a&e features
The business of performing at Pride
Show me the money: Crowds expect big names but most events are non-profits
Icona Pop perform at the 2013 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade file photo by Tyler Grigsby)
When asked why she made Pittsburgh the site of her first Pride appearance in 2012 as opposed to a trendier city, out rocker Melissa Etheridge was matter of fact: “Pittsburgh showed me the money,” she told the crowd to a huge round of applause.
In retrospect, though, it wasn’t the stretch it might have seemed at first glance. Despite her industry cred as a Grammy-winning soul rocker with enough pop sensibility to have secured an impressive run of radio hits in the ‘90s, Etheridge has always projected a rootsy, blue-collar vibe much the same way Bruce Springsteen and John Mellencamp have straddled the heartland/A-lister fence for decades on end. And yet, for Pittsburgh Pride, it was a huge moment.
“She really was up there just preaching and having fun,” says Gary Van Horn, president of the board of the Delta Foundation of Pittsburgh, the agency that produces Pittsburgh Pride. “She used the pulpit and she was speaking to her people.”
Van Horn says Etheridge was contracted to do a 75-minute set but ended up playing for about two-and-a-half hours. And although details of her contract are protected, as is the industry norm, by a confidentiality clause, Van Horn says he didn’t find her fee outrageous considering she travels with 11 people counting band members and manager, whose travel and hotel expenses have to be paid. After deciding in 2006 to move Pittsburgh Pride downtown and have a big-name headliner give a full concert-length set for which patrons would have to purchase tickets, Van Horn says he and his team couldn’t have been more pleased with Etheridge’s set.
“At the end of the day, I would be very, very shocked if she cleared more than thousands of dollars just knowing she had to pay everybody,” he says. “There is a thought process out there that they should be doing this for free since it’s a non-profit Pride event, but this is their job. This is how they pay their bills, they go and perform. Obviously it’s important to do charity work sometimes, but there are over 120 Pride events in the U.S. that I know of and we’re only talking about a handful of artists that are even remotely available to that group and the same handful of folks at every Pride organization wants them, so to just expect them to do it for free is just not feasible. We showed her the money because she needed to have that.”
The behind-the-scenes business of bringing celebrity entertainers in to perform at Pride events — historically seen as a stage for either up-and-comers or past-their-prime acts that haven’t had hits in years but to whom gay men have been traditionally loyal — is a dicey discussion. Obviously everybody wants to dream big and hope for a legend, but there are many factors involved: tour schedules, riders, appearance fees, whether the show is free or requires a ticket and more. Because the Capital Pride Festival is a free event, few would expect somebody of Beyonce’s caliber would be willing to give a free two-hour show. That hasn’t, however, stopped organizers — many of whom, like Van Horn, are volunteers — from exploring how many branches up the higher-hanging fruit sits.
“Of course I would always aim high and then get shot back down,” says Steve Henderson, a Capital Pride volunteer who worked for 17 years (his last year was 2013) on the entertainment planning committee. “Unless they were going for a pro bono show, we would never be able to get a Gaga, Britney or Madonna-like act. Not while it’s a free festival. Gaga is a minimum $1 million plus more riders than Pride could ever handle. She also required a 10-truck load in and performance rehearsals weeks in advance, which we cannot do since the stage is installed the evening of the festival. That has been the problem with the ‘A grade’ headliners.”
Henderson says he worked for years on a shoestring budget of about $15,000-20,000 at most for the day, a figure that had to include traveling expenses, lodging and everything. As you might imagine, most of the entertainers who play throughout the day on the Capital Pride main stage — the Gay Men’s Chorus, the drag cast at Ziegfeld’s, emcees such as Destiny Childs, etc. — donate their time. Corporate sponsorships and partnerships have given current organizers bigger budgets, he says. Ryan Bos, Capital Pride executive director, says he’s not allowed to disclose the budget for headliners.
Despite the challenges, Henderson, who now lives in Chicago, has many good memories and says he’s proud of the many acts they brought in over the years — RuPaul in 2009, Chely Wright in 2010, Deborah Cox in 2012 and Cher Lloyd, Emeli Sande and Icona Pop in 2013 and more.
