Professional Documents
Culture Documents
How Queer Eye Fashions Itself
How Queer Eye Fashions Itself
2017-00405
"Ayoko na, mag-aartista na lang ako." This is a statement I find myself blurting out
whenever my mountain of academic and organization deliverables become too overwhelming for
me to handle. There has always been a semblance of glamor and relaxation in being a celebrity.
After all, celebrities, in a sense, feel like they represent the best of us––with their perfect
complexions, crystal clear voices, expensive clothing, and the cherry on top is that they get fame
this is in some sense, celebrities serves as the bridge that connects the audience to the created
content by producers and other crew members. Celebrities are among the primary reasons as to
why audiences watch and consume the shows, podcasts, and movies that they do.
In doing so, however, celebrities also end up obscuring the incredibly complex and cruelly
bureaucratic processes involved in production. They make it all seem so simple and natural, when
the reality is that every decision––from the clothes they're wearing to the lines they're speaking––
is meticulously crafted, framed, and staged. By putting up an act of perfection and precision, they
are turned into commodities for audiences to feast on, ogle over, and fanaticize. At the same time,
audiences become commodities in that their attention becomes the literal currency of media
networks. By gaining more traction from viewers, conglomerates like ABS-CBN, GMA, and more,
also earn more profit from their advertisers. As much as celebrities are commodities in themselves,
they primarily serve as stepping stones in attaining the greater products of the media: the audience.
The more famous celebrities one media network has, the greater its viewership will most likely be.
This is why networks like ABS-CBN really pamper their celebrities and stars. By developing fresh
talents who are relatable, charming, and attractive, the more likely it is that viewers will watch the
The same practices are definitely observed in international and Western media.
Charismatic, witty, glamorous, funny, and beautiful don't even give justice in describing the
Queer Eye is a Netflix reality TV series. Its hosts are five openly gay men called the Fab
Five. Each of them have their own roles in fulfilling the shows' premise: they're given the task of
"fixing" the life of an often straight male in a week. Jonathan Van Ness gives him a makeover,
Tan France upgrades his wardrobe, Bobby Berk renovates his home, Antoni Porowski teaches him
how to cook simple meals for himself and his loved ones, and Karamo Brown acts as the
"psychologist" of the show, allowing the participant to talk about his emotional baggage (which is
obviously scripted).
Although the Fab Five were not necessarily famous before the launch of the series, their
uplifting and charming attitude is what attracted stronger viewership. There are some episodes
wherein the participants are not that agreeable or not even likeable, but as the hosts, none of them
were allowed to get angry; they always have to understand and act on their emotions in a civilized,
As mentioned earlier, the participants are often straight men who have had their
masculinity "crushed" in that they have completely lost confidence in themselves. The series shows
how men are actually affected by toxic masculinity, too, and it demonstrates that heterosexuality
is a disaster in itself––affecting even though who belong in its sector. What's interesting about how
the show frames its participants is that in the end, they don't come out of the whole makeover being
complete winners and utterly confident about themselves. Instead, they simply progress into
versions of themselves that are kinder to their own self-deteriorating thoughts and insecurities.
In essence, Queer Eye permits its participants to graciously accept their own flaws, with a
new mentality that change and success looks different on everyone. This actually makes for more
relatable content; these participants are commodified by banking on these aspects of the ideology
in becoming the best version of one's self. Perhaps what makes this all the more appealing is that
the "clients"––straight white men––are individuals who have never been marginalized, if one
thinks about it historically and frankly, objectively. Instead, their problems truly root from the
individual, rather than being affected by all these outside forces and complex intersectionality.
This makes it much easier to actually tackle their issues, and help them change. I'd like to think
that the concept of actively seeking to change yourself, and actually getting results has always
been a source of entertainment, and Queer Eye feeds its audiences those fantasies. Another way
that Queer Eye commodifies its participants is in the way it frames them as men who end up being
capable of cleaning themselves up and doing domestic labor. This hits the pain points and tugs the
emotions of the main demographic of the show's audience: women. Household chores and self-
care are habits and tasks often associated with women, so by letting straight men actually do their
part in this sector of the labor force gives female viewers more pleasure.
However, there is no doubt that all these renovations and makeovers would be impossible
without money. Queer Eye actually partakes in stealth advertising through the means of product
placement––it's fascinatingly subtle. In fact, their very own pick-up truck that they drive around
shopping, retailers like Target are seen on screen quickly, but the brand itself is never mentioned
out loud. Even the cosmetics used by Jonathan on the participant are shown on screen, but very
quickly and subtly. Honestly, not one of its segments feels like an advertisement at all. Another
way the show earns profit through advertising is on social media. The Fab Five each have their
own social media accounts like Instagram and Twitter, and they are paid to endorse certain
I think Queer Eye is one of the best examples of how celebrities and even participants (who
become stars in their own right) also affect our perception of reality. By transforming commodities
for us to ogle at, they present us with highly unrealistic standards of living. This is where material
mobility comes into play in that celebrities give its audiences the illusion that wealth is possible
for anyone.
