These words, once part of the lingo exclusive to LGBTQ+ communities, have made their way into everyday language. What’s particularly interesting is how they’ve surpassed their origins, becoming mainstream without many people being aware of where they came from. This shift in language shows how culture evolves and reflects the profound impact queer culture has had on shaping modern communication. 

However, it also points to how much of that influence goes unacknowledged, as queer culture often doesn’t receive the recognition it deserves for its contributions to mainstream society.

Let’s focus specifically on the dimension of power distance. In low power distance cultures, like North America, there’s a fluid exchange of language across different social groups. This openness allows terms that originated in marginalized spaces, such as queer culture, to gain traction in mainstream language without requiring formal approval.

Queer slang was born out of necessity, as LGBTQ+ people carved out their own space in a world that often neglected or oppressed them. It was a way to establish identity and foster solidarity, and as society became more inclusive, these terms were able to move beyond their original context.

However, there’s a downside to this assimilation.

When queer slang enters mainstream culture, it risks losing the sense of community and resistance that initially gave it power. Words like "mama" and "slay" were once powerful forms of expression, and tools used to unite and empower marginalized groups. But as they become mainstream, their meaning can become diluted, transformed into just another trendy phrase.

When someone in a basic outfit posts a picture on Instagram and the comments read “okayyyy mama”, "yaas queen" etc., it can be said with almost certainty that this girl is not embodying what “mama” at its roots stands for. Once again the words usage as slang originated in ballroom and it stood for a mother of a house. A strong leader, often a transgender woman, who took people under her wings and provided them with a place to stay and a family. 

In a low power distance culture, people from different social backgrounds can use the same language, but this doesn’t necessarily mean the power structures that marginalized queer communities to begin with have changed. So celebrities, like CharlieXCX here in my example video, can use slang for fun and entertainment yet the people that created the slang still face discrimination.

This loss of significance highlights the tension between individual and collective identity within queer communities. As the masses adopt queer slang, the potential for it to lose its depth and connection to its roots becomes an inevitable byproduct of mainstreaming. While it’s exciting to see these terms become more widely accepted, it’s crucial to remember the cultural weight they carry and the communities that created them.

Queer slang's journey from being developed in niche communities to ending up in mainstream culture provides a fascinating lens to explore individualism versus collectivism.

In societies where individualism is prominent, such as the United States and Canada, personal expression and identity are highly valued. Because of this now-existing freedom of expression, the widespread usage of queer slang makes sense. It allows people, queer or not, to show their individuality through language that, to many, wasn't available before. 

Terms like "slay" or "yas" became popular because they represent more than just words, they are feelings of empowerment nicely packaged into words. Having these terms originate from an inherently oppressed subculture just makes sense, who needed/needs more empowerment than those who are oppressed? 

For many, using these terms offers a way to assert their uniqueness, and distinguish themselves from others.

This is why the roots of queer slang in collectivism are so crucial. In the queer community, language serves as a tool of solidarity, creating a collective identity that helps members navigate a world that has often marginalized us. It's like a shared code of solidarity. A way of knowing you are not alone in a room, whereas for members of mainstream culture, it's just another expression to use. 

Queer slang represented more than just communication; it was a form of resistance against a world that imposed heteronormative values, thus fostering a tight-knit, supportive community. When queer slang shifted to mainstream use, it blurred the lines between individualism and collectivism.

When slang loses its cultural context, it becomes disconnected from the shared history and struggle of the communities that birthed it, diminishing its power to foster solidarity. (Owusu, 2024)

Thus, queer slang’s evolution from collectivism to individualism offers a compelling example of how cultural dimensions interact and shape communication. By understanding this dynamic, we can better appreciate the complexities of cultural exchange in today's globalized world and we can hopefully start to do some research before just adopting slang because it sounds cool.

In queer culture, slang like “slay” or “yas” embodies a certain fluidity, often linked to breaking gender norms and celebrating individuality, regardless of what society deems “masculine” or “feminine.” The terms aren't just about empowerment; they are about rejecting traditional gender constraints and celebrating a defiance of those expectations. (Goodwin, 2024)

But when these terms move into mainstream North American culture, they take on a different flavour. Masculinity in particular, dominates many spaces in mainstream culture, and terms like “slay” lose the nuance they once had in queer circles. In a more traditionally masculine context, they become little more than compliments or trendy phrases, stripped of their rebellious edge.

