The aggressively straight-acting heterosexual male is a curious phenomenon, prone to sudden, sporadic, and acutely embarrassing outbreaks which provide some rather surreal amusement to those onlookers present. One particular outbreak of this occurred within the confines of the East Kent Local Group in 1997 in response to an attack on the professed sexuality of the overwhelmingly male group structure. The editorial team of this hallowed journal, at the time just a sadistic glint in the editor's eye, were present and, if truth be told, were the indirect cause of the plague by mentioning a simple comment that had appeared in the recently published Licence Denied.
Actually, it wasn't so much a comment, as a question. And the question was this: "Why is fandom so gay?" Once it had been aired it created a shockwave in the EKLG tempered only by a further wave of panic in which everyone tried desperately to out-straight each other. For several months the sheer attempted machismo was carried on wherever possible, occasionally bordering on homophobia, and Paul Cornell's sexuality was the subject of several snide remarks.
It's become quite sexy to be gay. It's cool, fashionable, hip, trendy, and many, many other adjectives too. In fact, in many respects, it's everything that being a fan isn't.
Thankfully, it was Roger who put an end to the last one by announcing bitterly at one meeting that Cornell had attempted to pull his then-girlfriend right in front of him at the Fitzroy Tavern one Thursday. The sulky response from one of the main offenders that "he could be one of them, though - there's a lot of them about" provoked this writer's escape into the kitchen in search of shortbread, purely to avoid the words "far more than you'd think" escaping from his already ample lips. The subject died shortly afterwards as a form of conversation, although several group members did attempt to bring girlfriends along and throw far more parties than was strictly necessary.
Whilst amusing for those on the sidelines of this display, it seemed, from the group's personal perspective, entirely reasonable for Cornell's comment to be taken as completely mad. There was little or no real evidence of any particular gay element in fandom, other than a few characters in a couple of books and a coming out piece by Matt Jones in DWM, and on the basis of the general behaviour of the EKLG no real poofiness could be justifiably ascribed. Cornell seemingly upheld his argument by presenting a few pages of gayish, but ultimately inconclusive, fan writing, but ultimately all he made obvious was that some fans were gay; a statement which would hardly have shocked anyone with a passing interest in cultural theory. The aforementioned editorial staff decided to ignore the contention without any qualms of conscience. Dissent, they decided, was good, and they were sure Cornell would agree.
This disagreement, however, didn't continue for very long. With Virgin's publication of Russell T. Davies' Damaged Goods and Jones' own Bad Therapy in consecutive months there seemed to be a very definite gay blip in the Doctor Who world which screamed "queens at large". It provided definite food for thought - it was a mad thought, but could Cornell actually be right?
Queer culture, of course, has had such a huge effect on nineties society that it's become quite sexy to be gay, as long as you don't actually describe the sex to anyone. Gay clubs are well renowned for being the friendliest and most fashionable clubs at which to hang, there's a huge number of adverts selling fashion through implied bisexuality, and time and time again the pink pound has proved to be stronger than the gold one. Being gay is cool, fashionable, hip, trendy, and many, many other adjectives too. In fact, in many respects, it's everything that being a fan isn't.
That there is any Poof Quotient within Doctor Who fandom is, as was previously mentioned, hardly surprising. In any social grouping there's a better than average chance that homosexuality will break out amongst some of the group members. What is odd is that the visibility of gay Doctor Who fans is far higher than in any other social grouping, or at least far greater than the 10% proportion that a mad old git like Alfred Kinsey or Shere Hite would probably claim.
What is most interesting, of course, is that this seems to be a phenomenon exclusively focused on the Doctor Who fan base. Take Matthew Jones' piece for DWM, for example. It is hard to imagine a writer on a Star Trek magazine coming out within the magazine's own pages, and, more specifically doing it without making any moral or ethical point. Or indeed actually having to do it at all.
So does Doctor Who have something particular to offer these professed homosexualists, other, of course, than a fan base almost entirely constructed of virgin young men? Perhaps it does, certainly no other series seems to feature such an abnormally skewed distribution. Mind you, Blake's 7 is notorious for its slash fiction - Avon and Blake getting hot and sweaty with all that leather on - but most, in fact probably all, slash fiction is written by middle-aged women; proof, if any were needed, that straight women get off on the idea of gay men making out, almost as much as straight men get turned on by the idea of lesbian sex.
Star Trek, of course, has attempted a lesbian relationship on screen, albeit in a rather coy and feeble cop-out, but Doctor Who has never really had a gay/lesbian theme at any point, even if you take into account the fifth Doctor's occasionally bitchy off-the-cuff remarks. It is necessary, of course, for the purposes of this discussion to ignore the queenish dialogue of Arak and Etta in Vengeance on Varos which even Russell T. Davies would have been hard pushed to create. The Happiness Patrol, as proved conclusively in SAD #2, doesn't count since it has far more to do with the rights of the individual than anything else. (It's status as a gay story has arisen solely through over-analysis rather than from actual evidence held within the text.) What Doctor Who does have, however, is a completely asexual hero figure.
Well, at least it did until 1996. The furore caused by the Doctor's snog with Grace Holloway is, one suspects, less of a criticism of the validity of the event, but more the whining of a group of gay fanboys annoyed at having this perceived asexuality snatched away from them. Underlying any assessment of this reaction there inevitably lurks the unkind assumption that it was largely fuelled by the desire of every normal pink-blooded male to be in Ashbrook's place as she swallowed the McGann tongue.
The reaction to the TVM kiss was largely fuelled by the desire of every normal pink-blooded male to be in Ashbrook's place as she swallowed the McGann tongue.
