Arts & Entertainment
3 min

Sissy, sassy and successful

‘Everything I was ashamed of as a kid made me my fortune’: Leslie Jordan

“I was never in the closet,” says actor Leslie Jordan. “My agent would call me for auditions and say, ‘Okay, Leslie, keep your feet on the ground, your hands at your side and your voice in the lower register.’” Credit: Reaction Productions
While his face is certainly recognizable, it’s Leslie Jordan’s voice that is unmistakable: a delicious, wry drawl that mixes good ol’ Southern-boy charm with naughty gay man to perfection. 
 
From his early days on shows like Newhart to his hilarious scene-stealing antics on Will & Grace, Jordan has fulfilled that rarest of media roles — the effeminate, openly gay actor.
 
I was a frightened teenager when I first saw Jordan on TV. I could scarcely believe my eyes (and ears) when this tiny man flounced his way across the screen in a confident, unapologetic manner that made me realize, “Holy shit . . . I’m not the only one!”
 
To readers still in their teens and 20s, this may not seem a big deal — but let me tell you, to a closeted gay kid in the late 1980s who felt completely isolated and alone, it was the fucking Second Coming. Our tenuous foothold in the mainstream media is due entirely to trailblazing efforts by fearless fairies like Jordan. After all, the vast majority of gay actors stay firmly in the closet for the sake of their careers, hiding behind bachelor swordsman images or the occasional accommodating wife. 
 
Jordan himself admits to early attempts at butching up his image to snag roles. Fortunately for us, these efforts were largely doomed to failure.
 
“I was never in the closet, even though there were certainly plenty of us in the business,” he says. “My agent would call me for auditions and say, ‘Okay, Leslie, keep your feet on the ground, your hands at your side and your voice in the lower register.’” The actor was sure his ruse had proved successful when he was cast as a straight guy on Ellen DeGeneres’s eponymous sitcom back in the 1990s. 
 
“Oh, I butched it up and thought I completely pulled it off until my friend said, ‘Oh, honey, I was watching it with a bunch of people who didn’t know you, and the minute you opened your mouth, they said, “Get a load of her!”’ I guess I just couldn’t wash the sissy off.”
 
Sissy or not, Jordan’s effervescence and flawless timing kept him in regular work in shows like Dharma & Greg, Ally McBeal and Boston Legal. But it was his note-perfect role as trophy husband Beverley Leslie on the groundbreaking Will & Grace that cemented his career and won him an Emmy.
 
“I’ll tell you what,” Jordan begins, in his cozy Tennessee twang, “after all is said and done, I won that award for a television show that has done so much for our tribe. I always say, there are two ways to combat homophobia: through humour or by putting a face on the victims. That show did both.”
 
His new one-man stage show, Fruit Fly, was inspired by photos of his childhood in Chattanooga with his Southern-belle mother, Peggy Ann, still the most important person in his life. 
 
“I’m happier now than I have ever been in my life,” he says. “I’ve done so much, but I’m nowhere near to the point of being put out to pasture.”
 
In addition to Fruit Fly, Jordan is also back on television in the comedy series The Exes, starring Seinfeld’s Wayne Knight and 3rd Rock from the Sun’s Kristen Johnston, and is in talks for a web series that will air as five-minute online webisodes.
 
“I don’t even know what a web series is! And they want to do it in five minutes? What can I possibly do in five minutes? We’re making comedy for no one to watch,” he blurts out unedited.
 
At 58 years of age, Jordan has lived through many of the political and health crises that have faced our community and has emerged grateful for having survived the experiences.
 
“I buried an entire telephone directory to AIDS in the ’80s,” he says. “Honey, I was right there in the alleys and the dirty bookstores, and there’s no reason for me to be here now. Then the ’90s came and we all discovered crystal meth until it turned on us like a mother-in-law. So when they call me to come and help out, I come.”
 
Proceeds from Fruit Fly’s two-night stop in Vancouver, produced by the non-profit Fillmore Family Foundation, will benefit Out in Schools, A Loving Spoonful and the McLaren Housing Society.
 
“I am of the first generation of gay men who have anything to pass on to the younger generation,” Jordan says. “Hell, I remember Stonewall! But will they listen? I don’t know. They’re so busy twittering each other, but we need to pass our stories on and to let kids know that things change.
 
“I mean, look at me: everything I was ashamed of as a kid — being short [he’s four-foot-11], being gay — it’s made me my fortune. I just want to go back to tough guys in high school who’d yell ‘smear the queer’ at me during dodgeball and say, “Hey, kiss my rich gay ass!”