How makeup has evolved as a form of self expression for the queer community

From the eyelashes and lipstick on cartoons to the advertisements you see plastered over billboards, makeup has always been for women. It is seen as something women use to become socially desirable—stretch and contort themselves to fit the beauty standards—a little blush to appeal to men, enough lipstick to leave a nice kiss on the patriarchy. 

Makeup has always been seen as something to be done for men, yet makeup has never been seen, in any other capacity, as for men. Yet there is no biological predisposition that makes women buy mascara and not men, no decree that says makeup exists to impose conformity. The makeup industry has always targeted women as its only consumer base, both reflecting and shaping societal ideals. 

Makeup starts out as an art form from a young age, when you use your mother’s lipstick to carve the shape of your mouth, and doodle on yourself with kajal. It’s a form of expression, with the techniques and intricacies of art. Whether it’s matching colours, tracing lines perfectly or emphasising autonomy over your own appearance, it can be as powerful an art form as any, yet is constantly dismissed as frivolous or feminine. 

For the queer community, makeup has always been about expressing yourself. For centuries, drag queens have worn makeup to portray a persona; in India, the gender-non-conforming Hijra community uses makeup such as kohl to accentuate their eyes, and other cosmetic products to accentuate their femininity; gay men in the 60s in New York and London would use makeup as identifiers for each other. In such ways, makeup becomes a social unifier. 

Makeup as resistance is deeply rooted in queer history. The ballroom scene of the 1980s and '90s, predominantly led by Black and Latinx LGBTQ+ individuals, used makeup, fashion, and performance as a means of survival and self-expression. Drag queens and kings, often at the forefront of LGBTQ+ activism, have used makeup not only to entertain but to challenge societal constraints. Spearhead figures of the queer movement, like Marsha P. Johnson in the United States, wield makeup as a weapon against social norms—a subtle yet resounding rebellion. 

Whether it's between women copying your mother’s style and using her products, or your teenage friends doing your makeup before you go out or between communities, makeup is transcendental. Makeup is transformative; it gives you the ability to mould yourself. That makes it a highly valuable tool to express oneself, to transform oneself into art. 

Most importantly, makeup is a form of resistance. Visibility itself becomes an act of rebellion. Makeup allows individuals to express their identities unapologetically. Whether it’s a trans woman using makeup to affirm her gender or any individual pushing the gender-bound edges of the industry, makeup can be a powerful declaration of selfhood. The act of visibly embracing one's identity, especially in spaces where queerness is marginalised can serve as a radical form of resistance.

The cosmetics industry was built on a foundation of whitewashing, where foundation would be in lighter shades only, or blush would only work for cool-toned white women. However, slowly, makeup became a reflection of social change as well as an instrument to implement social change—shade ranges became wider, POC-owned makeup brands gained popularity, and marketing became more inclusive. For example, Huda Beauty was a pioneering brand that created cosmetic products for brown-skinned women, catering to their needs and shade ranges. 

Much of makeup’s power comes from its accessibility. Most homes, no matter which economic class or social strata, have access to some shape or form of cosmetics. In India itself, cosmetics should be decolonised. India has such a rich fabric of indigenous, herbal makeup, such as mehndi/henna, kajal made from mustard oil and charcoal, or lipstick made from berries. Incorporating our organic practices into the cosmetics industry would benefit cultural expressions of makeup, as well as utilise safer and more sustainable products.  Similarly, as makeup becomes increasingly recognised as a genderless art form, more brands are embracing inclusivity. Gender-neutral makeup lines and queer-led beauty brands, like Gagged or Kai by Mangi,  continue to push boundaries, ensuring that makeup remains a tool for self-expression rather than a means of enforcing norms. 

Makeup will always belong to the people who use it to tell their stories and blend out the lines society draws for us. It is a medium through which we make ourselves desirable, whether to society or to ourselves—but the choice lies with us on how we want to use it. The practice of makeup must be carved into something that works for the people who use it, make it and enhance it, rather than against them. It is our duty to ensure that it remains a tool of self-expression and not segmentation and gender identity and the duty of the industry to follow the path to creative resistance. 

Text by Kaavya Mukherjee Saha