Reaching the Queer Community

What drew me to this photo as a young teenager and what brings me back now is the way this cover speaks to my own lesbian identity. I felt connected to it in an amorphous way then, but now I can see all of the ways in which queerness is layered upon this image. It’s a piece of art created by and for queer people, circulated in the mainstream. It exists because queer people came together, not just for the creation of this image, but for all of the images and pieces of media that came before it. A fundamental part of what makes this photo so interesting is its place in a history of queer, specifically lesbian, representation and its lasting connection to this community.

In the 70s, lesbian representation became “hand-holding, flannel shirt wearing women… romping through daisy fields, their long hair flowing in the breeze,” (Malmud). This desexed portrayal of lesbians can also be found in some pretty terrible movies. It seems as though certain tropes persist; poorly written lesbians are either predatory and overtly sexual, or perfectly innocent ladies who have never even considered anything more than holding hands or perhaps a chaste peck. The 80s and 90s marked a shift in lesbian representation, as a result of increased media attention and public interest into the world of lesbians (Malmud). It is worth noting that a majority of lesbian representation, certainly then and persisting now, is composed almost entirely of white women. This is not to say that there have been zero works of popular lesbian representation, (I’d be very surprised to find someone who’s never heard of Audre Lorde), but much of this media is filtered through the palatable lens of white femininity.

The 90s particularly experienced a saturation of hyperfeminine lesbian representation. Still often white, these women were depicted “not as drab separatists or fierce butch dykes but as stars, lipstick lesbians, glamour dykes, and femmes” (Cvetkovich 300). This kind of lesbian representation is known as “lesbian chic,” a more palatable or mainstream understanding of queer women. Lesbian chic was received controversially by many lesbians at this time, as it draws “on conventional portrayals of femininity to privilege the image of feminine lesbianism at the expense of masculine lesbianism” (Elliott). Lesbian chic is a way of portraying lesbianism by disrupting as few norms as possible. It’s possible to consider this type of representation as positive, by allowing lesbians access to representation, creating an image of these women which is still considered “sexy,” though they aren’t attracted to men. I am not personally convinced. 

Do not mistake k.d. lang’s Vanity Fair cover as an example of lesbian chic. Cindy Crawford might be dressed in a very hyperfeminine, hypersexualized way, but the focus is still on lang. Instead, in this photo and throughout lang’s career, “she has found ways to make butch lesbianism the material for glamour photography” (Cvetkovich 302). One of the reasons that lang is such a compelling subject for this photo, especially in the early 90s, is her “photogenic power [which] is especially notable because it has not required that she hide her lesbianism or become feminine” (Cvetkovich 302). lang has no interest in being palatable, there is no push in this image to depict lang as anything other than a butch lesbian. This image might be stylized, but it goes directly against lesbian chic by embracing lang’s genuine masculinity.

It is the unfiltered portrayal of lang’s masculinity and the bold depiction of queer women and lesbian attraction that makes this photo connect so deeply with the queer community. Lesbians as a whole have not had many instances of positive representation, or representation at all. Many depictions adhere to lesbian chic, which leaves out most lesbian experiences. Butch identities are so rarely represented, much less celebrated, and this photo manages to do that. One way of understanding the deep significance this photo holds for queer people is through its multiple recreations, but we’ll spend time with just two.

Both of these recreations are, like the original photo, made by and for queer people, capturing the original spirit behind the cover that persists to this day. Not only was this  Vanity Fair cover made as a part of a long history of queer art and representation, but it inspires more work still. These cover recreations are reactions to the original photo, these artists connected to it so much that they felt moved to creation. It is the boldness, the unashamed depiction of a stylized and glamorous queerness captured in this Vanity Fair cover that resonates with so many. The unabashed claim to self and queer joy secures this photo as a cultural landmark.