Vargas'
gender performativity did not reflect the Western
binary of gender because she wore more
masculine clothing, which in the 1940s, included pants,
charro suits, sombreros,
guayaberas, and ponchos. In
Chavela, Vargas remembers people telling her, "she doesn't dress like a woman, style her hair or wear her makeup like a woman." Mid-20th century Mexico was not as accepting of Vargas and her music because her gender expression and sexual orientation were constantly questioned throughout her career. Anthropologists including
Roger Lancaster, Joseph Carrier, and Stephen O. Murray studied the intersections of gender and sexuality in Latin America, and they claim "that patterns of sexuality can be as easily affected by political, social, and economic currents as gender relations." Vargas' ability to engage with her sexuality through her music amidst finding success in a traditional country, where there was deep-rooted homophobia and
religious fundamentalism, paved the way for LGBTQ artists like
Concha Buika and other Latin women artists such as
Lila Downs,
Eugenia León,
La Santa Cecilia,
Julieta Venegas, and more. Vargas' live performances and her music were passionate yet subtle references to her personal life. She naturally challenged structural notions of masculinity through her music and performance, since "she often declined to change the pronouns in love songs written by men from 'she' to 'he.' But she also tended to shun modern gender pigeonholes, noting that many described her as 'una rareza' -- a rarity." Vargas' artistry was determined by her queer experiences and performance, which was an image she held long before it was widely celebrated and accepted. Vargas' songwriting resonated heavily with queer audiences. Marvette Perez, curator of Latin-American Culture and Music for the Smithsonian Museum of American History, described her sentiments on Vargas' song "Macorina" in an interview with
NPR: "I don’t think there could be a more queer song for a woman to sing. The song says, ‘Ponme la mano aqui, Macorina.
’ 'Put your hand right here, Macorina.' And whenever she sang the song, she put such sexuality, desire, and kind of sensuality into it that you knew why she was singing, why she was singing and to whom she was singing it. She was singing it to a woman.” Vargas captured audiences through her performances on stage and her masculine gender performance, which would posthumously become part of her understated queer legacy. Her experience as a masculine ranchera singer in the 20th century led to marginalization and hate, which made her path as a woman in ranchera music much more difficult to garner more supporters. On the other hand, her fans recognize her "unsettling, coded, but undeniable connection between her interpretations and her physicality (the unique vocal technique to infuse emotions into the songs, her body in performance) must be turned comfortingly back to the realm of musicianship." Those who loved Vargas saw the brilliance in her
gender-bending style and music, so she was able to thrive and find success even though her appearance was generally not accepted. ==Appearances in film==