RASA NAVICKAITE Queer as Alla: Subversion and/or re-affirmation of the homophobic nationalist discourse of normality in post-Soviet Vilnius IF YOU ARE non-heterosexual and you live in Vilnius, then gay- friendly options for going out are pretty limited for you. You would probably end up in the same place each weekend – a little under- ground gay club, called Soho. While for the gay community it is a well-known place to have drinks, to dance and to flirt, those who do not clearly identify as lesbian, gay, bi or trans usually have never even heard about this place. And those who do hear about it tend to imagine it as a place ”outside” the boundaries of normality and mo- rality, a place for those who live on the margins of society, delimited according to the axis of sexuality, or, to put it in a coarse language – a ”nest of whores” (Tereškinas 2004, 32). Although the times of the totalitarian Communist regime are gone since more than twenty years, the strict boundaries between what is normal and what is not, persist and in some cases have be- come even more rigid (Stukuls 1999, 537). The high level of soci- etal homophobia,1 encouraged by nationalist discourse is a perfect example of this boundary control. Although LGBT organisations present visibility and openness of non-heteronormative sexualities lambda nordica 4/2012 127 © Föreningen Lambda Nordica 2012 Queer as Alla as their main goal, it does not change the situation, where the ma- jority of gays are ”in the closet” (Atviri.lt 2012a). Homophobia and secrecy are also widespread in the gay community and it is obviously manifest in Soho. Queerness2 here does not dare to speak its name, but it ”knows its place,” which is always separated from the normal, always in the position of the abject. There is no name of the club at the entrance, not to mention a rainbow flag, only bright red fluores- cence lights, low frequency dance beat and the stairs leading down to the basement. As the flyer at the door says, in English, tonight is a special night in Soho – it’s Alla’s B-day party. After midnight a stout and rough bouncer, who meets everyone at the entrance of the club, comes up on the stage dressed as Alla Pugacheva. At least this is the mes- sage of his fancy dress, a wig of wild blond hair and glaring make- up. If you come from Eastern Europe or Russia, no matter if you are straight or gay, you don’t need any explanation of who Alla is. This extremely famous Russian singer and pop icon was, and still is, adored by millions, for almost 40 years now. In the times of Soviet oppression she was the voice who appealed to the masses, expressed the true feelings and was ”allowed to break ideological taboos” by mocking the existing regime (Partan 2007, 487). However, tonight, here in Soho, it is Alla who is mocked. Those who are perceived by the society as ”whores” as their ”perverse” masculinity is a threat to the nation, family and ”normal” men and women (Tereškinas 2007, 164), those who are said to be breaking taboos and societal norms with their hedonism, perversity and effeminacy (Blagojevic 2011, 35) are enjoying a mimetic impersonation of Alla – the symbol of exaggerated femininity from the Soviet times. 127 RASA NAVICKAITE What lessons can this figure ofAlla in Soho, a figure situated between East and West, between the memory of the Soviet past and the hopes of a better Western future, between the strict definitions of femininity and masculinity, give us in the context of the nationalist, homopho- bic discourse, which seems to overwhelm the post-Soviet era with its desire to preserve boundaries and distinctions between what is nor- mal, and what is not, along the lines of the axis of sexuality, ethnicity and geopolitics in Lithuania? Can we read Alla as a great parody and subversion of the norms of gender, sexuality, culture, the reworking of the traumatic (post-)Soviet past, which haunts nationalist imagery in times of independence? Does it really manage to renegotiate the cultural memory and stigma, or rather, by laughing at itself, repro- duce the boundaries setting itself apart? Instead of subverting, maybe it only reaffirms the place of the queer abject ”outside” normality? Or does it do both things at the same time? In order to touch upon these questions I employ two main con- cepts: first, the abject, elaborated by Julia Kristeva, as ”the something,” which has to be expelled as a foundational possibility for the ”self” to be created, the primary abjection of ”the ambiguous, in-between, composite” (1982, 4); which has to be abjected for the strict bound- aries of the individual or collective identity to maintain, to ensure normality. Second, the concept of drag as formulated by Judith Butler, as that, which ”reveals