Erased: From ‘Slap’ to ‘Slay’ – The Evolution of Language in LGBTQ+ Communities
Interviews
Language is who we are. It has been our constant companion
throughout human history. And it shapes us as much as we shape it.
In fact, language has such a profound impact on us that it
affects our bodies. Your mother tongue determines the way your tongue rests in
your mouth and how the delicate organs in your throat sit while still (this
concept is called the ‘basis of articulation’ for those curious).
Learning a second language can also reshape the brain,
forging new pathways in your grey matter. Becoming multilingual can bring you
closer to others and closer to yourself, boosting memory, creativity and
communication skills.
Of course, language is how we all interact – how we get to
know each other, how we fall in love, how we argue, how we work, and how we
build communities.
Language is magical. It is powerful. It is liberating.
And for LGBTQ+ communities around the world, language has proven to be lifesaving and life changing.
But first, a note
As in our recent Beyond the Rainbow report,
this article will use the catch-all terms ‘queer’ and ‘LGBTQ+’ to refer to
those who don’t exclusively identify as heterosexual and cisgender.
It’s important to acknowledge this because language is fluid
and complex, and while a certain word may be accepted at large, it may cause
others harm. We acknowledge that the word ‘queer’ has previously been used as a
slur, but also that – through a concerted effort to reclaim the word – many of
us now use it to refer to and celebrate our identities. These terms used here
should only be interpreted as such.
We hope that this piece highlights both the importance and
impermanence of language and encourages healthy discussion around its use.
The not-so-secret language of gay Britain
If you live in a country like the UK, the US or Canada
today, it might be hard to imagine a time in which being ‘out’ could land you
in prison – or worse. But the truth is that historical repression of LGBTQ+
identities is not that far behind us. In fact, it could easily be argued, it
never quite left.
Even as recently as 2003, with the removal of Section 28
from the UK statute books, queer expression and queer lives in the UK have been
threatened.
The 19th century was an even tougher time to be gay.
Homosexual activity was still explicitly illegal in Britain, despite the
presence of countless queer folk up and down the country.
Naturally, making something illegal doesn’t mean it disappears,
and there is no way to erase something as core to personhood as sexuality or
gender identity. And so, then-illegal homosexual acts were still enjoyed,
subcultures were still constructed, and queer love was still celebrated. The
community just had to be a bit inventive.
The secret power of many gay 19th-century Britons was a
slang language called Polari.
Italian speakers will instantly recognise the origin of the
name: parlare (to speak). They may also be able to understand a few words from
Polari’s vast dictionary. After all, the language likely developed from another
older constructed language called Parlyaree, one used between sailors on the
Mediterranean.
The Polari still used in Britain to this day is a theatrical
blending of Romance languages, Romani, Yiddish, rhyming slang, and the sayings
of sailors, thieves and beggars. It would later also take on some of the
terminology of 60s drug culture.
But back in the days of criminalised homosexuality, the
language was a code, a signal, and a defence all in one.
To escape the ever-watchful eye and long arm of the law, gay
people across Britain would discuss their days, plans and hook-ups in Polari.
By doing so, undercover police and outsiders were kept out of queer spaces, or
at least at a distance, allowing those in the space to live their lives in
relative safety.
The ‘secret language’ of Polari can be thought of a mobile,
intangible and joyful safe space for queer people in 19th and 20th century
England. But, like all languages, Polari has transformed over time – and with
it, the boundaries of that safe space.
The slang of gay subcultures in London and Manchester broke
into the mainstream.
From near-criminal to totally camp
Can you translate any the Polari words in these sentences?
There’s a good chance you can, especially if you’ve spent any time in the UK.
Your hair can look naff if you haven’t had the chance to
zhoosh it up yet. And if someone you’ve been checking out ogles you back while
you’re looking a bit manky, it’s probably time to scarper.
Fantabulosa, right?
Polari is just fun! It’s no surprise, then, that it is being
revived in a number of major UK cities. However, we can’t forget that its use
throughout history hasn’t always been quite so light-hearted.
With the decriminalisation of homosexual acts in England and
Wales in 1967, Polari was no longer strictly necessary. In fact, it was
beginning to seem a bit naff itself.
Acceptance of Polari, and the queer communities that spoke
it, grew as shows like Round the Horne brought the slang to the mainstream.
Kenneth Williams broadcast his Polari-infused radio and TV performances to
millions of listeners throughout the 50s and 60s and, soon, Polari had
well-and-truly escaped its original context.
The language made its way across the pond rather quickly.
Barely half a century later, outrageous filmmaker John Waters was glorifying
camp and the cast of Queer Eye for the Straight Guy were zhooshing up hopeless
romantics for huge audiences.
Although Polari has largely dissolved into the gooey
solution of our popular culture, it doesn’t mean its impact isn’t still being
felt. It’s plain to see from the survival of key phrases that Polari continues
to have an influence on queer culture – and much more besides.
But new forms of expression are needed for new time.
Voguing in vogue
Around the same time that Polari was falling out of fashion
in Britain’s queer community, a movement was being born. Crystal and Lottie
LaBeija founded the House of LaBeija in 1972 and kickstarted the modern New
York City Ballroom scene.
The House of LaBeija took the reins away from previously
discriminatory, white-run drag balls that had been taking place across America
since the 1800s. Instead, this evolved style of drag ball encouraged Black
performers to take the stage, dress to impress, vogue and show realness.