Cher Lloyd performs at the 2013 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade file photo by Tyler Grigsby)
He says only two acts ever cancelled — Mya gave about three weeks’ notice citing a skiing accident in 2010. Chely Wright had just come out and was happy to fill in. The biggest nail biter, Henderson says, was Kelly Rowland’s 2011 cancellation about a week before the event. His years of working as a DJ with various record labels was always a help, but especially then, he says. Broadway belter Jennifer Holliday, who’d just sung with the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington the week before, saved the day.
“I didn’t really have time to freak out, I just had to figure out who we were gonna get,” Henderson says. “Thankfully I knew Jennifer from past work and I literally called her within a minute of it happening. She was somebody we had discussed about being a headliner or a co-headliner but we didn’t have the budget to do both. We had landed Kelly, which was pretty huge since her song was so big at the time, we really felt we had a winner.”
Henderson says her camp gave no reason for the abrupt cancellation.
“It was just a real quick e-mail. ‘Sorry, not-gonna-be-able-to-make-it’-type thing. No reason.”
Bos says three years ago the team that now plans main stage entertainment opted for a different approach and now bring in three co-headliners who each perform 25-35-minute sets to give the event more of a festival concert-type feel.
“We did it to diversify, to set ourselves apart a little and to not throw all the eggs in one basket,” he says.
This year’s concert, co-presented with radio station Hot 99.5, will feature En Vogue, Wilson Phillips, Amber and Carly Rae Jepsen. He says ‘90s acts like the former two were purposefully chosen to dovetail with this year’s Flashback theme as it’s the 40th anniversary of Capital Pride. Last year’s lineup was Karmin, Bonnie McKee, DJ Cassidy and Betty Who.
Betty Who performs at the 2014 Capital Pride Festival. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)
And while there will always be a spot for yesterday’s hit makers at various Pride events — one recalls Inaya Day (“Nasty Girl”) who played Capital Pride in 2010 or Taylor Dayne (“Tell it to My Heart”) who’s found new life headlining Prides all over the Eastern Seaboard — Bos says the notion that Pride is a place for washed-up divas of yesteryear is an anachronism.
“I think that’s an old perception,” he says. “For artists who are trying to launch an album, Pride provides an opportunity to get in front of a huge community. For those who have been around a while, they know the support from the gay community so they see it as a way to give back, but that perception has been shifting for a while now and you see it at other Prides as well.”
Michael Musto, gay author and Musto! the Musical! columnist at out.com, agrees.
“It used to be unfairly thought of as a dubious career move to do Pride-related events, but as LGBT became more accepted, so did Pride,” he told the Blade. “Once big names started performing at the Pier dance after the parade here in New York City (for big money of course), there was no stigma at all. They can also work the parade itself or do any number of things around the country for Pride and it’s considered a good move for all involved.”
Van Horn says the caliber of talent at Pittsburgh Pride started an uptick after they brought in Tiffany in 2006 and Kimberley Locke in 2007. In recent years, besides Etheridge, they’ve brought in top acts like Adam Lambert and Patti LaBelle. This year’s headliner is Iggy Azalea.
He says overall the community understands and established acts like Etheridge and LaBelle bring in their own fan bases, people who ordinarily wouldn’t attend Pride.
“Of course, yeah, everybody wants Cher or Cyndi Lauper or J. Lo or Beyonce but they have to be realistic,” Van Horn says. “They’re in high demand and they get paid a lot. We have a list that continually gets updated via committee and we get suggestions from the community and then we start putting feelers out there with agents and management companies.”
He also says there are a bounty of expenses involved in bringing in household names that the general public would never think of such as the logistics of building a downtown stage for a one-off, lights, power, security, portable toilets, fencing, clean-up services — all in addition to the event itself. The Delta Foundation has one paid staff member and a host of volunteers.
“You’re a victim of your own success in a way,” he says. “You continue to attract more and more people and yet it’s also up to you to make sure they’re all safe and provided for as well. Our Sunday event attracts about 90,000 people so you have to make sure they’re all safe, have food to eat and drink throughout the day, the tents, tables and chairs — you have to provide all that.”
So what’s it like from the other side? Are there any unwritten industry rules for playing Pride events among artists and managers?
