all kinds of related topics — both the good and the problematic — to a mass audience.
Like anything once considered taboo that becomes more embraced by society, it can be easy to forget the past and the predecessors in queer culture who fought for the freedom so many enjoy today. At the same time, these very freedoms feel threatened amid the current political climate, and not everyone under the LGBTQ umbrella is treated equally.
This context is why Pose (10 p.m. Sundays, FX) is such an important series. Set in 1987 New York City, this Ryan Murphy drama initiates viewers into the underground LGBTQ scene of the era known as the ball community. Balls were part amateur fashion runway, part drag show, part beauty pageant and part dance battle, where primarily gay, trans and gender-nonconforming people of color were free to express themselves, competing in various categories at the mercy of a panel of judges and an opinionated audience.
So many elements of ball culture — from dance moves to lingo — have been co-opted over the years by people who embrace the fun, flashy elements without ever having to face the hardships this community lived through. See: Madonna’s “Vogue,” most Drag Race fans. So it’s amazing to see a show that specifically highlights the queer people of color and trans women who are so often erased from the narrative, including LGBTQ writers, directors and actors (sadly, trans actresses playing trans characters is quite revolutionary).
Most ball participants belong to a house, which is both a team they compete on and a surrogate family, as most have been rejected by their own because of their sexuality or gender expression. Pose opens with Blanca Rodriguez (Mj Rodriguez) leaving her cumbersome house, led by stone-cold stunner “mother” Elektra Abundance (Dominique Jackson), in an effort to start her own. Blanca’s more compassionate “House of Evangelista” grows to include young queer people she’s invited off the street and into her home.
Balls and houses were not all about camaraderie — many characters aren’t even accepted within their own community, as evidenced by the rift between trans people and gays, people of color and whites and even the trans women who don’t “pass” as cisgender and the feminine trans women who do. Blanca tries to break down these walls.
As with anything from Murphy (plus co-creators Brad Falchuk and Steven Canals), Pose is a visual delight. The ball scenes are intoxicating with all the colors, movement and music straight from your favorite ’80s mixtape — a stark contrast from most of the characters’ everyday lives, which more often than not include rejection, poverty and discrimination, all while the community is being ravaged by a disease that the president won’t even speak about.
This gritty yet glittery world is also juxtaposed with what’s best represented by the gilded phallic Trump Tower (Murphy just couldn’t resist), where New Jersey family man Stan Bowes (Evan Peters) takes up a job under Patrick Bateman 2.0 Matt Bromley (a perfectly cast James Van Der Beek). Here, it’s all about wealth, opulence and keeping up with the Joneses — no passion or personality. One poignant scene cuts between a vibrant underground ball and an actual ballroom, where the cookie-cutter upper crust rock in unison across a dull dance floor. The two worlds collide when Stan meets Angel (Indya Moore), a sex worker who goes on to join House of Evangelista. Stan must reconcile his feelings for her with his persona as a straight-laced husband and businessman. Is he falling for Angel, or just fetishizing her?
If you want a raw, real look at ball culture, there’s no topping the 1991 documentary Paris Is Burning, which gives a truly unfiltered view. It’s no doubt a strong inspiration for Pose, which is a fine addition to Murphy’s repertoire, a soap opera with heart and an important message worth sharing at a perfect moment in time. It exposes the harsh reality of the queer community’s struggle to simply survive, while also celebrating them: “How lucky are we?” one character says. “We create ourselves.”
Contact Jac Kern: @jackern
This article appears in Jul 4-11, 2018.
