Category: Viewer

There was one main thought I had in my mind while watching Paris is Burning…why do these people from 1985 remind me so much of modern-day influencers? Though it might be a stretch, a community for those rejected by 80s society shows shocking similarities to the way that we see influencer in modern-day society. It is important to contextualize what I mean about modern-day influencers that might be similar to the ballroom culture of Harlem. First, the houses. I found the different houses fascinating in this watch. Ballroom participants rally behind a representative/Mother of the house and let that house form their culture and identity of their performance. To me, this shockingly resembled online consumer and fan bases to online celebrities. For example, I constantly see different fan bases for different celebrities create their own fanbase name and create an identity behind that influencer (like “Swifties” for Taylor Swift). Not only was this idea of the house/fanbase mimicked in Paris is Burning, but I found another comparison with the whole notion of “Realness” at the ballroom shows. It is narrated in the documentary that “Realness” is the attempt to mimic a “normal”, straight, wealthy white person as a dress up for the social rejects of the ballrooms. Doing this and successfully mimicking a “normal” person would result in good voting from the judges. With the whole idea of pretending to be something that you are not to pander to an audience, I see a striking similarity to modern-day influencers and the artificial persona that they demonstrate to their audiences. In the digital age, celebrities are not able to live to be their authentic selves. They have PR managers, agents, and fans that judge their every single move – similar to the judging in the 1980s ballrooms.

Overall, this might be a stretch, but I find odd similarities in the way that ballrooms are structured in comparison to modern-day influencers. Do influencers live every day putting up a performance as part of their identity? Do influencers mimic ballrooms from the 80s, except they earn likes and shares instead of clapping from the audience? When making these connections one can truly understand the social and cultural impact of the LGTBQ of 1980s Harlem.

As I was watching “Paris is Burning,” I was reminded of another documentary I had watched called “Stonewall Uprising” which focused on the events of the Stonewall riots that occured in New York City and marked the turning point for LGBT visibility and rights in NYC. I was curious as to how these two events connected to each other and found that the riots occured almost exactly 21 years before the release of “Paris is Burning.”

The Stonewall Riots was a spontaneous riot that that occured when NYC police raided the Stonewall Bar, a popular gay bar where drag queens, gay men, and transgender people often visited as refuge from NYC’s transphobic and homophobic policies. However, the members present fought back against the police, signifying the tipping point for the marginalized and oppressed members of the LGBT and their refusal to take any more abuse. The riot was led mostly by trans women of color, similar to “Paris is Burning.”

“Paris is Burning,” set around 20 years later, shows how this spirit of resistance has carried through history and evolved into new self-expressions and continuing to defy societal norms. Although still oppressed and marginalized, many young LGBT runaways as well as shunned members of society could turn to the widespread drag ball culture to find a family and community. 20 years previously, Stonewall was the only gay bar where gay men were allowed to dance, and drag queens had fought tooth and nail to protect their community. With this background knowledge, I found it extremely touching that these drag queens could now dance freely and even be accepted in some magazines and runway shows. Voguing, performance, and “realness” in “Paris is Burning” can be seen as extensions of the fight that began with Stonewall.

Stonewall and “Paris is Burning” show slices in history of the fight for equality in LGBT communities in New York City, as well as the progression of their rich and unique culture. After watching these two documentaries about the history of NYC’s LGBT culture, I am curious how they have continued to develop into the modern day. From what I am aware of, NYC has one of America’s largest LGBT communities with an extremely thriving culture currently, so I would say that these queens’ struggle proved fruitful for their future children.

How has the fight for LGBT rights developed across the country in various cities other than NYC? And how has the fight progressed in the current political climate?

Watching Jennie Livingston’s Paris is Burning (1990) gave me a fascinating perspective on Harlem’s ballroom culture, a world I hadn’t known much about before. I also don’t watch documentaries very often which made this feel like a unique viewing experience for me both content-wise and stylistically.

One of the elements that stood out most to me was the concept and importance of chosen family. The film emphasizes how the “houses” function not simply as performance groups, but as emotional homes for participants who might not have been accepted in their biological families.They even have familial roles within their Houses, such as mother of the house. I liked the way the participants describe the role of the mother; they talk about how important she is and how she emotionally and financially supports the rest of the family. The House offers a safe haven for many individuals experiencing homelessness or economic hardship, and the sense of belonging feels just as important as the creative expression.

