Anita Rao
I have a spidey sense for when performers are going to ask for audience participation, and I make sure to be nowhere within eyesight when they do. But this strategy failed me miserably on my 30th birthday. I was at my first-ever drag show in New Orleans, and the performer requested that anyone whose birthday was that day come up on stage. If I were in any other city, I would have comfortably stayed put in the back of the room. But in New Orleans, there's a birthday tradition that people give you dollar bills throughout the day, and you wear them pinned to the front of your shirt. There was no chance of hiding. And before I could come up with an exit strategy, I was being pushed to the front of the room. My memory of what happened next is a little hazy — not because of tequila, but because of the sensory overload. In the moments that followed, I got a glimpse at the expansive artistry of drag. Up close, I saw the fine details of her makeup, the careful styling of her hair and the way her performance of a song that vaguely resembled "Happy Birthday" was an amalgamation of dance, theater and gender-bending art like I'd never seen before.
This is Embodied, I'm Anita Rao.
Drag as an art form dates back centuries. While terms like Queen and King might be the ones we hear most often to describe these performers, drag isn't just about embodying a binary idea of femininity or masculinity.
Star Sirius
The past two years, I have grown a lot more confident in my nonbinary identity because of drag. And not only have I found acceptance, liquidity, room for creativity — I have found a lot of confidence in myself in being able to let parts of me be seen that people would not see outside of the stage. I used to bind and tape a lot to try and do more of, I suppose, male impersonation when it comes to drag. But I don't really focus so much — much like in my real life now — I don't focus so much on the "passing as male." I don't wear silicone chests or anything like that. I have absolutely stopped caring about how anyone perceives me, especially outside of my performances.
Anita Rao
That's Star Sirius, a nonbinary drag prince and burlesque performer based in North Carolina. As they indicate, they see their drag as an opportunity to experiment, build confidence and overthrow the concept of gender altogether. It's an outlook shared by Vancouver drag performer Rose Butch.
Rose Butch
I just wanted to flip the whole thing on its head for me and find a way or a word to describe what I was doing, but not contain it in any kind of box. So I just started calling myself a Drag Thing. And ever since then, like, it's been beautiful, actually. So many different people, in lots of different places, have been really resonating with drag thing as an avenue for their drag, to explore their, like, nonbinary or, you know, different kinds of gender expression without necessarily putting themselves into the binary of drag queen or drag king.
Anita Rao
Drag Thing Rose Butch, is the performance persona of Rae Takei. They were first introduced to drag a few years after they'd come out as nonbinary, and when they first started performing as Rose, they identified as a nonbinary drag king.
Rose Butch
Initially, my drag expression was, like, was quite masculine, or like I would say, would fall into a more masculine category of drag king, but would still play with quite feminine elements, like, if we are going to speak in a binary. So it would be, like, this kind of, barbershop mustache with a flower crown. And then, as I got more interested in different elements of drag, like, I started blocking my brows, adding more, kind of like, the feminine drag shapes, but still keeping, like, applying chest hair and wearing, like, big boots. And now, I'm interested in this sort of androgynous, like, vintage clown aesthetic, which is sort of like 1960s-1970s mini dresses, and my makeup is very, like, clowny, like a little clown doll. And usually I'll like to wear, like, a shorter wig. So it is — I would — like some folks, I think, nowadays, like, would — if they didn't really know me, might look at me and say like, "That's like a kind of drag queen sort of, like, performer." But I don't have, like, big hair, like, I don't pad or anything like that. So it is, for me, not about, like, expressing any sort of gender, but moreso like what am I interested in doing?
Anita Rao
On top of wigs and makeup, drag artists have a number of tools they can use to manipulate their shape. Foam padding under a few pairs of tights gives the illusion of curvier hips, and tucking — with the help of tape or a gaff — can eliminate the bulge of a penis. With a silicone breast or chestplate, a drag artist can create the appearance of a bust or of muscular pecs. Two years after they started performing as Rose, Rae began a medical transition, which meant their body was also changing outside of drag. With their out-of-drag shape and sound becoming increasingly aligned with their gender, they reassessed the kinds of shapes and proportions that felt best to them as Rose.
