Misogyny by Gay Men in the Fashion Industry
An uncomfortable reality in an ostensibly inclusive industry
I’ve been dedicated to my fashion brand in Mexico for nine years, a journey in which I’ve experienced firsthand many of the lights and shadows of this industry. Among those shadows, there is one that is especially uncomfortable to acknowledge: the misogyny exerted by some gay men within the fashion world. Paradoxical as it may sound, I have faced –in this supremely machista country– almost the same number of misogynistic attitudes from gay men as from heterosexual men. At first it may surprise you –Isn’t fashion supposed to be a creative, diverse space, even dominated by progressive gay men?– but reality is more complex, so I hope you’re all ready to read part of my experience and, as a person passionate about digging deeper, to discover through a bit of academic research the reasons behind this, in my lofty paths to intellectualize.
It is not about generalizing or falling into homophobia (nothing could be further from my intention), but about pointing out a problem that is seldom discussed. A man being gay does not automatically vaccinate him against learned machismo; after all, they are still men living in a patriarchal system. As a lesbian friend once told me, belonging to an oppressed group does not prevent you from unintentionally oppressing another. And more and more voices are recognizing this phenomenon. Actress and activist Rose McGowan, for example, frustratedly stated that “gay men are just as misogynistic as heterosexual men, if not more.” Although the phrase sparked controversy at the time, many women understand the sentiment behind her words, myself included.
Male (and gay) leadership in a world of female consumers
Fashion is a realm full of female talent. Women are not only the primary consumers and “muses” (in quotation marks—more creator women are urgently needed, enough with being muses) of this market, but we also make up the majority of those who study fashion. However, positions of creative power are often occupied by men, often gay men. The data supports this: at the level of major luxury houses, only a TINY number of women hold creative direction. In fact, according to a report by the platform 1Granary, three out of four fashion students are women (74 %), but only one in eight creative director roles at the top fashion houses is held by a woman (12 %).” “The most worrying thing” about this disparity, points out researcher Ira Solomatina, “are the structural barriers they [women] must overcome, from the wage gap and gender biases to systemic obstacles.” In other words, it’s not a lack of female talent, but a hidden filter that halts our progress toward leadership roles.
This reality creates striking situations. Companies seem more comfortable entrusting their brands’ vision to men—often gay men with a reputation as creative geniuses—rather than to equally capable women. Major fashion conglomerates, whose primary market is women, mostly keep men in charge of artistic direction. Even when a woman manages to rise to the top, she tends to be the exception rather than the rule, and often, in the next round of star creative changes, her position ends up in the hands of another man. The implicit message is clear: Who better to dress a woman than a man? It seems that, in the minds of many executives, the answer remains “anyone but a woman.” (GRRRRR they truly have no idea how much this raw reality bothers me)
Historically, in fact, several of the most acclaimed designers have been men (often homosexual), which has cemented the stereotype of the star designer as a male figure. Thus, when a strong, talented, confident woman designer unafraid to take up space—what we colloquially might call a “bitch” in the best sense—appears, she is not always welcomed with open arms. I’ve noticed that some authorities in the field feel uncomfortable or intimidated by this, and their reaction can be to undermine her merits, criticize her harshly, or simply not give her the opportunity to shine.
Misogyny disguised as fashion “critique” and expertise
I want to share a couple of personal experiences that illustrate how this phenomenon manifests. During my training years, I had a professor (a man, openly gay) who continuously belittled my ideas. I remember that in my final collection project his critiques went beyond the academic: I sensed a certain disdain, as if my brilliance made him uncomfortable. Later, in the professional field, a young photographer—also from the fashion scene, also gay—even “outed” me on social media: in his Instagram “close friends” he opened the door for people to speak ill of me and rant behind my back. (I also recounted this episode in my previous article on “The tyranny of fashion in Mexico”). Both cases hurt me especially because they came from people whom, due to their sexual orientation, I would have considered natural allies against machismo, and it turned out to be quite the opposite.
Unfortunately, my anecdotes are not isolated. Various women in the industry recount similar experiences: condescending comments, ferocious critiques not of their work but of their person, of THEIR BODIES, displays of superiority. Often these misogynistic attitudes are veiled under the supposed authority of the “fashion expert.” In other words, they are justified as mere professional opinions, honest or “sincere,” when in reality they cross the line into sexist attack. An article in Contra Corriente precisely highlights how some gay men feel entitled to cruelly judge women under the guise of “knowing fashion.” “When it comes to women and their way of dressing, I’ve heard countless comments from gay men, such as: ‘That dress makes her look cheap,’ ‘she looks like she doesn’t bathe,’ ‘she has cellulite,’ ‘she’s fat,’ among others. The worst part is… many feel entitled to comment on a woman’s body in a derogatory and macho way; it’s almost as if they forget that they are still men.” This last phrase is key: they forget that they’re still men. In other words, some seem to think that by being gay their words don’t hurt or aren’t misogynistic, when they very much are.
This type of everyday misogyny in fashion ranges from critiques of women’s bodies or appearance to disrespectful treatment in the workplace. How many times have we seen a certain creative director (brilliant and celebrated) treat his female collaborators with impatience or humiliation? Or stylists mocking a model’s physique backstage? Comments like “she’s fat,” “how vulgar she looks,” “she seems crazy” often come from gay male mouths who, ironically, may consider themselves modern or “deconstructed.” As a friend once told me: just because you’re attracted to men doesn’t mean you love women. It sounds harsh, but it describes what we sometimes feel: a certain disdain toward the feminine coming from those we least expected.