However, it can be seen that not being in Grace's shoes was not the problem, nor indeed was not being in Paul's face, but simply the fact that the Doctor was flagrantly playing tongue hockey with a woman, thereby loosening the gay fan's hold on the character. (It is worth pointing out that Matthew Jones evened the score in the New Adventure Bad Therapy, albeit in a blatant piece of wish fulfilment.)
The outcry over that kiss was swift and queenly, and the word asexual ended up being slung about rather too often for it to have any real meaning anymore. The point that most people missed is that asexuality is usually seen as a substitute for bisexuality, watered down, if you like, for mass consumption. Thus the Doctor's failure to have any form of sexual relationship with a woman opens up the potential for him to be capable of loving a man, automatically creating an iconic figure for your young gay male. This completely misses the point that the series' format was designed for everyone to watch, and therefore sex was never an issue, but then who said human beings were ever logical?
In any case, the ultimate damage was done. By attaching the Doctor's lips to a woman, his asexual nature was damaged. If Jacobs had had the thought to have him snog a bloke as well, then all would have been fine and dandy, in the non-Pertwee sense of the word. The Doctor's future as a hero figure for the aforementioned gay male would have remained nicely assured, thank you very much.
However the most important way in which Doctor Who is able to speak to the gay male in society is the overall emphasis the series has on the individual and freedom. Here is a hero whose travels involve liberating the citizens of the universe from autocracy, narrow thinking and dreary uniformity, making him the hero figure all the marginilized and oppressed seek. Whether on Varos, Pluto or the Earth itself, the Doctor is a social activist par excellence: radical without being militant and ethical without being evangelical. A man to whom perhaps the nauseating self publicist Peter Tatchell could look for inspiration.
Compare this for a second with the idealised universe of Star Trek. The professed go-ahead liberal views of its fab and groovy leaders never really convinces. Through all the trite moralising the overall message is disappointingly mundane: everyone is equal and as long as you do your duty no-one gives a Ferengi's fart what you do in the sack. Besides which, Star Trek's liberalism dwells far too much on gender and race-related politics for it to speak to those poofs caught shagging behind the sofa.
In direct contrast to this Doctor Who searches for the heart of the individual and celebrates the differences. In Star Trek equality means being indistinguishable from others, and those in favour of it are both Starfleet and the Borg, both taking personalities and imposing order upon them. Thus, for the gay male, the enemy is on both sides of the war. In Doctor Who, however, those values are only held by the villains of the piece: Daleks, Cybermen and Tax Collectors; it is the maverick who wins through in the face of overwhelming mediocrity.
So Doctor Who undoubtedly speaks to its gay fans, but then the same values appeal almost equally to the straight as well, and it would be difficult, not to say elitist, to argue that this is not the case. It also assumes that there is a mind-set which seeks to put Doctor Who into some kind of gay agenda, which is plainly bollocks. The Doctor's appeal is so universal that it would be hard for it not to appeal to gay culture in some way. It does not explain why Doctor Who has such a visibly gay following.
Perhaps the answer lies in group dynamics. It is true that in any social grouping the most visible and influential members are the ones which build, create and theorise. It's also equally true, although an appalling cliché, that the most creative elements within that society tend to be gay. The bohemian image of the actor / director / philosopher, for example, or the Bloomsbury group - you could call up a whole host of examples. Plus, of course, gay people are notoriously vociferous when you get a big enough collection of them together - collective noun: a packet? - so given the compressed nature of fandom in general, a group of them are inevitably going to make an impact. If applied to the real world, of course, this theory falls down flat on its well developed arse. However, in the smaller world of fandom it is easier to hear the individual voices at work; apply any theory of group dynamics to a large scale and any phenomenon would become harder to detect. It is not possible for us to think on such a grand scale.
It is also worth pointing out that whilst queerness and fannishness don't necessarly go cock in hand, there is at least one interesting parallel. The whole anally obsessive nature of fandom is replicated by those members of the fudge-packing brigade who pursue sex in a ruthless manner. Sometimes they can't think of anything else, wondering where the next lay is headed from in much the same way as your archetypal Who fan keeps staring at the horizon waiting for the next piece of merchandise to hove into view.
Additionally there's the old cliché of the predatory gay, always looking for new people to convert to the cause. In all fairness this particular trait is one which can be found almost uniformly amongst fans of all shapes and sizes. The sight of some poor innocent turning up at a Local Group meeting and being pounced upon by predatory Who-fans determined to convert them to the joys of the Horns of Nimon is one which remains deeply disturbing to those unfortunate enough to witness the event. (Now there's a thought: perhaps an age of consent should be applied to fandom?)
So Cornell may have a point. Certainly there is a large gay contingent within Doctor Who fandom, due largely to the open and inclusive nature of the series' ethos, but this subculture is over-emphasised due to the fact that the gay fans seem to have cornered the market when it comes to controlling the presses. The trouble is that the hip, lively and creative element of fandom is still under thrall, in the public imaginination, to the image of the anorak wearing gimboid whose never had any form of sexual encounter whatsoever. If anything it is possible that the gay fans should become even more visible, start breaking out into the real world and shattering this long-held view. After all, who cares if the creative and interesting fans are gay. They're still the only ones worth knowing.
Besides which, these days there seem to be so many people jumping out of the closet it'd have to be a TARDIS anyway.
Article Text © 1998/2003 the respective author(s). All other text © Rob Morris / SAD Magazine. Design © Rob Morris 1999/2003. No reproduction of material in whole or in part may be undertaken without permission of the copyright holders.