Rose Butch
I was going out, talking on mics, talking to people, and then suddenly, like, my voice was changing, which actually made me feel a lot more comfortable talking on a mic. Like hearing my voice coming back in a way that felt like that, didn't feel really scary and like, "Who is that stranger?" Like, it made me feel more comfortable and made me more outgoing in my drag persona. And yeah, I think as I became more comfortable in my body and my, like, everyday life, I became more comfortable, like, showing more body in drag. And like, obviously, there's different things, like, I used to bind, which is, like, compressing the chest. So I would either wear a binder, or I would use tape to bind my chest. But I had surgery about five years ago, so that's not something that I do very much anymore. So it's just different, it's these different little shifts. I also used to pack before, which is the opposite of tucking. And now, I don't pack, like, I think maybe I pack in drag once a year. So yeah, it's been very interesting.
Anita Rao
So you've gone through these obviously physical changes in your body, and then performance changes and how you represent as Rose. And you consider Rose, kind of, an extension of yourself in a lot of ways. I know in your house, there's a side of the closet that is just for Rose and the very specific wardrobe that Rose has and a side that is more for Rae. I'm curious about how the two have informed one another, and how you conceptualize gender more broadly beyond the existence of a binary.
Rose Butch
The difference between Rose and Rae is that Rae likes to be very organized and Rose is not organized at all. Like my drag closet right now, I'm afraid of it. I open it and, like, things are just, like, falling out. And it's all these, like, gorgeous patterns, and colors, and prints and, like, materials that Rae would never wear. But like, Rose is — yeah, just, like, very loud and bold. And then Rae's closet is, like, piles and piles of white T-shirts and, like, black pants. And actually, in the last couple of years, like, during this last little time I've, like, tried to get a little more creative with my, like, everyday clothes. I'm like, "Oh, what if I wear this pattern or this color? Like how does that make me feel?" And I think, like, being able to go all the way with my drag persona gives me a little bit more courage to do just a little bit and then a little bit more with my everyday. And it's still, like, a balance. Like I don't necessarily think I would be, like, so bold as to go out wearing, like, half my drag closet in, like, every day, but yeah, it does inform it.
Anita Rao
Yeah, well I mean, I guess I'll pivot a little bit and build off of that, because I know you grew up in an environment where you were an aspiring actor, and you did a lot of theater, and you were exposed to these roles and environments where you've had to be performing one or the other — or I guess you were only given a few options about the kind of roles that you could take. So I'm wondering what the space is that is open for you now that wasn't when you were a kid, in terms of performing gender on stage.
Rose Butch
Oh my gosh yeah, there's so much. Like, drag is just this, like, perfect container where you can play with makeup and clothes, and, like, how you move your body, and, like, the kind of voices that you want to lip sync to, or the kind of voice that you want to, like, put on or let, like, you know, take over you. And like, to be able to do that in this, you know, safe container where there's no judgment or, like, very few expectations, it's definitely a lot — way more options, way more space to play than when I was younger. And even in the last few years, like, I think the boundaries of what we know drag to be have changed a lot. And it's been amazing, and, like, for somebody that grew up with a lot of imposed expectations of femininity, to be able to play within that on my own terms has been amazing in my, like, personal growth. And, like, to be able to, like, come back to things that maybe would have been scary to me before and look at it through my own lens, a nonbinary lens, a queer lens, a trans lens has been, yeah, really rewarding, super healing, really valuable. And like, to be able to connect with other people who also have, like, similar experiences — like, community part of drag, like, that kind of community and connection is, like, one of the things that I value the most.