Or worse, they get used as insults.

The gendered significance gets flattened out, and queer slang is reduced to something everyone can use, without much thought about its deeper connection to queer culture.

This dynamic speaks to the broader clash between individualism and collectivism as well. In queer culture, slang builds community; it’s a shared language of resistance. But in mainstream culture, where the focus tends to lean more on individual expression within existing social structures, those same words are diluted.

The collective purpose fades into the background as the terms are used to fit within the dominant, often more masculine narratives.

The adoption of queer slang into mainstream North American culture shows how language shifts in a society that balances masculinity and femininity in complex ways.

While queer culture uses language to express a more feminine or nonconforming identity, the mainstream adopts and moulds it to fit neatly into a masculine, success-driven context. The result? A loss of the original cultural power these terms once held.

The adoption of queer slang into mainstream culture is a perfect example of this dynamic. The slang starts as a form of rebellion, pushing back against rigid structures, but in the process of being “accepted” by the mainstream, it becomes something safe and less meaningful.

This is where uncertainty avoidance plays a role, mainstream culture seeks certainty and predictability, which can strip away the original power of these words.

North American culture, particularly in Canada, is relatively low in uncertainty avoidance. This openness to new ideas includes the rapid adoption of new slang.

Queer slang, originally created out of necessity in marginalized communities to foster safe spaces and allow for communication, has now been absorbed into mainstream culture. Mainstream culture does not like linguistic ambiguity, I would even say it doesn't like any form of ambiguity, which means that in order for slang to be mainstream it has to be easily digestible. This can only work if it is taken out of its social context and out of the many layers of history and oppression that formed queer slang. It is often simplified into catchphrases, robbing them of their subversive power.

This level of low uncertainty avoidance demonstrates a willingness to embrace new influences, though often without fully grasping their origins. The term “queen,” once a term of empowerment and identity within the queer community, is now casually used in mainstream speech, often fully disconnected from its historical context of resistance and survival.

Queer culture thrives on pushing boundaries and rejecting rigid definitions. It’s about challenging expectations, embracing fluidity, and resisting the need for certainty. (Ricardo, 2020) Meanwhile, mainstream North American culture, despite its relative openness to new language, still leans toward predictability and structure. This contrast is evident in how queer slang, once rooted in identity and defiance, is reshaped to fit a more commercialized mould.

This shift shines light on a deeper issue: mainstream culture picks and chooses what it likes from a marginalized subculture. It embraces the language but not the struggle. The commodification of queer slang serves as a reminder that while mainstream society may borrow from queer culture, true understanding and allyship require more than just adopting the words. It requires acknowledging and respecting the history behind them. It requires intercultural communication with a willingness to learn from queer culture.

North American mainstream culture is open to adopting queer slang but not open enough to do so without modifying it to remove ambiguity and complexity.

It was a form of reclaiming power in a world that often sought to silence or oppress LGBTQ+ voices. For the queer community, it was a tool of self-expression, empowerment, and even community bonding, as it allowed people to assert themselves in the face of societal rejection.

However, as "read" crossed over into mainstream North American culture, it began to lose its edge. While it’s still used to describe a sharp critique or insult, it’s often stripped of its original cultural context and meaning. Now, you’ll hear people saying things like “she read him for filth” in everyday conversation, but it’s often done casually, without acknowledging the history behind the term.

It is also often used in the wrong context when someone gets blatantly insulted... which is not what reading is supposed to be about. Or when in the instance of the boyfriend mentioned in the screenshot above, someone just states the obvious truth. No reading has been done and it for sure wasn't to or for filth. It is just fun to insult someone and that's what mainstream culture now knows as "reading".

It's no longer just about creating a biting, performative critique; it’s now more of a surface-level trend.