Howard Bragman, a gay PR veteran of Fifteen Minutes who’s worked with many LGBT acts, says not really. Several acts in his stable will be at various Prides this year including Chaz Bono who will appear at Toronto Pride with Lauper and Pussy Riot, and Ty Herndon who’s slated for Chicago Pride.
“I think it depends on the person and the moment,” Bragman says. “Somebody ends up in the news and comes out and suddenly all the Prides come after you. It’s a great honor. Even when they have to say no, it’s a great honor because you’re representing a community. … Nobody is offended. It’s a totally flattering moment.”
He says in New York and Los Angeles, where celebrities often live, it’s not uncommon for them to donate their time but if travel is involved, most Pride organizers know they’ll have to pay.
“It just depends,” he says. “But inevitably, yeah, it’s a family rate, it’s not their top-dollar corporate rate and for these people who have speaking engagements, generally it’s not just come in and ride in the parade for two hours. You come in the Friday before, there’s a reception, there are many interviews, sometimes on Saturday you cut the ribbon at the festival and then there’s the parade on Sunday. It’s a lot of work, but the best ones are the ones that are well organized and have been doing it a long time. Those are the ones they’re the happiest to do.”
Van Horn says it’s practically impossible to gauge how close Pride fees jell with rates the same artist would require for a regular appearance. Pride sets are typically much shorter than a normal show.
“There isn’t much data available on how much people pay for an artist because it’s all confidential,” he says. “Like at New York City Pride when Cher came out and sang four songs (in 2013), I know what Cher gets paid and I know New York City Pride wasn’t paying her typical fee.”
Cher performs at New York Pride’s ‘Dance on the Pier’ in 2013. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)
Out singer-songwriter Eric Himan has played many Pride events since his first in South Florida in 2002. Now based in Tulsa, Okla., happily married and promoting his new album “Playing Cards,” he says Pride events have changed radically over the last decade or so.
“The thing about Pride is that Pride means something different to everybody and so every organizer has a different approach,” he says. “For some, it’s a rally. For others, it’s a day to get away from politics and just enjoy being out. The trajectory of how much Pride has changed from being something in the park that only gay people go to, to moving downtown and incorporating a lot of businesses and corporate sponsorships so it’s not just the gay bars sponsoring it, I’ve definitely noticed that change. So when you go in, you have to find out from the organizer what their idea of Pride is. I always viewed it as an opportunity to go be in my community and voice my ideas and concerns about how gay people fit into the world however you might go and everybody just wants a big dance party so you have to think about how you’re going to fit into that as the acoustic, live musician.”
He says there have been times the mid-tier musicians get shafted when various Pride committees spend the bulk of their budget to bring in a name act.
“Sometimes I’m glad to donate things, like CDs for a raffle or something like that,” he says. “My only concern is when I find out, ‘Oh hey, we just spent 80 grand on yada yada but will you play for free?,’ that’s kind of when I’m like, ‘That doesn’t seem correct.’ … When you go spend all your money on one person you wanted to bring, that’s when I get nervous about being a part of it.”
Playing for the exposure is a common bone some organizers toss, he says.
“Sometimes that’s OK but exposure is something you can’t really promise. What if it gets rained out that day? Well, there goes your exposure. Or what if the main act is at 12 that night, but they stick you on a stage next to it at 11 a.m.? Early on when you’re starting out as a musician, you don’t play for much money so the exposure works, but I’ve always found the times I’ve really gotten the best exposure have always been at paid gigs. I can’t recall one gig where they promised exposure and it was like, ‘Oh god, it worked out.’”
Eric Himan performs at the Capital Pride Festival in 2013. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)
Henderson gets that but says over his 17-year tenure at Capital Pride, he guesses 70-80 percent of the acts, especially the community groups, donated their time.
“I had long-running relationships with a lot of these labels, so I was able to negotiate a lot of pro bono stuff,” he says. “Icona Pop was pro bono. So was Consuelo Costin and obviously all the local people like the Gay Men’s Chorus, the D.C. Cowboys and all the local favorites. They all came in to donate their time and production and give up half of their afternoon on a steaming hot Sunday.”
He also says the role of the Pride entertainment committee volunteer chair is a thankless job. He got involved as a “way to give back” but says it can easily ramp up into a second full-time job in the months leading up to Pride. He also says working by committee has a downside as well.
