Commentary
The Joker as queer icon
Cesar Romero’s camp performance is part of my gay coming of age
That Cesar Romero was a gay man is not a revelation at this point—scandalous or otherwise. During his years as a studio contract star in the 1930s to the early 1950s, he participated in the dream machine fantasy of dating eligible Hollywood actresses, but looking back at his fan magazine coverage today, it never seems forced or false. He and Joan Crawford laugh uproariously in each other’s arms; he shares a cigarette with Ann Sheridan with a gleeful, conspiratorial gleam in his eye; he winks at Betty Furness with a clear sense of intimacy.
He’s clearly having a blast. Romero is lucky that something he is genuinely passionate about—dancing and nightclubbing—makes him appear as something of a hetero wolf to movie fans. He doesn’t have to pretend as much as other gay stars. Tall, masculine, and graceful, he satisfies the dictates of the era in terms of what being a man is all about. That his ironic nickname is “Butch” is never given much scrutiny. So how does this hunk become a gay icon?
Of course, as far as I’m concerned, dancing with Carmen Miranda is enough to qualify. Miranda dances with many others in her fruity Technicolor fantasies—Wallace Beery, Steve Cochran, Groucho Marx, Dean Martin—but no one else matches her energy level and attitude the way Romero does in “Week-End in Havana” and “Springtime in the Rockies,”though in the latter it’s a group number. Miranda is part of his legacy in other ways. There’s also a censored Fox publicity photo where he is hoisting her in a lift that reveals Carmen is no fan of a Brazilian wax. And a woman in California identifies as the daughter of Carmen and Cesar, though without DNA analysis, the claim is impossible to prove or disprove. For the record, she acknowledges Cesar’s sexuality—just claims that Carmen brought out his fluidity. And if a gay man is going to sleep with a woman, it does seem appropriate that the woman in question would be Carmen Miranda.
Cesar Romero is in the business almost 40 years before “Batman”comes along in 1966. In those years he goes from Broadway dancer to Latin lover, from Shirley Temple’s “exotic” kidnapper to the Cisco Kid, from sociopathic gangster to perennial variety show guest star. Always a leading man. Always a romantic possibility. He is almost 60 when he plays the Joker for the first time. His full-bodied, hammy, joyful performance vaults him into pop cultural superstardom. He’s on lunch boxes, school supplies, board games, T-shirts, jigsaw puzzles, and trading cards; he becomes an action figure and a Halloween mask; toys inspired by him include joy buzzers, squirting flowers, and trick guns; and the character goes from being one of many Batmanvillains to rivaling the popularity of the Caped Crusaders themselves.
I believe that letting go of the masculine myth of leading man stardom is really what makes the Joker possible. It’s what lets Romero cut loose so wildly. There are usually a few buxom girls hanging around his lair, but Adam West gets his full attention. It isn’t until the late 1970s, when “Batman”is in afternoon reruns, that I see Romero as the Joker for the first time. I fall in love immediately, and it is the camp element that attracts. This is not just my introduction to the Joker and Romero; it is my first real exposure to live-action superheroes of any kind, leaving me with a sense of the genre being great fun and, more important, as a place that is queer friendly, though I don’t have the vocabulary or sense of cultural identity to articulate it in that way at the time. The only other nascent LGBTQIA+ representation in the media I remember from that era is also camp—with the usual suspects—performers like Charles Nelson Reilly, Paul Lynde, Rip Taylor, and Wayland Flowers and Madame (a phenomenally popular ventriloquist and his garrulous drag queen-like puppet). More serious fare, like “That Certain Summer”and “Boys in the Band,” is not in my childhood experience, and the idea of lesbians, bisexuals, and trans people is not yet on my radar.
