The funny thing about black men in dresses

What's more, an act like Thompson's, whose insult to black women is sanctioned by his blackness, may embolden white performers like Charles Knipp, who tours gay clubs in the South in both drag and blackface as the outrageous, mush-mouthed Shirley Q. Liquor. Talk about old school.

The worst type of black drag pays insufficient attention to the humanity of black women. Wilson, by contrast, redeemed his garishly clad soul-sister Geraldine by making sure she always came out on top, especially in opposition to the church and in subverting machismo -- she even turned the king of braggadocio, Muhammad Ali, into a shrinking violet. The devil may have made Geraldine buy that dress, but she chastened her minister husband by reminding him that the Evil One also kept him employed.

For his part, Perry one-ups Geraldine by adding a bevy of down-home aphorisms to his portrayal of Madea. He also bolsters the character's complexity in his movies with a cast that counters her irreverence with melodrama. Ella, Madea's black female sidekick played by Cassie Davis, also helps to legitimize the character's status as a black woman. Not only is the joke never on Madea, but her tendency to whip out a pistol or two when things get out of hand establishes her dominance over her home life. What makes Geraldine and Madea rise above caricature is that Wilson and Perry keep the audience on their side despite their characters' ridiculous behavior, always increasing their credibility as characters -- though not so much as women. Clearly, no one else can play Madea, but it's tantalizing to wonder how differently her role would read if Perry cast an actual black woman in it.

What Chappelle and Singleton may miss out on by refusing to pimp those pumps is the dangerous fun of performing outside the constraints of race and gender. The desire to inhabit the lives and bodies of others doesn't necessarily make you a racist any more than sporting a double-D cup makes a man love men. Often it is inspired by a sense of play, and sometimes it is meant to increase understanding. Actors and writers, especially novelists, frequently do it (with words) to serve progressive political ends -- solo performers Danny Hoch and Anna Deavere Smith frequently channel characters regardless of ethnicity or sex.

But play with volatile social norms like race and gender, to paraphrase dramatist Suzan-Lori Parks, and they play right back. Sometimes they beat you at your own game. Knipp, for example, claims he created Shirley Q. Liquor "in celebration of ... black women"; however, his tacky parody, in which he's made up like a mandrill and drunk as a skunk, doesn't bear out this claim. It would be hypocritical to say that white men shouldn't dress as black women if they feel it's their calling -- when black drag queen RuPaul achieved his dream of being a white lady, no one cried foul. But the most successful would-be cross-dresser can create a character without perpetuating a stereotype.

We're never going to get rid of minstrelsy in all its bizarre forms -- it's part of America's cultural DNA, and we'd lose a shocking and vital performance style by attempting to wipe it out simply because it makes us uncomfortable or angry. But as Perry and Madea have proven, we can certainly reinvent it and perhaps give ourselves a makeover in the process.

Related video: The success of the Tyler Perry brand

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