“We lost out on some really big ones over the years waiting for the board to make a decision,” Henderson says. “I wasn’t the one making the final decision and a couple times they waited too long and we lost out. Foster the People, Imagine Dragons and Diana Ross to name a few.”
Van Horn says all the artists he’s worked with have been easy and he has “no horror stories.”
“They always have safety and security concerns but that’s understandable,” he says. “There are crazies in the world. But no, there have never been any requests for M&Ms but take out all the blue ones or anything like that.”
Henderson says the hardest part of the job was always keeping things running smoothly backstage where there are only three cooled dressing room/trailers. Making sure they’re clean and free for who needs them at any given time is tough, he says.
“There’s always something going on like (local drag legend) Ella (Fitzgerald) shows up early and there’s no dressing room ready so her whole face melts off in the 100-degree heat,” he says with a laugh. “Getting the headliners from the hotel to the backstage area to making sure they had a dressing room ready and clean especially when you have 40-50 entertainers throughout the day, those logistics were always the hardest part.”
But on the occasions where it worked, there were magical moments. Henderson says when Pepper MaShay sang the “Dive in the Pool” song from “Queer as Folk” at the 2012 event with its famous line “Let’s get soaking wet,” the fire department’s decision to spray the crowd was not planned.
“It was probably 105 degrees that day and they were there to have some water stations so people could cool off because it was just so hot,” he says. “Ironically they had put this big main hose on a ladder truck maybe about 10 minutes before Pepper went on so we ran over to the fire chief and said it would be kind of neat if you could spray the crowd when she sang that line. When it happened, everybody thought it was pre-planned but we just decided that minutes before. People were dancing and going crazy. It was fantastic.”
Bragman says he always encourages his celebrity clients to do Prides anytime they can and says the payoff isn’t always in dollars.
“Pride is always a big deal,” he says. “It’s really powerful. I always say go with the right attitude, go and have fun and you will be changed. You always go home with so much more than you gave, that’s just the nature of the beast. It’s such an emotional high.”
Chely Wright performs at the Capital Pride Festival in 2010. (Washington Blade file photo by Michael Key)
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The mastery of love
The world knows Eric Anderson as Billy Porter’s partner, but in Rehoboth Beach, he has a story entirely his own
The world knows Eric Anderson as Billy Porter’s partner. In Rehoboth Beach, Del., he has a life — and a story — entirely his own.
My first time with Eric Anderson was hot — very hot. Before he arrived, I sat waiting, overthinking everything. When he finally appeared in a loose-fitting T-shirt and purple shorts, I understood why he attracts attention. Eric is the kind of man who changes the energy of a room simply by entering it.
After a quick hello, we got right to it. Techno pulsed through the room as Eric told me how to move, where to place my hands, when to breathe. My heart pounded. My muscles ached. I bent, twisted, and stretched while sweat ran down my back and burned my eyes. I didn’t bother wiping it away.
To be clear, Eric and I were not alone. Five other people were with us — and the yoga studio at SoulFire Collective in Rehoboth Beach was heated to 87 degrees.
“If you are always racing toward the next moment, what happens to the one you’re in?” Eric asked, opening his power yoga class and inviting us to leave whatever had followed us through the door and surrender to the present. Surrender did not come easily. At 58, I’ve done enough yoga to know the difference between discomfort and imminent death. Halfway through Eric’s relentless flow, the distinction began to blur.
A playlist of techno and remixed pop — including “Live Like You Were Dying” — carried us from one demanding pose to the next. Eric moved among the mats with the energy of a nightclub DJ and the calm of someone who trusted our bodies to go further than our minds believed possible. Nearly an hour later, when the music softened and I collapsed onto my back in savasana, he laid a cool cloth across my forehead. I exhaled — relieved, and maybe a little disappointed, that my first time with Eric was over.
At the end of my mat, a handwritten note congratulated me on my first class and invited me back — a small benediction after the storm. Then Eric closed the class by repeating the question with which he’d opened. For a man whose relationship with actor and singer Billy Porter has drawn him unexpectedly into the public eye, it sounded less like a yoga mantra than a personal creed.