I recognize these men as projections of my future self. While I don’t imagine myself growing up and plotting the demise of grown men who wear their underpants outside of their tights, I recognize the humor, the mannerisms, and the undercurrents if not the physicality of the innuendos. And Cesar Romero takes no shit. By the end of the first of each two-episode story, he’s always winning. I know he will lose by the end of the second part, but on some level, I recognize that as a fulfillment of the narrative demands of the form rather than as a personal loss for him. To me, he is a winner, and I like that very much. I’m an effeminate kid, thankfully not bullied or particularly singled out, but for a variety of reasons, I don’t feel very powerful. The Joker’s wild abandon is inspiring and empowering in a cockeyed sort of way. It has nothing to do with conforming to anyone’s idea of being masculine, and it has everything to do with proudly letting your freak flag fly.
In 1989, when “Batman”gets its historic reboot, the menace of Jack Nicholson is startlingly different from Cesar Romero. By the time of the Oscar-winning performances of Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix, as well as Jared Leto, where the Joker becomes a truly frightening psychopath, Nicholson comes to seem relatively lighthearted, closer to Romero than to Ledger or Phoenix. The camp is mostly gone, but not the queerness. An underlying gender fluidity still informs the Joker through all of the live-action performances, and the character’s erotic obsession with Batman has deepened. With Romero it never had a truly carnal edge. By the time we hit Ledger, Phoenix, and Leto—the character appears entirely pansexual—frankly it’s the most recognizably human part of him that remains in his current incarnation. My original notion of the superhero space being LGBTQIA+ friendly has proven spectacularly accurate—prescient even. Now, Robin, Harley Quinn, Catwoman, and Batwoman are all queer identifying across various media. But Cesar Romero got there first, and for me, his lighthearted, gleeful camp performance will always be a part of my own gay coming of age. Hail Cesar.
Samuel Garza Bernstein is an award-winning author, screenwriter, and playwright. His latest book is ‘Cesar Romero: The Joker Is Wild.’
Commentary
Protecting the trans community is not optional for elected allies and candidates
One of oldest political tactics is blaming vulnerable group for societal woes
Being an ally to the trans community is not a conditional position for me, nor should it be for any candidate. My allyship doesn’t hinge on polling, focus groups, or whether courage feels politically convenient. At a time when trans people, especially trans youth of color, are under coordinated attack, elected officials and candidates must do more than offer quiet support. We must take a public and solid stand.
History shows us how these moments begin. One of the oldest political tactics is to single out the most vulnerable and blame them for society’s anxieties — not because they are responsible, but because they are easier to blame than those with power and protection. In Nazi Germany, Jewish people were primarily targeted, but they were not the only demographic who suffered elimination. LGBTQ people, disabled people, Romani communities, political dissidents, and others were also rounded up, imprisoned, and killed. Among the earliest acts of fascistic repression was the destruction of Berlin’s Institute for Sexual Science, a pioneering center for gender-affirming care and LGBTQ research. These books and medical records were among the first to be confiscated and burned. It is not a coincidence that these same communities are now the first to suffer under this regime, they are our canaries in the coal mine signaling what’s to come.
Congress, emboldened by the rhetoric of the Donald Trump campaign, recently passed HR 3492 to criminalize healthcare workers who provide gender-affirming healthcare with fines and imprisonment. This bill, sponsored by celebrity politicians like Marjorie Taylor Greene, puts politics and headlines over people and health outcomes. Healthcare that a number of cis-gendered people also benefit from byway of hair regeneration and surgery, male and female breast augmentation, hormone replacement therapy etc. Even when these bills targeting this care do not pass, they do real damage. They create fear among patients, legal uncertainty for providers, and instability for clinics that serve the most marginalized people in our communities.
Here in D.C., organizations like Planned Parenthood and Whitman-Walker Health are lifelines for many communities. They provide gender-affirming care alongside primary care, mental health services, HIV treatment, and preventative medicine. When healthcare is politicized or criminalized, people don’t wait for court rulings — they delay care, ration medication, or disappear from the system entirely.