the imitative structure of gender itself” (1990, 187), but however, does not necessarily subvert (hetero)normativity, but can also reaffirm it, which is, at best, ”a site of certain ambivalence” (Butler 1993, 85). Following the figure of Alla in Soho which seems to embody perfectly the abject, the figure on the margins, the ambiguity of gender and culture, I will first dive into the homophobic national- ist discourse of normality in contemporary Lithuania, and then ask about the subversive possibilities of post-Soviet drag. 128 129 Queer as Alla Queer as the abject: Homophobia inside out In the societal imagery of post-Soviet societies3 those who are per- ceived as sexually different (and homosexuality often stands as ex- emplary), who are queer, occupy the place of the abject, as it was described by Julia Kristeva.4 Abject for Kristeva is ”the ’object’ of the primal repression”, which is precisely an emergence of the ”speaking being, always already haunted by the Other” (1982, 12). In Kristeva’s thought the abject is that, which has to be excluded in order for the subject to emerge, and a subject is that, which always has this abjection as an inherent feature, as a foundational loss. Iris Marion Young uses Kristeva’s concept of the abject to understand societal discrimination, derogatory attitudes and behaviour towards those, who do not occupy a hegemonic subject position, e.g. non-white people, non-heterosexual, differently able bodies or elderly 1990( , 210). Young argues that ”the habitual and unconscious fears and aversions that continue the perception of some groups as having de- spised and ugly bodies at least partly arise from anxieties over loss of identity” (202). In her own way, Butler uses Young and Kristeva in the explanation of the dynamics of homophobia in the context of an outburst of AIDS in the US, as a repulsion and expulsion of ”others” 129 RASA NAVICKAITE for the purposes of social regulation and control. ”The boundary be- tween the inner and outer is confounded by those excremental pas- sages in which the inner effectively becomes outer and this excreting function becomes as it were, the model by which othe r forms of identity-differentiation are accomplished. In effect, this is the mode by which Others become shit.” (1993,182) The vulgar word, here employed by Butler, quite accurately reflects the impossibility to find a ”proper” word to name ”that something,” which was described by Kristeva as the abject. When society is guided by the principal of abjection, rather than acknowledgment and inclusion of Other, the very thought of ”the something,” which exceeds the boundaries of normality (in the case which is analysed in this article, the supposedly nor- mal gender and/or sexuality) is extremely threatening, even physi- cally repulsive, disgusting, sickening. Therefore this ”something” never actually becomes an object of thought, neither occupies a subject position. In the case of the Lithuanian society, queerness is definitely this unthinkable ”something” (Atviri.lt2012 b). Banal statistics can partially approve this claim – around 70% of Lithu- anian respondents say that they don’t know gay people (Sprinter tyrimai 2010), that is, they are not objects in their everyday knowl- edge. Accordingly, around half of those, identified as gay would never say that they are non-heterosexual even to their family, not to mention in more public environments. Therefore they do not occupy the subject position as queer. Any attempt to make queers visible, heard, to name them, is followed by the chorus of voices, shaming queers for ”demonstrating” their desires, requiring atten- tion, having nothing to be proud of except ”who they are sleeping with.” For example, before the first Gay Pride in 2010, the first ever open LGBT event in Lithuania, a huge outburst of hom- 130 131 Queer as Alla ophobic statements filled the media and the public sphere. The head of the Parliament, Irena Degutienė, told journalists that the ”glorification of the culture of sexual pleasures and hedonism” is not appealing to her, and she encouraged people simply ”do not go and do not watch” the Pride. ”Every one of us has a so called sexual orientation and we don’t necessarily have to demonstrate it”, she said (BNS 2010). Another example is a statement by the con- temporary Mayor of Vilnius, Juozas Imbrasas, who several times prevented educational and political events of LGBT people and even prohibited the hoisting up of a rainbow flag. He stated that ”homosexuals can hold their events in closed spaces,” but not in an open-air (Delfi 2008). These examples show how queers are dis- cursively put in a position of abject – not radically excluded, but, however, still too disgusting to be public.