Naturally Tan Page 16
It frustrates me that people would think, You’re gay! Why wouldn’t you do drag? I’m not ashamed of myself. If you’re straight, you don’t automatically have to be into NASCAR. Maybe it’s not your thing. And just because I’m gay, I don’t have to enjoy every stereotype involved with being gay. I’ve had to remind myself time and time again that I don’t have to do anything. I can be the version of gay that I want to be. There are parts of gay culture that definitely aren’t me, and drag is one of those things.
In the end, I enjoyed it, more because of the overall experience than because I was in drag. But it did remind me of the fact that if I naturally have feminine traits, that’s fine. I don’t want to feel like I have to force feminine traits just to be part of the gay community. Nor do I want to hide them.
I wish our society could be more open when it comes to masculine displays of affection. I remember when I was eight years old and first visited Pakistan, it was the first time I saw guys holding hands, and I thought it was really weird. I wasn’t aware of my sexuality yet. But I did find men holding hands to be very peculiar. My brothers and I would giggle and joke about it. We had never seen anything like it before! These were grown men holding hands.
I look back and think, Gosh, that’s really evolved. They’re comfortable enough with men letting down their walls and saying, “I have affection for this friend. This small show of affection brings me closer to my friend in a way that is not sexual.” They understand it doesn’t have to mean anything other than that they are friends and that they care for each other.
Even now, I don’t hold my husband’s hand in public. I fear that it could lead to someone saying something disgusting or that it will lead to a situation where there might be an arrest or an altercation. I hate that I feel that way, but I do.
I do think there is an issue with masculinity in this country where it’s gone way overboard. I think stereotypical masculinity is a super archaic notion. There is no place for it anymore, especially in America. I’m talking about the kind of masculinity where you feel the need to display it.
If you feel secure in yourself, then holding your best friend’s hand to show them you care for them shouldn’t be a big deal. It seems indicative of a bigger problem if someone feels they can’t be openly affectionate with friends—even if you’re just in private.
Despite my feelings about this, I don’t hold the other boys’ hands in the street. I would like to—it’s a sign of affection. It’s really sad that people twist it around and try to spin it into a story about an affair or use it to suggest that something more is going on. Believe me, if something were going on, I’d be a lot smarter about it and would try to hide it!
There is such a thing as friendship between two gay men. If you see two women sitting together giggling, you don’t automatically assume they must be sleeping together; they can just be great girlfriends. It’s sad that this can’t also be the case for two men.
My level of comfort with my masculinity and femininity is ever evolving. These days, it’s something I feel a lot more comfortable with, but it wasn’t always the case.
Growing up, I was really skinny, but I wanted to put on more muscle. As a teenager, I asked my doctor so many times, “Is there anything I can do to put on weight?” I would eat like a pig, but nothing would happen. It still infuriates me that I can’t put on weight. I’ve been working out since I was twenty-one, and I work out six days a week and eat as much as possible, but still, I’d love to have a more masculine body.
Most days, I’m not massively concerned. But I think more men need to have conversations about body image. I’ll have crazy times, like when I have to wear a swimsuit in front of other people, where I’ll feel mortified.
I actually don’t show my body in public. I haven’t gone swimming since the show aired, because I think there is this misconception that if you’re a man—particularly if you’re a gay man—you’re supposed to be ripped. Do I feel self-conscious now more than ever? Yeah. Am I likely to go to a public pool any time soon? No, I am not.
Recently, I was in Hawaii with my husband. I was in a swimsuit on a desolate beach, and still, someone wanted to take my picture. I explained I don’t like to have my picture taken with my shirt off. It reminded me of why I don’t do this. I don’t want to give the internet trolls a reason to attack me. Putting my body out there for the world to see feels, to me, like giving everyone an opportunity to discuss me on a level that I don’t feel comfortable with. They can comment on my personality or what I do for work, but when it comes to my body, I would be very hurt to hear opinions on my physique. Even the positive comments (“Oh my gosh, you look so skinny”) can be not what I want to hear. It’s just a self-protection that I feel most people wouldn’t voluntarily say, “I want to put this picture on the internet for millions of people to critique.”
Do I long for the day when we finally get a pool put in our home? Absolutely. Really looking forward to that.
The sad thing is, I think everybody should be able to show their body publicly! I think that I put this kind of pressure on myself because the entertainment industry puts this pressure on us. I do think there is a belief that a young gay man should look like an Adonis.
In season 1, episode 6 (Remy’s episode), there was a scene where I crossed my legs while wearing short shorts. I was so worried about what people would think of me. “Uncross your legs!” I kept yelling at the screen. We’ve been conditioned to think that to be desirable, we have to play masculine. I hated that I had internalized that so strongly.
But finally, I had to have a come-to-Jesus moment. I had a conversation with myself where I said, “You shouldn’t pretend to be masculine if that’s not you.” There are both feminine and masculine sides of me, and I realized I shouldn’t have to pretend or to hide who I am.
Sometimes, I would catch myself crossing my legs or having a limp wrist, and I would stop myself. But finally, I thought, You are on a show. You are on a gay show. You are on the gay show. The jig is up! Also, who cares if boys don’t find you attractive? You’re a married man!