As a pharmacist, I know exactly what that means. These are life-saving medications. Continuity of care matters. Criminalizing and politicizing healthcare does not protect children or families — it puts lives at risk.
Instead of centering these realities, political discourse has been deliberately diverted toward a manufactured panic about trans women in sports. Let me be clear: trans women deserve to be protected and allowed to compete just like anyone else. Athletics have always included people with different bodies, strengths, and abilities. Girls and women will always encounter competitors who are stronger or faster — that is not a gender or sports crisis, it is the nature of competition.
Sports are meant to teach fairness, mutual respect, and the shared spirit of competition — not suspicion or exclusion. We should not police young people’s bodies, and we should reject attempts to single out trans youth as a political distraction. Families and doctors should be the authority on sex and gender identity.
This narrative has been cynically amplified by the right, but too often Democrats have allowed it to take hold rather than forcefully rejecting it. It is imperative to pay attention to what is happening — and to push back against every attempt to dehumanize anyone for political gain.
Trans people have always been part of our communities and our democracy. Protecting the most vulnerable is not radical — it is the foundation of a just society. My work is grounded in that commitment, and I will not waver from it. I’m proud to have hired trans political team Down Ballot to lead my campaign for DC Council At Large. We need more ally leaders of all stages to stand up for the LGBTQ+ community. We must let elected detractors know that when they come for them, then they come for all of us. We cannot allow Fox News and social media trolls to create a narrative that scares us away from protecting marginalized populations. We must stand up and do what’s right.
Anything less is not leadership.
Rep. Oye Owolewa is running for an at-large seat on the D.C. Council.
Commentary
America is going in the wrong direction for intersex children
Lawmakers are criminalizing care for trans youth, while permitting irreversible harm to intersex babies
I live with the consequences of what America is willing to condone in the name of “protecting children.”
When I was young, doctors and adults made irreversible decisions about my body without my informed consent. They weren’t responding to an emergency. They were responding to discomfort with innate physical differences and the social and medical pressure to make a child’s body conform to a rigid female-male binary. That’s the part people like to skip over when they talk about “child welfare”: the harm didn’t begin with my identity. It started with adults deciding my healthy body needed fixing.
That’s why the hypocrisy unfolding right now from statehouses to Capitol Hill feels so familiar, and so dangerous.
While harmful medical practices on intersex children, the nearly 2 percent born with differences in one or more of their physical sex characteristics, have been ongoing in the U.S. for decades, until recently, there was no law specifically condoning it.
This month, House Republicans passed one of the most extreme anti-trans bills in modern American history, advancing legislation that would criminalize gender-affirming medical care for transgender youth and threaten doctors with severe penalties for providing evidence-based treatment. The bill is framed as a measure to “protect children,” but in reality, it weaponizes the criminal legal system against families and providers who are trying to support young people in surviving adolescence.
At the same time, the administration has proposed hospital and insurance policies designed to choke off access to affirming care for trans youth nationwide by making providers fear loss of federal funding, regulatory retaliation, or prosecution. This is a familiar strategy: don’t just ban care outright; instead, make it so risky that hospitals stop providing it altogether. The result is the same everywhere. Young people lose access to care that major medical associations agree can be lifesaving.
All of this is happening under the banner of preventing “irreversible harm.”
But if America were genuinely concerned about irreversible harm to minors, the first thing lawmakers would address is the medically unnecessary, nonconsensual surgeries still performed on intersex infants and young children, procedures that permanently alter healthy tissue, often without urgent medical need, and long before a child can meaningfully participate in the decision. Human rights organizations have documented for years how these interventions are justified not by medical necessity, but by social pressure to make bodies appear more typically “female” or “male.”
Here is the uncomfortable truth: all of the state laws now banning gender-affirming care for transgender youth explicitly include exceptions that allow nonconsensual and harmful intersex surgeries to continue.