The next time I meet Eric, there is air conditioning and caffeine. We are at Starbucks, where I deliberately order the largest drinks available, as though volume alone might buy me more time. He chooses a matcha, and I order herbal tea. My heart is pounding again, faster than the soft rock drifting from the speakers above us. Although I’ve already spent more than an hour with Eric, I know almost nothing about the man I’m about to interview.
Neither, it seems, does anyone else.
Celebrity outlets offer a handful of biographical details: a Rehoboth Beach teacher and yoga instructor with a master’s degree from Columbia University. Gay publications have been less restrained. One introduced him as Billy Porter’s “total hot stud,” called him “a snacc,” and praised his ability to “rock a Speedo.” Queerty distilled Eric’s identity to five words: “Porter is dating a teacher.”
All of it tells me how the world sees him. None of it tells me who he is.
I know from our text exchanges that Eric is slammed for time. He is scheduled to travel to New York later that day and fly to WorldPride Amsterdam the following afternoon. Billy is among the headliners for the opening-night Unity Concert and is also slated to perform at the Wedding Party XXL alongside KI/KI, Bimini, and the Vengaboys. Eric still has to pack. This, I’m beginning to understand, is part of loving someone famous: there is almost always an itinerary, another city, and a specific time and place Billy needs to be. Even here, with two untouched drinks between us, the clock is ticking.
As soon as we sit down, I open my laptop, ready to get to work. My mind is focused on the list of questions I’ve prepared, and I’ve already anticipated the shape of most of his responses. Then I look up and see Eric sitting perfectly still, smiling, and taking in the moment. He hasn’t even taken a sip of his matcha yet.
I quietly close my laptop and breathe.
Within minutes, the interview softens into a conversation.
Eric earned a bachelor’s degree in history from the University of Delaware and a master’s in public school leadership from Teachers College, Columbia University. He began his career teaching mathematics before moving into school administration, eventually serving as vice president of the Charter School of Wilmington and head of school at Sussex Academy. Today, he teaches mathematics and social studies in the Cape Henlopen School District. He also coaches soccer and leads yoga classes at SoulFire Collective in Rehoboth Beach.
His return to the classroom was deliberate. Eric knows some people assumed there must be a story behind his leaving administration—that he had done something wrong or that teaching represented a demotion.
“I want to make it clear that I went back to teaching by choice,” he says.
As a child, Eric played school. Teaching has always felt natural to him, less like an occupation than an expression of who he is. Administration was different.
“It felt like work,” he says. “It wasn’t where my passion was, and it didn’t bring me joy. Going back into the classroom was simply me choosing joy.”
The more Eric talks, the clearer it becomes that teaching is not merely a job but a vocation. His mother is white and his father is Black, and growing up biracial was not always easy. “I saw the best and the worst of both,” he tells me. Those experiences helped shape his desire to become a teacher — to be the kind of person who could make a meaningful difference in a young person’s life.
Just then, Eric glances over his shoulder and locks eyes with someone across the room. He waves and flashes what is quickly becoming his signature smile. My first thought is that someone has recognized him as Billy Porter’s partner.
I’m wrong. It’s one of his former students.
Inevitably, our conversation turns to love — and to Billy. I’ve made it clear that I’m here to write about Eric, not Billy Porter. But separating the two entirely would be as artificial as defining Eric only by their relationship. Billy is now an essential part of his story.
Eric met Billy at a Christmas party hosted by mutual friends who had been trying to introduce them all night. It wasn’t easy — the party was crowded, and the two men never quite crossed paths. Eric stayed for the afterparty, where a friend nudged him and nodded toward the room: Billy was looking his way. Romance never crossed his mind.
Eventually, they started talking. Eric has never had much patience for small talk, and he wasn’t interested in cataloging which celebrities Billy knew. He skipped it entirely and went straight for the deeper questions — what Billy believed, how he saw the world, what mattered to him. They ended up at the kitchen table, trading life philosophies until 5 a.m.
What struck Eric most wasn’t the conversation’s length. It was its depth. Billy wasn’t who he expected. Neither was the conversation. By the time the sun was coming up, Eric was less surprised that they’d talked all night than by how much, it turned out, they had in common.