It was really impactful to hear the stories of the participants and learn about why they loved being a part of the ballroom space so much. A specific moment that resonated with me was when one of the participants talked about how performing made them feel famous, recognized, and loved, even if just for a few minutes. That line stuck with me because it felt so universal. Even though I don’t have any connection to ballroom culture, the feeling of wanting to be seen and appreciated for what you’re good at is something most people relate to in their own lives and fields of work. It didn’t seem like a desire for fame, but a longing to be acknowledged and to feel like you matter in the space you choose to exist in.

When thinking about this film in terms of genre, I felt that the documentary format made me feel very immersed in the era. The archival style and raw visual quality made it feel like I was genuinely in late-1980s New York rather than watching a movie from decades ago. I know that movies are often immersive and transport you to a different world, but this felt different than a fictional movie. It was more immediate and intimate rather than a sort of escape. Overall, I enjoyed the experience of being immersed in this unfamiliar world.

Some questions I’m posing to the class: is ballroom “realness” a form of escape, empowerment, or assimilation? Does the camera feel observational, celebratory, exploitative, or something in between? How does the film’s documentary style shape our emotional reaction to the people on screen?

Learning about the history of New York City’s Ballroom culture was genuinely fascinating. There were so many new ideas to me — such as houses, reading, shading, and voguing. Houses are competing teams that go against one another in different categories in Ballroom. However, I believe the idea of a “house” is more than a team; it’s an ideological home where people can love and be loved despite being overlooked or unappreciated in reality. For the participants, the House was a new kind of family. They understood one another, accepted themselves as they were, and learned how to give and receive love.

Throughout the film, it’s mentioned that many of those who participated in the Balls were economically disadvantaged or even homeless. Yet, the Ballroom gave them a reason to dream. Everyone in the film had a dream: to be famous, to be recognized, to be rich, or simply to form a loving family. As you listen to their stories, you realize that their dreams are no different from anyone else’s. People want stability, acknowledgment, love, and belonging — the very same things that society once told them they couldn’t have. The Ballroom, however, became the space where they created their own version of family, culture, and hope.

One thing that struck me deeply was realizing that voguing actually originated from the Ballroom culture. I had seen dancers perform it before, but I had never thought about its history. As I watched the movie, the movements looked familiar. But when they described voguing as a way to “attack each other through a dance,” I was able to recognize and understand it as a new concept.

Overall, this film introduced me to a new culture built on resilience, creativity, and love. It showed how members of the Ballroom community fought to create a space where they could turn their dreams into reality. Everyone has a dream that can sometimes feel impossible to achieve. When faced with the weight of reality, people often hesitate to dream at all.. However, the figures in Paris Is Burning never gave up. They are dreamers, and, in their own way, they are also achievers.

While watching Paris Is Burning, I was fascinated by how the documentary uses its form to make a rhetorical argument about the illusions of “realness.” Through interviews, performances, and their everyday night life, Jennie Livingston doesn’t simply document ballroom culture, but she persuades the viewer to see how identity itself is constructed and performed. The documentary holds power in how it blurs the boundary between reality and illusion, showing that “realness” is both a performance within the ballroom and a mirror of society’s own ideals.

We see in the interviews when explaining realness that is paired with them also embodying it on the runway. Livingston’s use of personal testimonies, like Dorian Corey’s reflections on passing and illusion, becomes a subtle argument: that realness is not deception, but a survival strategy in a world that denies minorities and those of the queer community access to power and success that white cis males receive.

The camera’s observational gaze allows the audience to empathize with the performers rather than judge them. By immersing us in their language, music, rituals, routines, the documentary shows a form of “realness” that is its own kind of truth to the performers. As a way to reclaim agency when reality offers none. Livingston seems to ask us to reconsider what authenticity really means and who gets to define it.

Does Livingston’s portrayal of “realness” empower the ballroom community by revealing their creativity, or does it risk reinforcing the very ideals they’re imitating? What does the film suggest about how we all perform “realness” in our own lives?