Anita Rao
For queer folks, bars and clubs have historically been spaces to find that community and connection Rose describes. And the presence of drag artists can be a signal to those in attendance that it's safe to show up as their authentic selves. But drag isn't limited to queer nightlife, or even to the exploration of gender. Just ask Larry La Fountain-Stokes, a professor of Spanish and Gender Studies at the University of Michigan and author of the books “Queer Ricans” and “Translocas.” As a scholar, Larry focuses on the history of Puerto Rican drag and on the artists and activists who've changed the way we think about gender
Larry La Fountain-Stokes
Drag does so many different things. The things that most people associate, in terms of going to a cabaret or watching a television program, they're also things that can happen in a museum, or on a street or elsewhere that are not just about questioning gender and sexuality. But they can also be about questioning the lines between the human and the nonhuman, between different races, between different ethnicities. So drag is much more expansive than what most people give it credit for.
Anita Rao
So you mentioned this blurring of all kinds of lines, and you in particular are looking at drag in the context of Puerto Rico. You grew up in Puerto Rico in the 1970s, tell me about the kind of drag you were exposed to as a younger person and how it, maybe, reflects that more expansive definition of drag.
Larry La Fountain-Stokes
When I was growing up as a young child in Puerto Rico, basically, I thought that drag and homosexuality were the same thing. And I thought that effeminateness, and transness, and the drag that was visible on television were all part of a continuum. San Juan is a large city where there were always visible transgender sex workers that you would see as you move through space. In Puerto Rico in the 1970s, there were drag shows on television, and really extraordinary drag performers like Antonio Pantojas, who had very sharp wit, and were saying very insightful things at the same time that people were making fun of them, dismissing them and clearly threatening them at the time that transgender people were experiencing violence. So as a child, it's confusing and empowering. When you see something that is ever-present — literally, it's everywhere — but the messages that you get are mixed. On the one hand, there is recognition that is clearly part of real life. On the other hand, there is stigma attached to it, and you understand that there's something that people shun about it.
Anita Rao
Larry's work as a scholar is to trace the legacies of gender nonconforming activists, as well as drag performers like Nina Flowers, who competed in the first season of "RuPaul's Drag Race." But despite being a scholar of drag, there's a lot that Larry didn't learn about the art form until trying his hand at it himself. Back in the early 2010s, Larry was invited by a colleague to participate in a video called "Cooking With Drag Queens." The result: a hilarious and instructive video about making tostones and the debut of one Lola von Miramar.
Clip from "Cooking With Drag Queens"
Tostones comes from the Spanish word, tostar, which means to toast. Tostones are a delicious side dish made from twice-fried green plantains served in many Latin American countries, especially Puerto Rico.
Larry La Fountain-Stokes
Lola is very fabulous. Lola is probably much more fabulous than Larry. So I love to perform as Lola von Miramar, although it's a lot of work, it takes me at least three hours. It was truly a transformative experience. I learned the complexities of makeup, I learned the joy of performance, but I also learned the danger and the vulnerability of stepping outside of your home and having to get somewhere and exposing yourself, not only physically or geographically, but also socially. Because clearly the reception from my colleagues and my friends was mixed. Most people thought it was hilarious, amazing and wonderful. But some people really felt it compromised my integrity as a scholar, or they thought that I was transgender. So methodologically, as a researcher, as a person, as a human, as an artist, I think it's been really transformational. It's very liberating, there's lots of fun, there's lots of joy to be had. But it's also important to acknowledge the vulnerability — how to do it in a safe way, because you don't want to become a victim of violence by exploring drag. I feel like I am two people. I am Larry and I am Lola. Clearly we are both the same, but we are very, very different. And so, for example, when people start expressing more enthusiasm for Lola, as Larry, I do get jealous sometimes. And, you know, those are complex emotions. And how to move back and forth between masculinity and femininity, and different degrees of masculinity and femininity that all of us have, and how to be comfortable with that, in a society that really stigmatizes gender transgression.
