what a drag

A long, long time ago, when I was still mostly ignorant, I made a promise to myself that I would never do drag.  Actually, I said that the only time I would do drag would be to honor the beautiful Gwen Stefani.  Otherwise, I have no place and no reason to do drag.  I don't feel comfortable in women's clothing, I'm not a drag queen, and I don't want to be hate crimed.  At least not any more than I do for "choosing" to be gay.  That's not to say I don't think it's totally okay and acceptable to do drag, to crossdress, or to break free of gender roles - in fact, I think that's badass and clearly a courage I do not yet possess.  Still, I always said Gwen was the only one worthy of me doing drag for.

And then, something changed.  I fell in love with other fabulous lady performers.  I considered Madonna, and then instantly knew better than to try to outdo the Madonna Queens who have been working since the 80's.  And then Lady Gaga came into the picture, and I started thinking, 'shit, I could do drag as her; she does drag as herself almost every single day.'

To be honest, I've never thoroughly enjoyed watching drag performers.  Generally speaking, they are the bottom of the totem pole when it comes to performing.  Perhaps that's because of heterosexism and transphobia, but perhaps it because there's nothing really all that impressive about a man dressing in really cheap hand-me down Bob Mackie ripoffs, lip-synching horribly, and creating a caricature of what it means to be a woman.  Perhaps it's because they think that dressing up like a woman is entertainment enough.

Sorry, but not for this critical motherfucker.  You've got to work.  Which is why nine times out of ten, I am left unimpressed by most drag performers I see.  So, you can do a split.  A split does not a performance make, people.  I think a lot of times, the reason why drag performances are so well received are because of the fruit flies supporting their fruit at the gay bar, who are like 'ohmahgawd, he's totes fabz!'  and not because there's really any performance value involved other than a good song with a hard beat and a costume.

I kind of have this thing that is super annoying and flares up every now and again and it's not herpes.  Whenever I tend to see a performance of any kind, I cannot control myself throughout the performance to either: a) feel like I could be doing a better job; b) get jealous of someone doing a better job than me; c) get bitter because that could be me if I wouldn't have sold out my creativity to get a 'real' job, but that's another blog for another time.

So, for Halloween this year, I have had a hard time being creative with costume ideas.  Afterall, what can top my Lil Wayne costume from last year?  Or the Gwen Stefani costume from the year before?  (More on that later.)  The only thing I can really think of and get excited about is being Lady Gaga from her VMA performance.  Seriously - I go all out on my costumes, and I'm confident I could kill (pun!) with that costume.  But then again, this is my first New York City Halloween, and while it's totally appropriate, I am still single and dressing like someone that resembles a bloody tampon will probably not help out in getting a date.  Then again, it is Halloween, so why do I want to find a date?  When did Halloween become a time to stop being scary and start trying to be cute/sexy in your costumes?  Or has it always been that way?  Do I ask too many questions?

The other night, while at my friendly neighborhood leather bar which is not actually a leather bar, I met some guys who played Goldfrapp, Lykke Li, and other awesome music on the normally Gaga-infested jukebox.  They told me they do drag performances at this new club. I told them about how awesome of an idea my Lady Gaga costume, and how I should just perform that at the club, fake blood packet stuffed in my right breast and all.  I got really excited, if only I could reconcile my silly fears.

I guess now's a good time to talk about why I'm a bit scared of doing drag again.

Last time, when I was Gwen, I had a killer, super Gwen costume.  I even had 6-inch platform stripper shoes that she had been wearing since "What You Waiting For" in leopard-print, one of her favorite patterns.  (Pause to acknowledge how pathetic I am for knowing these things. And resume.)  My friend Hillary did my make up, and it soon became clear that I do not have a womanly face.  Nonetheless, it was still fun and funny, and I was going for it.  And I was just drunk enough to have a really good time with it, and I think for the most part, I really pulled it off.

Once I arrived at the party, I got lots of compliments and got really drunk.  It was college, after all.  I remember waiting for my boyfriend at the time, the one who was no good, who was also doing drag as a weird crazy flight attendant lady.  In the meantime, I hung out with my friends and tried very hard to avoid pictures.  Some of them eventually surfaced on Facebook, were quickly de-tagged, and now, I cannot find them for the life of me.  So, I guess that was a success.

I was basically just walking around and randomly yelling "WIND IT UP!!!"  It was making people laugh.  And on one instance, mid-"wind it up!!" one of my platform-clad feet slipped off the deck we were on and I went from standing to sitting in less than a half a second.  The next week, I went to Anguilla on vacation, and still had the bruise to show for it (pictured).

And the night just kept going downhill from there.  Once my boyfriend arrived, he was (surprise!) a total prick and was flirting with other guys.  Keep in mind, he was in drag as well.  It was kind of a ridiculous situation, in retrospect, and the fact that it even upset me is fucking crazy, but just goes to show you how awesome of a relationship that was.  At some point, I fought with him about how cool it was for him to be ignoring me all night, and that I know I'm not too sexy right now in my Gwen outfit, but I'm fun, and I fell off a deck, and why don't you love me enough to love me in drag?  And, perhaps it was him, or the alcohol, or everything, but I ended up crying on an air conditioner with my wig off.

There is nothing more pitiful than a crying drag queen without a wig.  I know this because I was one.  I remember my sweet, incredible friends coming up and holding back their laughter to comfort me and make me feel better.  Eventually, they realized this situation was not getting any better and that it would probably be best to just take my drunk, depressed, mascara-running ass home.  So, they did.

And as soon as I walked in the door, still crying, my roommate looked at me and burst into laughter.  Believe it or not, this didn't make me feel worse.  It blew the lid off the whole ridiculous situation and I was able to realize just how fucking hilarious it was.  I'll never forget that moment though - sweet Barbara, who is usually so good at being comforting, not being able to control herself at the crying drag queen.  But really - who would?

My thoughts as of right now, are to do the performance (and make a quick $50 or more), but dress up as something cute/sexy for my first big city Halloween.  Besides, I do not want to be hiking my ass up and down the City in some heels that are too small for my feet.  Even more so, I don't want to fall off a deck - or worse, end up crying on an air conditioner without my wig.  I guess there's just an appropriate time and place for me to do drag, and it's not on Halloween.  It's in a gay club, showing those lazy drag queens what a performance is really all about.  I'll let you know how it goes.

...If it goes.