Patriarchy exists within the LGBTQ+ community too
It’s necessary to understand that machismo is a deeply rooted system that can permeate anyone, even groups or individuals who suffer another form of discrimination. A gay man experiencing homophobia does not mean he cannot, in turn, reproduce learned misogyny. Feminist writer Diana J. Torres reflects precisely on this in her column “Maricón Misogyny.” She recounts that she adored her “queer” friends (a term she reclaims) because they saved her from oppressive heterosexual environments when she was younger. However, upon embracing feminism “she could never see them in the same way again,” because despite all their sexual dissidence “they continued to be and live as men, that is, with a ton of privileges and… with a lot of internalized misogyny.” In other words, they remained in the position of men in society, with the advantages that entails, and had absorbed many prejudices against women without even realizing it.
Diana Torres provides very clear examples of these fissures in the supposed women-gay alliance: “their way of speaking about bodies with vulvas”—that is, female bodies—set off alarms for her. “You have no idea how many times I’ve seen them express… their disgust for our pussies, for our fluids, for our hair, our fat, our folds. There’s not a single part of our bodies they haven’t belittled in my presence,” she confesses indignantly. This testimony may be shocking, but many women recognize it: that attitude of disgust or mockery toward bodily femininity that some gay men express, whether by making crude jokes about menstruation or using derogatory terms for female anatomy. It’s a type of misogyny sometimes normalized under the pretext of humor or “honesty,” but it still hurts.
Another manifestation is the way femininity is parodied in certain LGBTQ+ spaces. For example, drag art is transgressive and wonderful, but Diana Torres points out that some cisgender men practice it frivolously, without considering that they will never suffer the daily disadvantages of being a woman in machista societies. Dressing as a “lady” for a few hours for the show can be liberating and subversive, yes, but afterward those men can take off the wig and return to the comfort of their male privilege. Women, on the other hand, cannot undress their gender at the end of the day; we live 24/7 with the consequences of being women. That’s why it hurts and outrages when some mock us without empathy, without thinking about what it means to walk through life in our skin.
None of this implies, I insist, that all homosexual men have these attitudes. It would be unfair and inaccurate to say so. But it does mean that we must eradicate the idea that by being gay you’re automatically an “ally” or immune to machismo. In an article in the Los Angeles Times, Rich Benjamin notes that heterosexual and gay men can be equally sexist, but with different nuances: heterosexuals “need” something from women (sex, affection, companionship) and therefore “their misogyny tends to be more disguised,” while homosexuals, “needing less from women… feel free to tell them exactly what they think,” so gay misogyny can be cruder and more direct. This reflection resonated SO MUCH with me (they truly have no filters): that professor and that photographer I mentioned earlier had no qualms making me feel less, partly perhaps because they expected nothing from me (neither my love, nor my approval, nor my attention). In contrast, the heterosexual men who have belittled me did so in more veiled ways, probably because they care about maintaining a certain good image so as not to close doors with women anyway. (which, of course, flopped, right? but oh well)
Toward more respectful and conscious collaboration
Faced with all this, what am I seeking by pointing out the misogyny coming from gay men in fashion? In my case, it is not to sow discord among communities or generate empty controversy. On the contrary, what I want is to open a necessary dialogue so that the fashion industry—and hopefully society in general—becomes a more equitable and conscious space for all people. Women deserve to develop in the creative world without running into gender prejudices at every turn, wherever they come from. And gay men, as fellow travelers in the quest for liberation, can (and should) reflect on how some attitudes perpetuate the same sexism they themselves also flee from. Likewise, brands and executives would do well to examine whom they’re giving opportunities to and why, lest they—consciously or not—overlook great women creators.
Fashion, with all its avant-garde flair, still has much internal work to do. It’s encouraging to see more and more voices speak openly about this. Whether it’s a young female designer raising her voice against unfair treatment, a journalist exposing inequality figures, or an LGBTQ+ creator examining their own machista biases, every voice adds up to drive change. Recognizing the problem is the first step. Gay men who love fashion—and many of them also love the women in their lives, whether as friends, muses, creators, family—owe it to question those learned behaviors: Does denigrating a female colleague really help? Why replicate the machismo that causes so much harm instead of eradicating it together?
At the end of the day, being an ally means fighting side by side. Just as many women have been historical allies in LGBT liberation, it’s fair to expect that reciprocal support in the feminist struggle. We cannot afford to divide when the common goal should be fashion (and a society) free of discrimination, whether by gender or orientation. Pointing out the misogyny exerted by gay men isn’t “betraying” anyone—it’s inviting our gay friends, colleagues, and bosses to a deeper level of empathy and understanding. It’s telling them: “I respect and support you in your fight; I only ask that you also respect mine.”
In conclusion, the fashion industry needs both women’s talent and everyone’s (hetero men, gay men, everyone’s) commitment to eradicate machismo in all its forms. Let’s talk about these attitudes without fear; let’s break that uncomfortable silence. Because only by exposing misogyny—wherever it comes from—can we begin to dismantle it. And because, in an ideal world, creativity, innovation, and fashion glamour should be enjoyed in equality, without any woman having to prove her worth a thousand times over or endure another comment that diminishes her. Let’s make fashion a truly inclusive space, where diversity doesn’t mean “some yes and others no,” but all, all, and everyone on the same level of respect.
Sources:
-vice.com “Los hombres gais que odian a las mujeres”
-nssmag.com “Five female-founded French brands we should all support”
-nssmag.com. Why are female creative directors still rare in the luxury sector?
-contracorriente.red La crítica de moda como arma de machismo y homofobia.
-opinion51.com “Misoginia marica”
-latimes.com. Gay men need to be feminists, too
Recommended Reading
Diana Crane, Fashion and Its Social Agendas: Class, Gender, and Identity in Clothing, University of Chicago Press, 2000.