Money is truly the biggest contributor in creating the change possible for the participants
in Queer Eye. Without money, their growth and progress wouldn't be possible. The greatest pitfall
of all this is that by commodifying these celebrities and stars, these extravagant measures and
lifestyles seem attainable to the general public, when in fact, they rarely are.
SANCIO, Anna Beatrice B. 2017-00405
As I was scrolling through story after story on the Buhay Media website, I stopped at this
entry: To Hell and Back: The PA Survival Kit. The title on its own already compelled me,
especially with its use of the word "hell" to describe the nature of the workforce that a personal
The entry was submitted by Gay Domingo who was once a PA herself. In her article, she
basically emphasized how life is a literal living hell for PAs, and she also discussed the crazy
conditions and straight-up maltreatment they are given. In her survival kit, she gave seven pieces
of advice: 1) Right from the start, inquire about your salary––if you are even entitled to one, 2)
Forget your school or where you came from, 3) Color bars cannot be bought from the grocery, 4)
Learn to smoke, or develop an astig stance, 5) Forget holidays, weekends, and romance, 6) Stars
I chose this article primarily because it has always been the buzz in Maskom about how
everyone almost always starts as a PA in the industry, no matter how well one performed in school.
There is also this notion that being successful in media means climbing the ladder from the very
bottom, and more often than not the "bottom" is viewed as being a PA. I even recall an interview
I conducted with Director Antoinette Jadaone, who shared that she, too, started out as a PA,
constantly being badgered with commands and requests. But being a PA is what made me learn
the ropes, and turned me into the director I am today, she says.
However, this mindset can be so toxic because of the systematic hierarchy and
discrimination in place towards PAs and smaller roles and personnel in general. I've always
questioned the success metric of progressing from a PA to a duly recognized director, and I
honestly think that cases like Jadaone's are merely the exception to the norm.
The sad reality is that people with jobs in the media like a PA have to constantly adjust to
the world and forces around the, whereas for celebrities, the world is built and fashioned around
them. Because the intensive labor is so hidden behind good lighting, well-crafted sets, and
beautiful stars, it is easier for the efforts and hard work of PAs to be discounted. Moreover, this
also makes it easier for them to be manipulated and be taken advantage of since they end up having
zero sense of ownership to the content that is produced, when in reality, they played a crucial role
in making it a success.
For example, the post says, "Stars are people, too." The ridiculous part of this is that the
way the blog is written makes it feel like PAs aren't people, but robotic slaves who need to keep a
demeanor of calmness and efficiency, all while performing their functions with grace and without
fail. PAs have to adjust to the fact that celebrities make mistakes, but the moment that they make
a single mistake, they are thrown under the bus and reprimanded harshly. PAs also have to act
strong and astig in the face of adversities, because looking weak would mean being the subject of
teasing and ridicule by your own co-crew members. PAs are truly viewed as those at the bottom
of the ladder, and so they have to succumb to what everyone is telling them to do in order to make
keep their jobs. There is no adjusting for PAs––they do all the adjusting for everyone else.
I don't want to be too idealistic and say that there's a chance that things could change. The
conditions of laborers like PAs are truly unfair, but it's a system that has been so deeply rooted in
history and embedded in our mindsets, that it might be difficult to overcome it any time soon. I
really can't think of any way to solve the dehumanizing of PAs other than by actually regularizing
ALL media workers, and by implementing stricter rules on employee's incentives like holidays,
leaves, and overtime. However, this seems like a far-fetched idea, even if these are, funnily enough,
Overall, I'm genuinely scared of working in media. I have always upheld my principles
strongly, but as early as now, I am sadly certain that these may remain as what they are now––
mere principles and beliefs, but without any perceived action to solidify them. I have no idea what
I want to do career-wise, but I have been preparing myself mentally already to the harsh treatment
and conditions I'll be facing. As the system dictates, of course I would be the one doing all the
adjusting, and it would not really matter that I graduated from UP. What matters to them is that
my presence would mean a new robotic slave for them to take advantage of and whose skills and
talents they could easily exploit without any consequences. It really aches me to my core to have
to think of one of my possible career paths in such a grim perspective, but there is really no point
in being positive when this treatment of media workers has been going on for the longest time. If
anything needs to adjust, it should not be the PAs, and it should not be me. It should be this rotten
system.