They had dinner the following evening, and Billy invited Eric to spend the weekend with him in New York. There, Billy took him to see Nicole Scherzinger in “Sunset Boulevard.” Right before the show started, he casually introduced Eric to a friend named Katy. Back in their seats, Eric asked how Billy knew her.
“BITCH,” Billy replied, “that is Miss K-A-T-Y P-E-R-R-Y!”
For all the glamour surrounding their courtship, Eric describes the foundation of their relationship in decidedly spiritual terms. His favorite book is don Miguel Ruiz’s The Mastery of Love, which explores how fear, expectation, and the need for approval can distort relationships. Its philosophy closely resembles Eric’s own.
On the surface, Eric and Billy inhabit different worlds. Eric is a deeply spiritual teacher rooted in a small coastal Delaware town. Billy is a celebrated actor and performer whose larger-than-life persona commands stages around the world. But when I ask Eric how the relationship works, he doesn’t hesitate.
“I know that I can be my authentic self with him, and he can be his with me,” he says. “We love each other unconditionally.”
The words could sound rehearsed. Coming from Eric, they don’t.
The red carpets, famous faces, and international travel are not what matter most.
“It’s all about the people,” he explains. “I love Billy’s family and friends, and he loves mine.”
Authenticity surfaces repeatedly in our conversation — not as an abstract ideal, but as Eric’s determination to trust what feels right for him, even when other people may not understand it. I tell him about growing up in Pittsburgh and spending much of my life trying to fit the person I was into the person the world expected me to be. Eric listens intently, then pauses before responding.
“Fuck the system.”
It is blunt, funny, and entirely consistent with the man sitting across from me. Dating Billy may have dramatically increased the number of strangers who have opinions about Eric, but it hasn’t increased the number whose opinions matter to him. He is remarkably unconcerned with what people he doesn’t know think — or say — about him. The attention is new. His response to it is not.
For Eric, authenticity isn’t about asking the world for permission to be yourself. It’s about deciding that permission was never the world’s to give.
That instinct—to look inward rather than outward for permission — predates Billy.
Eric initially turned to yoga for a practical reason: he wanted to improve his physical performance on the soccer field. It didn’t take long for him to realize that something else was happening. Yoga was strengthening his body, but it was also grounding him.
Over time, the physical practice became inseparable from the mental one. The poses, the heat, even the strength required to hold his body in place became less important than learning how to quiet the noise around him, stay present, and listen to himself. The man who had pushed me through an hour of sweat and discomfort wasn’t simply teaching people how to move their bodies. He was asking them to practice something he had learned to do himself.
That sense of being grounded has become particularly important in a relationship that often requires two people to live very different lives. Eric is quick to point out that he and Billy have separate careers, separate ambitions, and goals entirely their own. Neither expects the other to abandon an individual life simply because they have chosen to build a relationship together.
When Billy left for London to star in “Cabaret,” distance became part of their routine. They FaceTimed every day, a practice they continue whenever they are apart.
“I tell Billy everything,” Eric says.
Being authentic with Billy doesn’t require the two men to become more alike. If anything, the opposite seems true. They are comfortable following their own career paths, living separate lives when circumstances require it, and giving each other the freedom to pursue what matters individually. Then they come back together — not because either has put his own life on hold, but because they have chosen to share those lives with each other.
When we finally look at the time, nearly 90 minutes have passed. Eric still needs to pack. New York is waiting, Amsterdam after that, and somewhere there is undoubtedly an itinerary telling Billy exactly where he needs to be and when.
But for a while, neither of us was racing toward the next moment.
We were fully inside the one we were in.
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What ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy’ can still teach us
Producer David Collins on lasting impact of hit series
It’s hard to imagine where LGBTQ+ television would be without “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy,” the trailblazing reality series that premiered in 2003.
Each episode of this Emmy-winning show saw a group of gays converge on a struggling man — the titular straight guy — and offer nonstop wit while organizing his endlessly messy life. This program about a group of homosexual helpers took the world by storm, furthering the love of gay television begun by shows like “Will and Grace” but bringing it into the growing medium of reality TV. Of course, it wasn’t perfect; “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” often cast its experts less as multi-faceted queer folks and more as sources of early 2000s gay jokes. But despite these pitfalls, it’s undeniable that the original program explored the realities of being gay in a way audiences had never seen before. It was a monumental piece of LGBTQ+ representation, and its success is largely owed to the man who fought to get this show made: producer David Collins.