Anita Rao
Transgressing gender and other boundaries is in part what makes drag political. It's part of the performance philosophy of Tito Bone, a U.K.-based, blind, nonbinary drag king.
Tito Bone
Even though it's goofy, and funny, and surreal, and I curate it to be that way, what I'm doing is a political act. And it is very much a "joy as an act of resistance" type thing. For a queer, disabled person, sometimes just being able to take up space at all feels like an act of resistance. So, you know, for my specific drag, drag and social justice are absolutely connected.
Anita Rao
That's Tito Bone, a blind nonbinary drag performer based in the U.K. So Rose, we've been talking about this politicization of drag and the way that drag has come under attack in the United States. I'm curious for both of you who are out in the world, existing in your bodies, moving between spaces that feel safe and spaces that, maybe, feel less safe, how you hold space for both the joy in your drag persona, as well as navigating the risk. Rose, I'd love to start with you.
Rose Butch
I was thinking about this recently. I had a show just this weekend and was out after the show with a different performer — we were going out together. And it made me realize, like, how much — when I'm outside the club, when I'm, you know, leaving my apartment, returning to my apartment, out on the street, whatever — how much people, I'm not sure if I want to say harassment, but people do feel the need to comment on what I look like, or ask me where I'm going. And sometimes it's like, "Wow, you look awesome. Like, where are you going tonight?" And sometimes it's a little more menacing than that. And I'm a very small person, I'm five-foot-three, and I do feel like sometimes I will use my size to, just, try to blend in as much as possible, or fade into the background — as much as I can when I'm, like, have a full face of makeup on. But yeah, it is a real thing. Like, I do feel like there is, like, a stark difference between, you know, walking to the car at the end of the night versus, like, being on stage and feeling like I can be loud and expressive and, like, in my element, and not concerned about my safety at all in that kind of space. And then, you know, doing something as simple as, like, trying to get home, like, it's basically like trying to get to and from work. Like, that's where I feel very vulnerable.
Larry La Fountain-Stokes
I'm always thinking about, you know, what does it mean to travel as Lola? Well, she has a 50 pound suitcase, so it's hard. So, and then, there's always the question, where do you get dressed? Do you get dressed at home? Or do you get dressed at the venue? Do you get dressed at the hotel? Or do you tell people at the theater or the college I need to get there several hours early? And then when you're done the question is, do I take all of this drag immediately off? Do I get undressed at the venue, at the college, so that I don't have to think about this as I travel back to my home? Or do I feel comfortable walking through the world in this performative persona, as somebody who I am and am not, as Lola von Miramar? This is so existential, and we're just trying to live our lives. We just want to be people. We're artists. We perform. So sometimes, this is so much, it's hard. And I don't think about all of these things all the time because it would be too much.
Anita Rao
Drag is art and activism. It can also be a way to educate. One notable example: Drag Story Hour, an initiative that brings drag artists to libraries and bookstores to read to kids. It started in San Francisco in 2015.
Virgie Tovar
I remember the first two were pretty well attended, and then, the third one was with Honey Mahogany, who was on "RuPaul's Drag Race." The press picked up on that Honey was doing this, and then Drag Queen Story Hour completely exploded. We got asked to do Drag Queen Story Hour for an elementary school in Berkeley, California, and the kids were allowed to ask any question they wanted. I think Honey was at that reading, and somebody asked, you know, "Are you a boy or a girl?" And she was like, well, she, kind of, basically, broke down gender for, like, you know, a third grader. And it was — it was really, kind of, extraordinary. Like, yeah, actually, third graders are capable of understanding somewhat complex concepts. What I think the connection, for me, that I see between Drag Queen Story Hour and drag in general, and the work that I do around fat activism and body positivity, it sort of showed me that we as a culture have this idea that we need to protect children, in particular, from these things the culture has randomly deemed as negative. Whether it's being fat, or it's doing drag, you know, or like blurring the gender line or whatever — that the culture has this idea that this is helping kids and, quote unquote, "protecting" kids, but in fact what kids need is love, a diversity of experience, a celebration of who you are exactly as you are.
