An Open Letter to a Drag Queen

Dear Drag Queen,

I hope you are well, whoever you are. There's nothing more important than keeping well these days!

I should probably explain where I know you from. In short, I saw you perform at Oxford Pride 2010. Gosh, it really doesn't seem like 12 years have passed since!

When I last saw you, you were squeezed into a silver cocktail dress in a short blonde wig - strutting across a stage which you claimed as your own as soon as you appeared from behind rainbow streamers. Stomping over to the microphone in six-inch heels, made from the finest white plastic, you began to sing in a gorgeous baritone. The voice rumbled through two quite small speakers but reached across the field where I was stood amongst the stalls.

A large crowd was there that day and, as an 11-year-old Catholic, I was quite overwhelmed. I was there with two friends, but they had been raised in a far less religious way than I was. They took to the atmosphere of Pride easily, while I struggled to shake the feeling that it was somehow a sin to be there. So I did the easiest thing and picked your voice out from the crowd, focussing on it to calm myself. You truly do have a gorgeous voice. It felt like a vocal hug.

I think the highlight of your performance was your unique take on 'Dancing Queen' by ABBA. Flanked by two shirtless men covered in body glitter, you belted notes out. Notes, I will say, that were slightly out of your range! Not that anyone minded, you were having too much fun!

What made you a unique experience is that, out of everything at Pride, you seemed the most comforting, almost motherly. Drag was a completely new concept to me back then, one that made me uncomfortable as, again, it was sinning in the eyes of some of my peers. I can honestly say that your performance was the chisel that charged through the beliefs instilled in me by others, revealing my true feelings towards myself and others. A lot of key experiences happen when we are young that go on to shape our adulthood. Without seeing you, my dear drag queen, I think I could have ended up a repressed and close-minded adult, with little appreciation of authenticity. For that, I thank you deeply.

It does seem slightly strange to associate drag with authenticity as drag itself involves a lot of fake padding, make-up, and no small amount of dressing up! However, I feel there is authenticity in making your own presentation of self. This can be through choosing jeans over dresses, wearing lipstick, and/or styling your hair in the way you want, to name a few. No matter how outrageous your drag personality, it always comes from a part of the person playing it. This part usually displays femininity, a cheeky camp-ness, and a slightly naughty flirtation! All parts which, traditionally, men are told to repress. In expressing them so openly on stage, I felt the hidden parts of myself start to stir and rattle against the cage I had encased them in, wanting to come out and dance with you.

Nowadays, it has been a long time since I caged any part of myself which, again, I owe to you I believe. I express gender fluidity in the way I dress as, on some days, I wish to be more masculine than feminine. I had noticed a problem when I realised a lot of my clothes looked the same. It turned out I was buying a safe 'middle ground' of clothing which involved lots of dark colours with the occasional bright t-shirt. This was an attempt at feeling comfortable on both feminine and masculine days. Nowadays, my wardrobe is filled with colour and contains uniquely masculine and feminine pieces which I can wear depending on how I feel that day. In addition to this, I identify as a lesbian, a conclusion which could have taken me many more years to become comfortable with without your influence. Indeed, I am not only comfortable with who I am, but I celebrate it! You gave me pride.

While you only entered my life for a few hours, you represent a starting line for my journey of self-discovery. I think of you often, with emphasis on your stage presence. I try to carry as much of that confidence into my own life as possible. Naturally, you nurtured a love of ABBA music which cannot be tamed. For all of this, I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Keep Dancing,

Kate

ThatWriterWoman