It took me a long time, but I’m so happy that I’m finally in a place where I no longer feel the need to whitewash or straight-wash myself in order to fit in. But some old habits do remain.
This morning, I was at the gym, and I didn’t notice that Jonathan Van Ness was also there, on the treadmill. I was finishing up and walked behind the row of treadmills, and he ran after me. “It’s funny how you walk—totes masc at the gym,” he said. “You’ve got this, like, gym bro walk.”
I didn’t realize I was doing it, but I was like, “Gosh, maybe I do walk differently at the gym.” I trained myself early on to avoid any kind of confrontation, not to advertise, not to create a scene. And I hate that it—even subconsciously—is still a thing.
Initially, I walked in whatever was my natural way, but along the way, I must have learned to walk a certain way from women on TV and in movies. Apparently, I developed an effeminate walk when I was very young, and I remember family members saying, “Tan, don’t walk like that. Boys don’t walk like that.” I would try my best to walk like a boy, walk like a boy, walk like a boy, but I was hyperconscious of it.
I took it so far that I remember, in high school, people saying I walked like a rapper from Compton; I had apparently gone so far beyond my natural walk that I tried to be a cool young black guy from the hood. I had to find a walk that felt appropriately me, and that took years.
Being on the show—and also being surrounded by gay men—has reminded me of the fact that I shouldn’t try to be anything that I’m not. We encourage people on the show to be their authentic selves: “You do you!” “Don’t hide yourself away!” “Don’t hide your feminine side, show off who you truly are…”
I remember saying these things and feeling like a complete imposter, because everything I would encourage someone to do would be something I also struggled with. I would think, You didn’t do any of that until you got this position. I’ve alw
ays encouraged people to live authentically, but I understand all too well how it isn’t always easy. For me, the journey to self-acceptance has been a long one.
NOT-SO-FANCY LUGGAGE
So often, my friends and family mention how I now lead this glamorous life. You pose for the camera! You go to New York every week! You go do international press! It all looks so glam.
When we first started doing press, it did feel glam, and I felt like a pretty princess. For about one week before season 1 was available, we made our first appearances on US shows like The Rachael Ray Show, The Wendy Williams Show, and The Today Show. It all felt so glamorous, because I’d seen these shows for years and we were doing things that famous folks do. I was so impressed by it all. I thought, Ooh, ritzy glitzy, Tan. You must be something to get on a show like this!
But then we were on a press tour from the start of February until pretty much when we started filming season 3. If we weren’t flying somewhere for press, we would be doing phone interviews (what we call phoners) for two to three hours every day. It turns out that really, there is nothing glamorous about sitting in a hotel room for days on end, being asked the same questions over and over. And every time, you have to fake it like it’s the first time you’ve heard that same intrusive, embarrassingly personal question, like “What did you think when you first went to [insert celebrity name]’s home?”
Then we found out we were going to Australia. When you find out you’re going to a foreign land, it’s very exciting. But when you get there, you realize all you’ll see of the foreign land is the hotel room, the inside of a car, and the inside of a pressroom. Don’t be fooled. If you ever get on a show and you’re lucky enough to do an international press tour, it means you will see a long flight, the inside of a hotel room, and a car. Australia, New Zealand, Dubai, London … it’s all the same because you’re in a hotel room. Don’t get me wrong—I couldn’t be more grateful for how much press we do for this show, as it means we’re doing something that people want to talk about, but it really isn’t as glamorous as I’d thought it would be.
The best part of going an international press tour, though, is that you get to sleep like you’ve never slept before. You’re constantly on the go in this industry, so fourteen hours away from everyone and everything was the very best treat of all. You can’t do any of the usual stuff you would do, because the Wi-Fi doesn’t work over the ocean. So, with the luxury of a first-class seat, you sleep and catch up on movies. Now that, my dear readers, is the most glamorous thing of all, in my opinion.
I love that the press has been so supportive, and I’m shocked by how positive they continue to be about us boys and the show. But the truth is, at a press junket, you sit in a room, sometimes for up to ten hours, and every fifteen to twenty minutes, someone new will rotate in to ask you questions. Every reporter thinks his or her questions are brand-new, yet they have been asked hundreds of times, and keeping up the energy after you’ve been interviewing for three or four hours is very hard work. You get this weird, fuzzy-headed feeling. There is a ringing in your ears, and you feel like you could fall asleep at the drop of a coin. Yet you’re expected to be the same version of yourself that you are on TV.
But imagine flying on the longest flight you’ve ever taken and—within an hour of landing—getting dressed and ready and then performing at your highest level for up to twelve hours. Imagine if you didn’t even have half an hour to decompress. You have to hit your hotel room, get your face on, and then sit in front of the cameras.
It’s stress-inducing, because whenever this happens, I’m not on my game. And then when the reporters ask questions, I’m far more likely to say something that I definitely don’t want to say. For example, they might ask questions about a certain episode that hasn’t come out yet, and I’ll slip and offer information and only afterward think, Oh, shit, I wasn’t supposed to give that away. And I know my PR person is going to be furious that I’ve let something slip.
