Usually, I don’t do this so back-to-back, but drag queens don’t give a damn. The latest uncomfortable experience: performing with professional drag queens.
First thing to note: You do not have to be a male to be a drag queen. As my “drag mom” (that’s your mother figure mentor) explained, doing drag is about expressing exaggerated femininity, no matter what your “original” parts or orientation is. However, a woman playing a woman is often referred to as a faux queen. San Francisco has a long history of drag queens, but drag queens were actually spotted in society and media as early as 1937 in the film, “Upstairs,” regarded as the first film that depicted drag queen style.
Similar to the poetry with IN-Q, the strippers’ amateur night, the survival school and a number of other experiences I’ve done, I had to do some digging and outreach for help. After several email inquiries, I got connected to “Sue Casa,” who is known in the community to mentor aspiring queens. My request was an unusual one, she said, but she agreed to let me perform in one of her hosted nights called Bootie at a night club in San Francisco that has a monthly 30 minute set with about 24 drag queens. I was assigned Brittany Spears in “Gimme More” which was mashed up with Queen Marmalade. (The 7 sets or so were all mashups, all great, to tell you the truth.) Given the boudoir aspect of the Lady Marmalade song in the music video, I wanted to match the group and hence did a Spears impersonation circa the early 2000s MTV music awards when she kissed Madonna. (You know the reference.)
My fellow performers alongside Sue Casa were Taco Amore, Carne Asana, and Kai Kai (that’s a term referring to queen on queen sex.) Given the Mexican heritage of the drag names, I said I need to be called some white, as I’m totally white, dressing in white, and playing a white woman. So we went with “Kay Blanca,” a play on “que blanca!” or “how white!” in Spanish. Pretty damn accurate.
We had a few rehearsals to get our moves down, and everyone had to practice their lip-sync lyrics for a few weeks. This wasn’t a “show up and be a drag” thing. This monthly show is a full-blown performance, with backup dancers, a DJ, and custom lighting for a crowd of 100s. The crowd, once mostly trans and gay, has evolved to be easily entertained straight millennials out for their weekend thrills. Other clubs, Sue Casa said, are rather scrutinizing and have quite a high bar for outstanding performances. “Don’t worry, honey,” Sue Casa said. “Those little bitches will scream for anything.”
People do drag for all sorts of reasons. My drag mom’s day job is family therapy. Being in drag, “Let’s me NOT be impartial, objective, and fair for a bit.” Taco Amore works in a restaurant full time and loves drag because, “Frankly, I get to be a cunt. And free.” Others just love the attention, the dress up, the community, and so forth. Although the queens bitch at each other in fun jest and even poke at the faux queens (though I was asked, “oh no, you MUST be . . . real,”) it’s a mostly collective spirit amongst all. This is similar to the strippers, I thought. Queens will also refer to themselves in jest. “Oh, I can dance. . .but Sue, she’s just tragic.” This is oddly entertaining, like a meta Mean Girls enactment with just yourself dissing your other-self. Many queens have accents and whole personas that, truth be told, DO make you feel bitcher. If you ever want to feel the embodiment of not giving a shit, drag queen-ing may be ideal for you, and I ALREADY consider myself one who deeply does not bother with approval or appeal.
Before the show, the queens pack in the backstage area, which is more or less a few tiny crawl spaces and closets. Imagine a men’s locker room with a ridiculous amount of hair spray and booze bombed with glitter. We chatted and preened despite this nauseating stench. I already had my makeup done by a drag queen make-up pro (there are actual courses taught at MAC just for drag makeup), but many queens learn from each other and YouTube. As you can see, blending is a no-no and double stacked lashes are a must. My makeup was not at all the most dramatic. Many queens wear wigs attached with duck tape, but I just used my hair with massive teasing for a trashed Spears look. There are several genres of looks, I learned. There’s straight-up trashy, skag/Bear (when a male drag queen does not attempt to hide his male features), Pageant (a prettier look for competitions), Campy (for the comedy), or impersonation (being a Whitney Houston, for an instant).
We had Whitney Houston, a Kill Bill number, Beyonce, Uptown Funk, and several others ready to roll. Sharply at 11 pm, the first act was up, which was ours. The crowd was ridiculously enthusiastic, and it was quickly over. Lip syncing is pretty easy, and fortunately, I am quite familiar with Spears’ lyrics so I bet she would have approved.
Overall, this was a wildly wonderful and weird experience. Yet again, you never know who’s someone completely else.