Anita Rao
That's fat activist and former Embodied guest Virgie Tovar, who is the managing director of the original Drag Story Hour in San Francisco. Drag Story Hours now take place regularly around the country and the world, but in the past year in particular, have become the subject of repeated protests and threats. According to a report from GLAAD, there were more than 140 anti-drag incidents in 2022 — many of them aimed at family- and kid-focused events. For North Carolina drag artist Naomi Dix, speaking out against this anti-drag violence is an opportunity to set the record straight about what drag is and isn't, while honoring the legacies of queer activists who came before her.
Naomi Dix
Without the trans community, the queer community would not exist as it does now. We owe a lot to the fight for our community, to, you know, trans activists and trans Black, brown and Indigenous activists.
Anita Rao
Naomi Dix describes herself as the Afro-Latinx Barbie of the South and is part of a Durham-based drag family called the House of Coxx. I've seen Naomi perform numerous times, and it is always a true delight. She can pull off lip syncing everything from an impassioned Carrie Underwood country ballad to Fergalicious. And she also always finds opportunities to educate at some point in her performance. Back in December 2022, Naomi was hosting an all ages show in Southern Pines, North Carolina, when the power went out — the result of a shooting attack on two power substations. The incident left 45,000 people without power for days, and while the motivation behind the attack is still under investigation, a series of discussions on social media raised questions about a potential link to Naomi's show.
Naomi Dix
Someone reached out to me back in 2021, to start doing shows in Southern Pines because there was virtually no sort of queer community or queer events in that area. And they saw a need for those queer events specifically because there's such a large trans youth community in Southern Pines, which I was unaware of. And they were just looking to have some sort of representation and looking to offer and facilitate a safe space for these young people, who were looking to have that representation in order to explore their own journeys of being queer and being trans. So we decided to have that at Sunrise Theater. Promotion for this drag show started about three weeks prior to the actual event itself. The threats, you know, were pretty regular, but it wasn't necessarily anything that we were concerned with at the time. I knew from my end of it that I was not going to cancel that event, and I didn't care what sort of threats I was receiving, it was not going to happen because at the end of the day, this was not about me. This was about the youth, this was about the community as a whole and offering them a space that they had been a part of, and that I, essentially, brought to them back in 2021.
Anita Rao
And so you did host the event that evening, the power went out, and you ended up having to end the show early because the power went out. And this incident and this evening comes in a context and a history of this particular year being one in which there have been many attempts to restrict or censor drag shows, even in state legislatures around the country. Earlier this year, more than a dozen bills have been introduced aiming to restrict or censor drag shows. So I want to get a little bit into the anti-drag sentiment that we're seeing today. But in particular, how you, growing up, you've shared that you had a lot of the same fears about drag that are behind the anti-drag sentiment that we're seeing today. And I'm curious if you could, kind of, walk us through what those fears were for you and how you navigated them — give us a sense of what evolved for you.
Naomi Dix
Yeah, most definitely. So I mean, it just purely came from not being educated. I think that's a lot of where people's misguidance comes from, is just not being educated and not willing to educate themselves when it comes to a specific community, or group or people. I grew up very Christian in the South. I was born and raised in Durham. And a lot of those fears were coming out of, just, me not being willing at the time to see the perspective of anyone else who was different than me. My introduction to drag were queer clubs and queer bars, and, specifically, that was not really something that I was interested in being involved in. Not because there's anything wrong with it, it just was not my scene. When it came to drag, I wanted to see something that was more about the connection to drag and its community. And so I was introduced to that when I started drag back in 2014 in Durham with the House of Coxx. My first show, Vivica C. Coxx opened up the show by saying I am a Black, queer, educated person, and if you don't understand what enthusiastic consent means then you can get out of my club. And so that was the introduction to me that drag was something more than just makeup and outlandish eyelashes and wigs and, you know, music and lip synching, that this was an actual foundation to the queer community, and a foundation and a chance to actually use your platform to do something more than just performing for others.