This shift is a clear example of Hofstede's long-term versus short-term orientation. Queer culture, with its long history of marginalization and the need to create its own language to survive, is rooted in a long-term mindset. "Reading" as an art form was about resilience, resistance, and reclaiming power in a society that often shut queer voices down.

Mainstream culture, however, tends to favour short-term gratification. It adopts terms like "read" for their instant appeal, without considering the deeper, more nuanced meaning they originally carried. What was once a fierce statement of identity and defiance is now just another trendy phrase. (Dupins, 2016)

The way "read" has shifted shows the tension between queer culture’s long-term survival and mainstream culture’s short-term, fast-moving trends. It’s a reminder that language is more than just words, it’s deeply connected to culture, history, and identity.

Mainstream North American culture has long been shaped by traditional values that emphasize self-control and adherence to social norms, especially in public spaces. However, queer culture has historically pushed back against these norms, creating its own space to thrive in an environment that often restricted freedom of expression.

Queer slang, like many aspects of queer culture, is rooted in this indulgence: it encourages celebration, rebellion, and embracing one's true identity without fear of judgment. Terms like "I am screaming" reflect a celebratory attitude that promotes indulgence in joy, expression, and authenticity.

These phrases, once used mainly within queer communities, have become popular in mainstream culture, where they are often used in carefree or enthusiastic moments. This shift is significant because it possibly indicates a broader cultural movement towards indulgence, even if it's framed in more commercially acceptable terms. (Dubner, 2021)

Mainstream culture's growing acceptance of these terms reflects a shift from restraint towards indulgence, especially in how language is used. However, this shift can also dilute the depth of meaning in queer slang. Terms that were once used to symbolize defiance and resilience in the face of adversity are now used in a more casual, surface-level way.

The video above, which is a little snipped of an interview between Trixie Matel and Maddy Morphosis (two drag queens) shows the true meaning of gagged while simultaneously showing how "reading" works. Maddy creatively "insults" Trixie by giving her a compliment (you have become famous) while at the same time telling her she did awful on Drag Race. Trixie doesn't know what hit her, she has no response and therefore is "gagged" by its true definition.

As queer slang becomes more widely adopted, it risks losing its connection to the struggles and joys that originally defined it. Queer culture’s emphasis on indulgence, whether in expression, identity, or joy, has profoundly impacted mainstream society, but this influence often comes with a trade-off: a loss of the historical weight and resistance that once gave these terms power.

This example of language adaptation speaks to the complex interaction between indulgence in queer culture and the more restrained elements of mainstream culture, showing how queer culture pushes for freedom while simultaneously influencing broader social norms.

This fits into uncertainty avoidance because the gender ambiguity of a drag queen is under attack here. What is usually a deeply ambiguous craft playing with genders, becomes "too much like the real deal" when a queen looks too cisgender. She looks suspicious...

This is yet another example of a term that got taken from queer culture, watered down and then reemerged in mainstream culture. Anything and everything nowadays slays...

Created by RuPaul (one of the world's most famous drag queens) and premiering in 2009, the show has become a global phenomenon, influencing mainstream culture and elevating drag artistry.

Each season, contestants compete in various challenges that test their charisma, uniqueness, nerve, and talent (that's how Ru puts it at least) ranging from fashion design and lip-sync battles to acting, comedy, and performance-based tasks. Every episode ends with the bottom two queens lip-syncing for their survival, with one being eliminated and having to return home.

A panel of judges, led by RuPaul, critiques the contestants’ performances and looks, often providing both humorous and heartfelt commentary.

Beyond entertainment, Drag Race has played a major role in increasing LGBTQ+ visibility, highlighting issues such as gender expression, self-acceptance, and queer history.

The show has spun off into international versions, with franchises in the UK, Canada, Spain, Germany and beyond.

Then came 2009, Drag Queen Ru Paul scored the deal of a lifetime, a reality TV-based show in which various drag queens compete against each other, aired (back then) on LogoTV. The show gained popularity fast because it was the first of its kind. A show in which drag queens and gay men were not the joke of the show but the main event.

By season 2, the premiere episode had a viewership of 300.000 people, showing its popularity beyond the niche queer community of 2010.

