TV's portrayal of gays goes too far

They descend on poor slobs like feather-boa-clad vultures, waving maximum strength everything, from hair dryers to paint peeler, in an espresso-induced frenzy. They fret over each split end on one hopeless loser's head. The merest hint of clashing wallpaper or—God forbid—‘70s décor is enough to send them flying from the room, wrists a'flopping, in a fit of comical disgust.

They are the "Fab Five" stars of Bravo's hit show Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and the latest in a fast-growing list of pop-culture gay icons. In Queer Eye, a world dominated by facial cream and designer jeans, no outfit is too loud, no makeover too extreme, no stunt too "gay." In short, everything is and has always been absolutely fabulous.

But concealed behind the fluffy façade of shows like Queer Eye is a disturbing reality for the world's homosexual, bisexual and transgender population, a group whose lives on the fringe are a far cry from fabulous. Though both gays and straights credit TV with bridging the culture gap, popular, gay-themed shows, including Queer Eye and Bravo's dating show Boy Meets Boy, perpetuate deeply-engrained cultural stereotypes while mocking homosexuality, hampering the homosexual community in their efforts to attain first-class citizenship.

Though the antics of the Fab Five keep the ratings high, Queer Eye's very premise makes the show offensive. The show overlooks a crucial reality: It is not the Fab Five's homosexuality that enables them to transform straight slobs into the Flavor of the Week. Rather, each is an expert in his specialty. Kyan Douglas, the "Grooming Guru," has a degree in cosmetology; despite his floppy wrists and squeaky voice, Carson Kressley, the famously flamboyant "Fashion Savant," holds degrees in Finance and Fine Art. Instead of publicizing these credentials, Queer Eye insists that the fashion savvy of its stars is intrinsic to their "gayness," a wrongful stereotype that plagues gays in their search for equal employment.

Because their employers and coworkers hold preconceived notions of abilities of gay employees, homosexuals are harrassed in the workplace. They are often denied promotions or equal pay; in one case, it was suggested to a gay journalist that he was more suited for a different job: hairdressing. Only 13 states and Washington, D.C., have passed legislation prohibiting sexual orientation-based discrimination, and no such law exists at the federal level. Until employers stop discriminating against gays and widespread legislation is passed freeing them from workplace harassment, for TV to propagate the image of gays as inherently suited for narrow occupations in the fashion industry is irresponsible and damaging.

While the lighthearted interactions between the Fab Five and their clientele at least provide a positive example of relationships between gay and straight men, there is nothing similarly redeeming about Boy Meets Boy, an exploitative show that goes beyond ignorant stereotyping to deriding the very state of homosexuality. On the show, James, a gay bachelor, selected a boyfriend from 15 contestants. In similar dating programs, the audience is meant to mock the leading man's shallowness—it's a voluntary choice for people to participate in these shows and expose themselves to national embarrassment. But in Boy Meets Boy, the joke centers around James' sexual orientation, an involuntary aspect of his character unrelated to his superficiality. Not all contestants were gay, so he might have selected a straight man and been rebuffed and degraded for his homosexuality in front of the merciless audience.

By condoning the ridicule and humiliation of homosexuals in the media, TV tacitly approves their mistreatment. There is a serious breach between gays and straights that often results in violence—in 2002, 1464 hate crimes were motivated by sexual orientation, according to the FBI—and that breach is widened by defamatory programs. The U.S. is not accepting enough of homosexuality for shows as cruel as Boy Meets Boy to air. Instead of providing viewers with shows that dehumanize homosexuals and condone their emotional denigration, TV producers should seek to foster understanding between gays and straights.

For their part, instead of flocking to Queer Eye and the like, viewers should note gay-themed programs with depth and substance. HBO's Angels in America is a poignant, darkly funny look at the gay community, addressing AIDS and repression. And though Jack on NBC's Will & Grace seems to channel Kressley on 12 cappuccinos, his character is satirical and a foil to the multifaceted Will.

For years the gay community has settled for any exposure in the entertainment industry, good or bad, while struggling to eliminate the misconceptions and spite that cause marginalization. TV should reflect the complexity of the gay identity and issues in that community. When that level of positive visibility is reached, perhaps Americans will be able to watch shows like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and happily dismiss the stereotypes instead of subscribing to them.