Anita Rao
As a member of the House of Coxx, Naomi has committed to using her drag as a platform to educate audiences about inclusion and consent — and break down some of the common misconceptions about drag and drag artists.
Naomi Dix
You know, a lot of people don't understand the difference between being trans and being a drag artist. Society has an issue when it comes to just trans people in general, specifically trans people of color. And when they see someone that is, as they would say, "dressing up in female clothing," that to them reads as transness. When in fact, that is quite disrespectful to the trans community because it essentially says that transness is something that is for show, something that is theatrical. And so I think that people need to understand the same way that a, you know, woman or someone who identifies as female, who also identifies as an actor or an actress, may play a male in a movie or may play an animal in a movie is the same way that we, as drag artists, perform. That is all that is, is that we are playing a role in that moment. But being trans is not playing a role, it is who you are as a person.
Anita Rao
Like for Rose and Larry, drag personas often emerge as a bolder version of the performer in their daily life. Naomi grew up in a conservative family of Jehovah's Witnesses, and her drag persona has been a means to explore elements of her personhood that she didn't always feel safe to embody.
Naomi Dix
One of the things that I love about drag art is that it is an expression of yourself. It just allows a sort of freedom that I know that growing up I was not allowed to express. If I wanted to express the more feminine side of me, that was looked at as being, you know, wrong. I am to act as a masculine Latino man in, you know, America. That is what I am supposed to do. You know, if I was angry, I was only supposed to be angry at something very specific. I couldn't show any sort of emotion. I wasn't able to show that as a masculine man, specifically, a man of color. So it's a beautiful thing to be able to be an artist, and I think that an actor, or a singer who is on stage would say the same thing, is that they become something different when they are performing. They are still themselves, but they become an extension of themselves, and they're able to express whatever emotions that they are not able to express in their everyday life.
Anita Rao
That's really beautiful. And I would love to end on, you know, as you're looking forward into this year, kind of, balancing what happened in Moore County, the situation, the political situation that we're in, and these anti-drag sentiments of the year, but also your mission to educate and bring joy and artistry to the community. How are you holding all of those things together? And while also, kind of, feeling safe and taking care of yourself in your own body? I know that's a big question, but anything that's top of mind for you?
Naomi Dix
It's a very big question. I don't have time to allow myself to be scared. I don't have that time. Right now, the time that I do have is trying to secure my own community. At the end of the day, whether it's about me or not, it is about the future of my community and its safety. And the fight is not over, the fight will only get stronger. And it will only get stronger as long as people like myself and other artists and other allies are making sure that we don't allow this to take over our community, and that we are not suppressed or oppressed when it comes to what society tells us that we should and should not do.
Anita Rao
Embodied is production of North Carolina Public Radio-WUNC, a listener-supported station. If you want to lend your support to this podcast and WUNC's other shows on demand, consider contribution at wunc.org now. Incredible storytelling like you hear on Embodied is only possible because of listeners like you.
This episode was produced by Audrey Smith and edited by Amanda Magnus. Kaia Findlay also produces for our show, Madison Speyer is our intern and Jenni Lawson is our sound engineer. Quilla wrote our theme music.
And a quick note before we go, today's episode is the last one produced by the incredible Audrey Smith. Audrey is a RuPaul fan and the heart behind this episode. Audrey has been such an integral part of our show for more than a year now, and we are devastated to see her go. Audrey is the force behind so many standout episodes of the show and has been a gift to our team in so many ways. They've transformed the way we think about accessibility and added so much humor and joy to our lives. Through their pure wit and impeccable timing, Audrey is a true champion of everything Embodied is about, and we're going to do our best to channel their incredible energy moving forward.
Until next time, I'm Anita Rao, taking on the taboo with you.