A recent JAMA Health Forum analysis found that 28 states have enacted bans on gender-affirming care for minors that carve out intersex exceptions, preserving doctors’ ability to perform irreversible “normalizing” procedures on intersex children even while prohibiting affirming care for trans adolescents.
This contradiction is not accidental. It reveals the real priority behind these laws.
If the goal were truly to protect children from irreversible medical interventions, intersex kids would be protected first. Instead, these policies target one group of children, transgender youth, while continuing to permit permanent interventions on another group whose bodies challenge the same rigid sex and gender binary that lawmakers are trying to enforce.
Intersex people are routinely erased from American policy debates, except when our bodies are invoked to justify harmful laws, warning that intersex children are being used as legal loopholes rather than protected as human beings. This “protect the children” rhetoric is routinely deployed to justify state control over bodies, while preserving medical practices that stripped intersex children like me of autonomy, good health, and choice. Those harms are not theoretical. They are lifelong.
What makes this moment even more jarring is that the federal government had finally begun to recognize intersex people and attempt to address the harms suffered.
In 2024, at the very end of his term, the Biden administration released the first-ever intersex health equity report — a landmark admission that intersex people have been harmed by the U.S. health care system. Issued by the Department of Health and Human Services, the report documents medically unnecessary interventions, lack of informed consent, and systemic erasure and recommends delaying irreversible procedures until individuals can meaningfully participate in decisions about their own bodies.
This should have been a turning point. Instead, America is moving in the opposite direction.
On day one, President Trump issued an executive order defining “sex” in a way attempting to delegitimize the existence of transgender Americans that also erased the existence of many intersex people.
When medicine is used to erase difference, it is called protection, while care that supports self-understanding is treated as a threat. This is not about medicine. It is about control.
You cannot claim to oppose irreversible harm to children while legally permitting surgeries that intersex adults and human rights experts have condemned for decades. You cannot claim to respect bodily autonomy while denying it selectively, based on whose bodies make lawmakers uncomfortable.
Protecting children means protecting all children, transgender, intersex, and cisgender alike. It means delaying irreversible interventions when they are not medically necessary. It means trusting and supporting young people and families over politicians chasing culture-war victories.
America can continue down the path of criminalizing care for some children while sanctioning harm to others, or it can finally listen to the people who have lived the consequences.
Intersex children deserve laws that protect their bodies, not politics that hurt and erase them.
Kimberly Zieselman is a human rights advocate and the author of “XOXY: A Memoir”. The author is a co-author of the JAMA Health Forum article cited, which examined state laws restricting gender-affirming care.
Today, on World AIDS Day, we honor the resilience, courage, and dignity of people living with HIV everywhere especially refugees, asylum seekers, and queer displaced communities across East Africa and the world.
For many, living with HIV is not just a health journey it is a journey of navigating stigma, borders, laws, discrimination, and survival.
Yet even in the face of displacement, uncertainty, and exclusion, queer people living with HIV continue to rise, thrive, advocate, and build community against all odds.
To every displaced person living with HIV:
• Your strength inspires us.
• Your story matters.
• You are worthy of safety, compassion, and the full right to health.
• You deserve a world where borders do not determine access to treatment, where identity does not determine dignity, and where your existence is celebrated not criminalized.
Let today be a reminder that:
• HIV is not a crime.
• Queer identity is not a crime.
• Seeking safety is not a crime.
• Stigma has no place in our communities.
• Access to treatment, care, and protection is a human right.
As we reflect, we must recommit ourselves to building systems that protect not punish displaced queer people living with HIV. We must amplify their voices, invest in inclusive healthcare, and fight the inequalities that fuel vulnerability.
Hope is stronger when we build it together.
Let’s continue to uplift, empower, and walk alongside those whose journeys are too often unheard.
Today we remember.
Today we stand together.
Today we renew hope.
Abraham Junior lives in the Gorom Refugee Settlement in South Sudan.