It is through the now 17 seasons of Drag Race US (and the numerous spin-offs) that queer slang made its way into North American living rooms. What could, before Drag race, be only seen at a Drag Brunch or at a gay club, was now on TV.

The nature of the show allowed for the queens to chat and get to know each other between challenges. These talks are all filmed and aired and they are the root of the mainstream adoption of queer slang. The "werkroom" (the place in which they hang out between challenges) is a safe space, yet because everything is filmed, their safe space can be observed by anyone.

Allowing people with no connection to queer culture to pick up slang, movements or jokes that, within the queer culture have a known meaning, but to mainstream culture just appear as cool.

Intercultural communication is by its definition supposed to be transactional and contextual (Lustig & Koester, 2007), yet in the instance of queer slang it is neither. It could be argued that there is a transactional aspect, exposure is exchanged for slang, but the question whether that benefits the queer community remains.

Is exposure at all costs truly what we need? Even if it means core aspects of our culture are taken out of context and watered down for the amusement of mainstream culture?

Can intercultural communication fail? Yes absolutely, think about how easy it is to misunderstand one person in real life, now imagine trying to understand an entire culture with hundreds of years of history.

We are bound to make mistakes but what matters is that we keep trying. Feel free to use "slay", "read", "mama" and all the other wonderful terms of queer culture but learn their origin. Communication only works if both sides participate and an openness to learn on the side of mainstream culture is a necessity for working communication.

mainstream culture: this, in my context, means a society made out of people who are mainly cisgender and heterosexual with low to no exposure to queer people and the queer world.

ballroom: (since I am not a part of ballroom myself, I borrowed a definition from Van Vogue Jam, Vancouver's ballroom scene)

Ballroom culture, drag ball culture, the house-ballroom community, and similar terms describe an underground queer subculture, founded by black trans and queer folks, in which people "walk" (i.e., compete), perform, dance, lip-sync, and model in different categories, which are designed to simultaneously epitomize and satirize gender constructs, occupations, and social classes, while also offering an escape from reality. Category participants are required to “walk” one by one to receive full approval from all judges, known as ‘receiving your 10s’. Competitors are judged on their abilities, “effect” (costumes, appearance, theatrics, presentation), and perceived “realness” (embodied and/or visual believability, authenticity). Those who make their 10s battle one-on-one against each other for trophies, prizes, and glory.

house: a house is a family one chooses. A family made out of queer people who were rejected by their parents and/or mainstream society and came together to build their own system of support. A house is led by a mother (sometimes a father) who usually is a trans woman of colour and who takes on the responsibility of being the role model for her children.

drag queen/queen: A drag queen is a man who dresses in women’s clothes and performs before an audience. (This is the old-school but still mostly true definition but it is beginning to change, queens can now be women, non-binary people and more) Drag shows are largely a subcultural phenomenon. Though drag has never enjoyed mainstream appeal, drag queen is a common enough term in popular culture, partly because of recording artist RuPaul (who we will talk about later on this Padlet)

Yet, nowhere in this article is anyone referencing the origin of throwing shade and additionally, they are using it in a way that isn't true to its roots. In Jennie Livingston's 1990 documentary Paris Is Burning, drag queen Dorian Corey explained: "Shade is, I don’t have to tell you you’re ugly, because you know you’re ugly." (Livingston, 1990)

In its original form, shade is about insinuation rather than outright confrontation. It relies on nuance, confidence, and an understanding of social dynamics. It is something completely different from prohibiting Bernie Sanders access to his own campaign data or scheduling debates on weekends so that fewer people would turn in (these are examples taken directly from the article linked above).

Yet, if one looks up the term on google the first 8 results are basic t shorts worn by what appears to be female models. No breaking of any kind of gender norm in sight... The question arises, is this person really slaying in its original meaning or are they simply wearing a t-shirt with a word that lost all meaning?

Did an entire culture's struggle and history really lose that brutally to consumerism? It seems like it did

Pose focuses on the ballroom community of NYC and on the show, terms like "house", "mother" and "gagged" are used frequently. While within Pose, these terms are used in the correct cultural context, a viewer of the show who doesn't understand the significance of the historical and social context might just pick up a cool word here and there.