Topic: A Show.

Topic: A Show

“We’re all born naked, and the rest is drag.”-RuPaul Charles

I attended my first drag show in the spring of 1986.  I was 21 years old and finishing up my junior year at Miami University.  My most serious boyfriend to date and I had broken up a couple months before and I was still struggling with the fallout and sense of failure from the breakup.  Ray, a guy I dated in high school, was living in Tampa, Florida with his boyfriend, Phillip.  We had stayed friends though the years, and he offered to let me stay at his place if we could make the 20+ hour drive to Florida.  Ray had come out to me tearfully on the phone a couple years prior.  He had composed a letter about his sexuality and I remember there was some phrasing in it indicating that he understood if I didn’t want to be his friend anymore now that his secret was out.  It made me sad that this was a very real fear for him, that he might be rejected simply for being himself.   And it still makes me sad that anyone has to face judgment, ridicule, and even discrimination today for the same reason.  

My friend Daryn agreed to ride down with me.  It was a sweet deal for him.  He got a spring break trip for free and I had someone fun to share the drive with.  Okay, and I had a crush on him too, but he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship.  And that was okay.  Fresh from a bad breakup I thought what I needed most was a change in scenery.  

The second night at Ray and Phillip’s place they informed us we would be going to a club, a gay club.  I was entranced with the idea and felt pretty hip.  I had no idea what to wear and I can’t remember what I did end up wearing.  What I do remember was that there were very few women there, and the bartender said, “Sweetheart, are you lost?”  I told him I was there with my friends and motioned to the guys.  He nodded approvingly, as if in that case it was okay to be there.  It kind of reminded me of the way I felt many years later when I met my friend at a bar in which I was the only white person in the room.  I got a few stares that seemed to say, “What are you doing in here?” But once my friend came in and hugged me and made a joke about me being late, it seemed I was in and it was all good.   The bartender carded me before serving me a bottled wine cooler.  Yes, I’m embarrassed to say that was my drink of choice back then.  I also remember hundreds of men dancing. Together.  Men holding hands.  Men kissing.  I remember Whitney Houston’s “How Will I Know” the dance mix version blaring.  And I remember dancing till the sweat was rolling down my face.  Ray told me I should save some energy for the show.  The show?  What show?  “You’ll see,” he said.   

I don’t remember the drag queen’s name and I didn’t understand until halfway through the song that the performer was a man.  I just thought it was a beautiful woman in a glamorous gown lip syncing to a Tina Turner song.  I was so naive and midwestern they had to explain to me that this was a drag show and then they had to explain to me what it was.  There were about five performers total and each one did a couple numbers.  People went up and gave them tips.  I was too shy at the time to tip, but that was back then.  

And now I’m a 53 year old married lady with grown children, and I’ve been to dozens of drag shows.  Some are for charity-like The Rubi Girls-a troupe of amateur drag queens from Dayton, Ohio who have raised tens of thousands of dollars for AIDS research.  Some drag shows are just for fun at various clubs around where I live.  When I’m on vacation depending on the locale I look for a drag show.  I recently drove two hours to Columbus because my friend was having a Tupperware party hosted by a drag queen.  This week my husband and I went to Las Vegas for a medical conference for his work.  True to form I found a drag show, not just any drag show, but a review put on by stars from RuPaul’s Drag Race.  This was drag royalty, and we had purchased the VIP package which meant a photo-op with the cast after the show.  I was as excited as  I imagine as my sports-loving family and friends are when they get to meet their favorite player.  

Why do I love drag so much?  And I realize I don’t need to justify WHY.  No one says to my sister who’s a Reds fanatic, “Why do you love baseball so much?”  She just loves it cause she loves it.  But I was thinking about it last night after meeting the stars of RuPaul’s Drag Race.  I was so star struck and excited. Why do I love it? I think it’s an art form, an illusion.  And it’s fun.  The humor, the bawdiness, the banter between the emcee and the audience are all part of the draw.  And I always tip these days.  A drag queen will gladly take your money.  It doesn’t matter if you’re an old straight lady.  The tip is an endorsement, a way to show your appreciation for all the hard work it takes to complete the transformation.  It takes a lot of time and planning to dress up like a woman even when you were born a woman.  I appreciate drag even more in my older years because I have alopecia, medical hair loss, that has progressed over the years to the degree that I am totally bald on the top of my head.   If I go out in public without a wig I am sometimes referred to as “sir” even though I’m shorter than most men I know and my body type is decided round and female.  So I put my wigs and my makeup on every day because I want to look “like a girl”.  It makes me feel pretty.  When a drag queen loses her wig during a performance which sometimes happens accidentally but more often than not happens intentionally, I feel such a sense of solidarity with the performer.  I want to say, “Girl, I know.  I’m wearing my wig too and nobody knows.” I do a transformation every day of my life.  I’m getting ready for my own personal drag show when I leave my house.  And I guess we all do that to some extent.  Some transformations just take a little more effort.