Collins spoke with the Blade from his Los Angeles home, where he’s spent the past few years living with his husband and his two daughters. David spoke fondly of his many years in the industry, detailing how it feels to be such a huge part of LGBTQ+ history. He explained, however, that he didn’t initially set out to alter how queer people were seen on television. “I never went out to make gay television,” said the producer. “I went out to tell great stories.”
“I’m a hillbilly from Ohio, and I thought I was going to be an editor,” David laughed, looking back on his career. “I interned at the Cincinnati Film Office, and I showed up to work my very first day, and the film commissioner was like, ‘Get to the airport right now and pick [someone] up. Don’t talk to them.’ Well, I ended up picking up Jodie Foster.” Collins raved about this car ride that changed his life, with the pair becoming friends and Foster pushing him to become a producer who puts their own media out into the world. Eventually, he did just that, and after learning about the wild new genre that was reality TV, he pitched a series to Bravo: “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.”
“I was obsessed with Esquire magazine, and they had five categories: fashion, grooming, interior design, culture, food, and wine. So I gave them each a gay, and the Fab Five were born!” Collins said, describing how viewers quickly fell in love with the concept and earned the program four seasons and an Emmy for Outstanding Reality Program. He spoke about how proud he felt creating a show that centered real gay people, not characters in a story, remembering, “To stand in the middle of Times Square and look up and see this massive billboard with the original Queer Eye guys…it wasn’t even a dream come true, because it wasn’t a dream I had even fathomed.”
With his series, people were watching actual gay men and learning the realities of a queer culture that had always been portrayed as a danger to society. Collins tearfully recounted hearing about queer people using the show as a way to connect with their family, saying, “What I’m most proud of that’s come out of Queer Eye [are] the conversations that that series has allowed to have people around their kitchen tables with little boys in Ohio like me who were scared to death that they were going to burn in hell because their pastor was telling them that they were a sinner.”
Now, for all of its trailblazing, the program wasn’t wholly positive; the show’s focus on the central ‘straight guy’ meant it rarely delved into the lives of its Fab Five. Collins regretted that lack of depth but understood that earlier audiences weren’t accustomed to such a nuanced look into queerness — that would have to wait for the reboot.
When “Queer Eye” came out in 2018, audiences were introduced to not only a new Fab Five, but a whole new format (that didn’t rely on a straight person). Now, the series would assist queer folks and allies alike, spotlighting these individuals as well as the queer experts helping them improve their lives. The show has been applauded for its amazing makeovers, but where it truly stands out is its representation, offering a look into individuals across the country and the struggles — along with the immense joys — of being queer in America today.
Fans were disappointed to hear that “Queer Eye” would be ending after its 10th season, but David stressed that they wouldn’t have to be sad for long. “What I will say to you is this: hang tight,” he teased. “There’s yet another version of ‘Queer Eye’ to come, and we’re working on that now.” In the meantime, Collins is continuing his work with new shows like the “House of Stassi,” a series centered on “Vanderpump Rules’”prolific waitress. He’s excited about these new projects, but emphasized that his heart will always belong to “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” and all that it continues to do for viewers 19 years after its finale.
“It’s not about your new outfit or your new couch or your new whatever. It’s about your humanity,” said Collins, speaking about the core lesson he hopes people take away from the Queer Eye franchise. “It’s about seeing yourself. It’s about dignity. It’s about how confidence breeds success.”
A valuable message that queer folks can benefit from even more now than they did in 2003. And, while it’s unclear just what lies ahead for this franchise, one thing is for sure: “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy” helped people everywhere understand the power that exists within our queerness. It’s a truth that has impacted countless pieces of LGBTQ+ television today, and it’s one that Collins promises to keep alive through whatever hit show he creates next.
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Jason DePuy on coping with homophobia in ‘Big Brother’ house
First drag queen contestant on CBS show fought to stay positive
One week after Jason DePuy (known as Salina EsTitties on “RuPaul’s Drag Race”) was bullied and eventually evicted from CBS’s “Big Brother” house, the queer drag performer is still emotionally processing his feelings.