Or I might feel so tired that I accidentally give away information about a friend, because I felt so tired that I forgot to pack my emotional arsenal. Or they’ll ask what I think about a celebrity or someone’s new movie or someone’s new song, and because I just want to get to the next question, I’ll give a too-honest answer. Then they’ll try to create drama between us.
All of it is just really exhausting.
I am so lucky to have four other castmates, because we’ve learned to work in sync with one another. We each have different tells. The other boys know I’m getting tired when I start to stutter a lot. This is for sure my main giveaway. For Antoni, he gets this vacant look on his face. It will become very obvious to each of us when one of us is struggling, so the rest make up for it. Then someone else will drop off, and we’ll readjust. I can’t imagine being on my own on a press tour; it would be hellacious.
Everyone expects to see “Tan France from Netflix’s Queer Eye!” at all times. But the Tan France on the show has usually had some time during the day to decompress. He hasn’t been in a room for ten hours, not seeing sunlight, expected to answer the same questions over and over again, acting excited the whole time. It’s a tough act to keep up when all you want to do is not speak for a couple of hours and just decompress.
The best way I can describe it is this: Imagine, if you’re married, your wedding day. You make your way around your wedding party, all day, making sure everyone is having a great time. If you’re fretting about something not going to plan, or you hit a wall and are exhausted, you know you still have to power through and pretend like you don’t have a care in the world because today you have to present your very best self to everyone at that wedding. It’s tough.
Going back to London on our press tour was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. I was given a hero’s welcome (it sounds arrogant to say, but it’s true!), and I’ve never felt more proud to be British. Going back to England and being able to say, “I represent us,” felt so fucking epic. There aren’t a lot of us British personalities out there representing the global community. Every major show and every news outlet treated us, and especially me, beautifully. It felt so impactful.
I never dreamed that I would get to be on the likes of BBC Radio 1 or This Morning. Radio 1 is massive in the UK. It’s just as popular as the biggest shows on TV. When I was first told that we were going on, I practically screamed the house down. Rob couldn’t understand why radio was so important to me, but it was. It was a part of my young adult life in England, where I listened to it every day.
As for This Morning, my family had been watching that show since before I was even born. It’s like our version of The Today Show. To appear as a guest was insane. I took three of my closest friends from the UK: Nas, Kiri, and Vicky Downie—and it felt so special having them there to witness how wonderfully exciting this had become.
The trip was over before we knew it, as the five days were jam-packed with press, but it was truly magical, and I can hardly wait to get back over there again.
When it comes to press, another thing I love is an editorial. Do I love a magazine shoot? Yes, I do. If I could just do editorials, that’d be great. The actual features can get really meaty, and you get to do a photo shoot. I live for a cool photo shoot.
When it comes to editorial, it’s all very sane and organized. There are no surprises. The magazine discusses the concept with you beforehand, and you start to plan looks with their stylists. When you get to the shoot, they treat you like you’re a star. Someone is there to greet you at the door with the coffee order your manager gave them earlier, and then it’s straight into wardrobe, where you get to play dress-up and decide on who you want to be at that shoot.
One of my very favourites was PAPER magazine, as I got to show a side of myself I’d never shown before. I wore full makeup for the first time, my hair was styled in ways I’ve never tried, and my clothes were over the top in the very best way.
Then, as the music blasts—I usually choose Nicki Minaj—the photographer sta
rts to shoot and call out directions, all while telling you how amazing you look. All this is to say: magazine shoots are like a fantasy where you’re the queen for the day. It’s the best.
Press is, without a doubt, the hardest part of the job, not only because of the energy required to perform for hours on end but also because of how much it impacts your life. With press obligations, you usually find out just a couple of days in advance, and you have to change all your plans and fly somewhere very quickly. It makes it difficult to have a regular life. I know I sound like a spoiled brat, because I’m in a very privileged position, but it’s hard to plan things. I had to cancel attending my good friend’s wedding—which I’d planned for months in advance—because I had to do press. I cancelled my husband’s fortieth birthday vacation because I had to shoot something last minute. I missed my niece’s wedding because I had a work obligation. That’s just the way it is. It’s an incredible life, and I feel very blessed, but you miss out on a lot of real life. There is no way of saying no; if you’re on a show, you’re bound by the commitment you’ve made.
Sometimes, you’ll also run into situations that aren’t great. There will be green rooms that haven’t been updated since 1982, or a city that isn’t so glamorous where you’re in the middle of nowhere, without a coffee shop or a drugstore or really anything in sight, or a hotel that’s terrifying.
Also, when it comes to life in hotels—and this is a big thing—it’s super lonely. I’m in a place I don’t know well and where I don’t know anyone. After a long day of press, I go back to my hotel and order room service. If I go out, I’ll just have to perform all night, so I stay in my room all alone. I miss my friends, and I miss my husband. It’s a lonely, lonely place. Usually, I’m missing Rob because I haven’t seen him in days and days and sometimes weeks and weeks. We don’t have the kind of marriage where we want breaks from each other. We loathe time apart. And being away from him really brings me down.