The Ballroom scenes of New York, Washington DC, and other
major US cities were hot beds of talent and invention, transforming the lives
of predominantly African American and Latino queer performers. These
communities opened up vital conversations around HIV/AIDS in an era of deadly
silence and created forms of dance and drag performance that have literally
reshaped how we see the artform in general.
But perhaps one of its most lasting contributions to queer
culture was a new language: the language of the Ballroom.
If you’ve ever ‘thrown shade’, told someone to ‘work it’ on
the dancefloor, or asked a friend ‘spill the tea’ about a poor date, then
you’ve been speaking it. Like Polari, Ballroom dialect has become a way for
queer people to reach into shared cultural history and create a unique identity
in an increasingly complex world.
The language of the Ballroom has long since gone mainstream
thanks, at least in part, to the influence of one RuPaul. And RuPaul, in turn,
was inspired by one of the founders of modern Ballroom culture. The ‘Queen of
Drag’ got one of his first tastes of the artform in Atlanta, watching none
other than Crystal LaBeija lip sync Donna Summer’s ‘Bad Girls’.
RuPaul’s Drag Race has certainly had an outsized impact on
public perceptions of drag and queer identities in general. It was, perhaps,
the first time a TV show with a wide audience openly celebrated queer culture.
It introduced new generations to a long history of art and artists, including
the legendary Ballroom scene documentary Paris is Burning. It also, no doubt,
helped countless young folk across the world find comfort and camaraderie in
their identity.
As the ‘Beyond the Rainbow’ report reveals, the presence of
queer media in our lives, with all its linguistic and stylistic quirks,
normalises and changes attitudes around LGBTQ+ lives. For all the controversies
and conversations around shows like Drag Race, having queer influencers appearing
prominently in media is, of course, good thing.
Thanks to the House of LaBeija and those that it inspired,
we now have a brand-new lexicon of queer language to work with, one that
connects generations to a vibrant shared history.
But is this language sashaying away, out of the hands of those who created it?
The political, the personal, and the commercial
Polari was once a secret language, spoken almost entirely
within the confines of British queer culture. Similarly, the language of the
Ballroom was highly contextualised within a drag scene run by African American
and Latino performers. Yet both have now entered the mainstream – and even been
outright commodified.
Today, it’s hard to explore Twitter, TikTok, YouTube or TV
without coming across a ‘yass queen’ or a ‘slay’ spoken by someone who might
not necessarily identify under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. The aesthetics of queer
culture have – after decades of repression – not only been accepted, but have
become fashionable, desirable and influential to a broad section of the
population.
This transformation should be something to celebrate, but
the truth is that not everyone is happy with non-LGBTQ+ people or – more
controversially – brands utilising queer language. There is a fine line between
‘appreciation’ and ‘appropriation’, after all.
While a non-LGBTQ+ person may ‘yassify’ their way of
speaking without having to worry about much more than how their TikTok
following will react, a queer person doing the same thing may be subject to
discrimination, or even harm. The very fact that there is now a term like
‘yassification’ speaks to the run-away popularisation of queer language and
acceptance of a ‘queer aesthetic’.
Writer John Paul Brammer has previously provided one example
of where we could draw the line:
Defining cultural appropriation isn't easy. Typically,
it's used when members of a dominant group borrow the customs of another group,
often one that's experienced oppression in some way. Drawing the line is tough.
But it becomes offensive when a powerful group trivializes the work of a
minority without giving credit where credit is due.
The language, slang, and codes we use are not just a
personal choice, they are an inheritance from cultures and groups that came
before us.
Language of any kind is politically charged – the way you
speak can impact your access to employment, healthcare, social spaces and even
basic dignity.
Once you understand these realities, it becomes easier to
see why the use of LGBTQ+ languages outside of their original contexts can be
controversial.
LGBTQ+ people are particularly suspicious of brands that
adopt queer language and aesthetics, especially those that only seem to do so
during key moments of the year. The ‘Beyond the Rainbow’ report highlights that
such acts are incredibly transparent, likely doing more harm than good.
74% of LGBTQ+ respondents said that representation in
advertising had visibly increased in recent years, but 3 out of 4 say that
brands should do more to support their community outside of now-typical Pride
month gestures. Brands must move away from stereotypes and hollow use of queer
styles and, instead, work in closer collaboration with LGBTQ+ communities and
creators.
By genuinely understanding and serving the needs of LGBTQ+
communities, brands, influencers and the public at large can all more confidently
rest on the ‘appreciation’ side of the fine line.
Celebrating the evolution of language
Language – like culture in general – is incredibly dynamic.
There’s just no way to pin it down, no way to ‘own’ a language, and no way to
prevent those outside a specific group from adopting it.
We can see how queer culture has already broken its own
boundaries in the fact that 60% of non-LGBTQ+ people report seeking out queer
media (rising to 85% among non-LGBTQ+ 18-24 year olds). Queer languages and
styles are no longer relegated to London’s gay subcultures or Harlem Ballrooms.
Instead, they are available to, and enjoyed by, all who seek them out.
Authentic appreciation of queer languages and styles serves
to change public perceptions even more towards the positive. Acceptance
generally comes through exposure, after all. We just need to ensure that queer
voices continue playing the leading role in the speaking of queer language.
As the world continues to embrace LGBTQ+ languages and
styles, it becomes even more important for us to understand where they came
from.
We can’t forget the reasons behind their creation, nor can
we forget who originally used them. We must all appreciate and support the
people behind the language, not just the language itself.
And we must all work towards a world where no one needs a
‘secret language’ just to feel safe again.