Goodbye, Leslie Jordan–A Short King Like No Other

“Well, well, well…”

Like most gay men my age, I met Leslie Jordan when he sauntered on screen as Beverly Leslie, the not-so-closeted, Southern adversary of Megan Mullally’s Karen Walker on NBC’s Will & Grace. He usually had a whiskey in one hand and Beverly Leslie endured a lot of insults from Karen across the eight original and three additional seasons of the beloved comedy, but he was a liquored-up villain that you loved. With every project that Jordan was apart of, you could see how he put himself into the role. It didn’t matter if he was being teased for his height or thirsting over men on Instagram Live during the pandemic, Leslie Jordan was wholly himself at all times, and his jolly, unapologetically fey and fancy free demeanor is why we loved him. Jordan died today at the age of 67.

Jordan was more than Beverly Leslie, but I will not list his credits since the names of films and television shows do not relay the amount of joy he radiated. If you are seeking more of his performances, though, I suggest Sordid Lives for essential, camp viewing. He’s popped up on everything from Reba to Pee-Wee’s Playhouse to Coach to Caroline in the City to Ugly Betty to Desperate Housewives. His appearances in The Help and The United States vs. Billie Holiday (that wig!!!) are prime examples of camp. The Cool Kids was a sitcom that deserved better, and even his appearances on RuPaul’s Drag Race (“I think she is BEAU-tiful!” and Trixie Motel are a delight. Even him announcing Oscar nominations with Tracee Ellis Ross this last year made the morning better.

Jordan never hid who he was. You could get drunk in his drawl. There has been a meme going around for the last few years on social media about how masculine athletes or figures need to thank the sissies and the dandies and the fey ones whose wrists are always limp. They could never hide who they were, and they, consciously or unconsciously, made the world a more fabulous and tolerant place. That’s what Leslie Jordan did whether that was something he was conscious of or not. Phil, his character on CBS’ Call Me Kat, is a product of his own queer, outward existence. Jordan can be a flirty, thirsty co-star to Cheyenne Jackson’s Max because he has been nothing but his authentic self for decades.

I don’t think anyone can truly articulate the joy that Jordan brought to so many people. It’s not just gay men who loved this pint-sized queen (even though they will be the first to tell you that he was a fox in his younger days), but Jordan existed outside the lines. There is a line from Will & Grace that Alec Baldwin’s character says to Karen in season eight, “You are eight feet of pain in the ass stuffed into a four foot sack!” Literally the opposite can be said about Leslie Jordan. Everyone loved him, and he brought so much happiness just by living. He would want you to have that cocktail that you shouldn’t, and he would be jealous that he wasn’t tall enough to fit into those pink, leather pants that you found at Goodwill.

Be the life of the party, because Leslie Jordan can’t be there. I love you, Leslie. You made the world better for us pansy shorties.