During his 24 days in the reality TV competition, DePuy often had a rough time, with fellow cast member Kamuela “Kamu” Kirk making homophobic comments and feeling isolated.
In a conversation with Head of Household Rick Devens, Kirk left viewers upset when he said, “Bro, miss me with the drag stuff. Miss me. I’m still an MMA guy, and I have an image to uphold.”
Former “Big Brother” contestant Frankie Grande called his words ‘homophobic’ and ‘gross.’ Another comment, where Kirk said he wanted to end DePuy’s career, also received strong backlash online.
Now that he is out of the house, DePuy has been shocked and deeply touched by the love from “Big Brother” fans and former contestants. We chatted with DePuy for this Blade exclusive.
“To know that my community was rallying for me outside the house was the most wonderful thing. Seeing how much people were just wanting to shower me with love was incredible. Even my friends, I went to say hi and give them a hug, and they’re like, ‘Uh, uh, come here.’ They had to hold me and let me know America was feeling for me in a way that I had no idea.”
He added: “To see that reality was just overwhelming, and I couldn’t ask for more.”
Known as a messy player in the house, DePuy often had to fight to stay positive and stand up for himself.
“No one was coming to my rescue. In real life, it’s easy to block people, but in the house, I didn’t have that luxury, so I had to find it within myself to learn how to speak up for myself in a way that wasn’t nasty or biting. I didn’t attack anyone personally, which is what I was the most proud of.”
DePuy acknowledged he has had a history of putting his foot in his mouth when it came to certain “Drag Race”moments, being in the public eye, and making a fool of himself. “I’ve learned my lessons; to see how I handled myself in the ‘Big Brother’ house was amazing.”
While DePuy has been sober for 14 and a half years and has a strong spiritual foundation, in the Big Brother house, he often felt like he couldn’t communicate what he was feeling.
“As a queer person, a person of color, a drag queen, I have to be very careful about how I move. I don’t have the luxury or privilege to just act a certain way or say a certain thing. I have to be very careful; I’m representing me. But who I am is a Latino, a person of recovery, a drag queen, a queer person in the community. I know that there’s a lot of pressure that comes with that. I felt it was safer for me to sit there and just breathe than try to do anything crazy.”
He continued: “I couldn’t speak to the personal attack that was happening in the house, because in my mind I was like, ‘no, this is a game, and I have to play it, put that aside.’”
Not only can viewers watch the episodes, but they can also watch the live feeds of what’s happening. Seeing the fans’ social media posts from people who had watched the episodes and the live feeds also contributed to DePuy realizing that his feelings of discomfort were valid.
“To know that I wasn’t delusional in those moments, that others could see what was happening, has been a lot to take in. Fans and friends let me know the comments made went beyond the game…I’m like, ‘Oh, so my instincts were correct.”
One of the most poignant moments on the live feeds occurred when DePuy was crying, alone in his room, and said how he missed his gay community.
“I really missed my friends. I missed my queer community. We’re so colorful. We’re so loud. We’re so vibrant. We speak off the cuff, and we’re very truthful and honest with how we speak, and it’s fun. We have fun lingo.”
DePuy had to censor his expressions in the house. “Because I can say one thing, but it can mean something different to straight people than it does with my queer brothers and sisters. So, there was a sense of code-switching that I had to do. I had to even put aside some of my queerness in a way sometimes to fit in.”
DePuy was thrilled to be the very first drag queen to ever be cast on the show.
“I’m honored to have been chosen. There’s a million drag queens out there, and to know that I was a contender to come in the house and not even be in drag was like a wow for me. I’m over here in Hollywood, running around these streets with a wig and heels just to make a dollar to survive, and I have to rely on drag to do that. And then to be offered this opportunity and be given the privilege to say, ‘hey, you don’t have to put on the wig for you to be valuable here,’ is just insane to me.”
Prior to his shows, DePuy has been hustling for 15 years, flipping burgers and doing drag at night.
“That has been my life these past since I was 17. So it’s been a long journey; the opportunity to do this out of drag is a very big blessing. I’m honored and grateful to be the representation of my community.”
If you missed Jason on “Big Brother: Unlocked,” the episode can be seen on CBS.com. He will be back on the show for the finale.
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