NO HOMO!
How Anti-Gay Rhetoric in Music Influenced Teen Cinema of the ‘90s
BY JULES CROSBY
Teen cinema of the ‘90s reflected the anti-establishment sentiment of fringe movements in music, propelling directors to address more taboo topics with brazen confidence. Influenced by unconventional rock and hip-hop music, teen cinema of this decade was bolder in its approach to conversations about teen drug use and sex, but ironically denser in its examination of sexuality. House Party (1990) makes progressive statements about the teenage experience, but relegates queerness to punchlines, comic relief and gross typecasting. Just like the music it was influenced by.
Hip-hop music led to the mainstream prominence of AAVE or African American Vernacular English (i.e.: ‘chillax,’ ‘fly,’ ‘ice’ and ‘tight’). Among these fashionable new phrases was every gay kid’s worst nightmare: “no homo.” The term ‘No Homo’ derived from East Harlem slang, entering the hip-hop lexicon in the early ‘90s with the contributions of Cam’ronand his Diplomats. The phrase became popularized as a pre-emptive verbal defense for rappers to use against accusations of homosexuality and affirm their masculinity at all costs. ‘No Homo’ was further made fashionable by the culture of homophobia that also permeated the alternative rock and electronic music scene in the nineties.
And it is not to say all hip-hop and alternative scenes were homophobic, I would never speak in absolutes. In fact, there were documented strides made in the right direction for gay folks in these communities. I could author an entire separate paper on the impact of queer-core rock and “homo hop” (shoutout Pansy Division and Rainbow Flava). However, homophobia remains normalized in hip-hop and alternative music scenes, despite both genres’ ostensible mission to support those often left on the outskirts of society. These music subcultures positioned gayness as the ultimate evil and were able to get away with it because of the context of the growing AIDS epidemic and its association with gay men throughout the ‘90s. Gay rock bands, such as Pansy Division, had to navigate homophobic concert promoters and harassment from fans. And one of America’s favorite rap groups, The Beastie Boys, wanted to initially name theircritically acclaimed album Licensed to Ill, “Don’t Be a Faggot,” but were shut down by their record label. Homophobia ran rampant in these communities designed to nurture and support life outside the mainstream. With teens films being informed by alternative and hip-hop music of the ‘90s, homophobia was able to spread just as fast as themes of sex, freedom and drugs. And it is a tragic irony of sorts. These experimental genres of music allowed artists more expression than ever, and whereas that often promoted liberal ideas of equality and justice, it always stopped short of humanizing gay folks.
The most obvious example of music influencing teen films of the ‘90s is Reginald Hudlin’s House Party. The relationship between film and music in this film becomes integral to its essence because it stars infamous figures in rap music, Christopher “Kid” Reid and
Christopher “Play” Martin, known by their stage name Kid ‘n Play. Hudlin’s comedy feature often straddles this space of existing as both an extended music video and structured film at the same time. Hip-hop influences the film in a lot of fun and spunky ways, displaying a vibrant ‘house party’ culture that would go on to define a universal Black teenage experience. Despite minimal drug and alcohol usage in the film, the energy of House Party was delirious– the intro sequence serving as a perfect example. Employing a smoke machine in the first moments, House Party invites viewers inside a mysterious, atmospheric party with thumping bass grooves, funky wardrobe and neon colors.
But fashion was not the only trend House Party appropriated from their favorite hip-hop artists. The film does not hesitate to align itself with explicit homophobia, ultimately deemed acceptable because it is...a hip-hop movie. Here is a spot-on example: Kid goes on a homophobic tirade as he raps in a prison cell towards the end of the film to avoid being raped by his fellow inmates. Some of his bars include: “I don’t want my knees to take the full bend” / “Step back, ask yourself, ‘can it wait?’ / “Or do you want to become an AIDS candidate?” Despite House Party providing historic representation in Black cinema and paving new ground for teenage-centric narratives, gay folks were still deemed the punchline with evident homophobic rhetoric. I found the homophobia in House Party particularly unsettling because of how vital queerness feels to the film’s established universe, from the wardrobe to the campy, elaborate dance numbers. I almost find the perpetuation of anti-gay messaging in this film satirical to an extent because the bullies themselves wear effeminate asymmetrical crop-tops and bold jewelry. Not to conflate gender codes with sexuality, but the queer undertones are almost too ironic to miss. Like come on. Alternative music influences teen cinema of the ‘90s in liberal ways, whether in their commentary about minority representation, sex or feminism. But House Party serves as just one reminder that anti-gay messaging in ‘90s music influenced films too.
The growing indie rock and ska-punk music scenes gave films like K.I.D.S (1995) and Clueless (1995) a fresh edge, but their liberality remains curtailed by persistent homophobia. I love Justin Walker in Clueless, though. A guilty pleasure, I suppose, because the man is quite literally a walking and breathing gay stereotype. Other teen films of the ‘90s also struggled when it came to queer representation. In Scream (1996), gay screenwriter Kevin Williamson hesitates to make Billy and Stu romantic interests, despite basing their relationship off the real-life story of gay mass murderers. Williamson elects to lean on implied gay subtext instead of displaying overt homosexuality, as he would later confirm in an interview with Pride Source. Even as a gay screenwriter himself, Williamson exercises caution in addressing gay subject matter in this film and clouds potential romance with subdued homoeroticism instead. Go (1999), the crime/comedy picture directed by Doug Liman and written by John August, elects to cast older men as gay lovers, suggesting that films of the nineties had yet to figure out the gay, teen experience. Gay adults, however, were considered more digestible for a mass audience. And the queer-coded characterization of Burke (William Fichtner) who constantly flirts with both men makes me wonder if gayness was an intentional element to the film’s narrative or served a more functional role as comedic relief. And despite a cast full of gay icons, John Water’s Cry Baby (1990) keeps its evaluation of homosexuality limited to innuendos and subtle queer coding in its campy material.
Music in the nineties gave cinema the space to be as bold and brash as America’s favorite OutKast or Nirvana song. And that is a good thing. The open conversation around teen sex, drug usage and even depression and anxiety as expressed in Sofia Coppola’s The Virgin Suicides (1999) added depth to a universal teenage experience. But the progressive potential of teen culture in the ‘90s is minimized by constant and repetitive anti-gay rhetoric in music and film alike. Homophobia presents itself in many ways, sometimes through outwards slurs and jokes like “no homo,” but oftentimes, through pure erasure and lack of representation. The teen films alongside the alternative music of the ‘90s were either homophobic in their messaging or treated gayness as mere ornamentation. Art is intersectional, linking the relationship between music and film together, for better or worse. Music has the enormous capability (and responsibility, for that matter) to push progressive conversations into mainstream dialogue. And although the alternative music scenes of the ‘90s finally gave teenagers their voice, it rendered the gay teens voiceless. And this anti-gay attitude spread from music to the big screen. ‘No Homo,’ in effect, was more than just song lyrics; it became a de-facto law that continues to impact gay representation in both music and film to this day.
