Recently a good friend and I watched an English movie. The main character is a drag queen owner of a London nightclub. The one thing that struck me was during the stage performances she was “small.” She wasn’t small in the physical sense. After all she was six feet tall without heels and probably weighed 200 pounds.

I was a friend of one of most outrages club kids on the East Coast when I was just a kitten. During the week he was conservative and unassuming. Other than the occasional unguarded gesturing, no one knew of his other self. I love him like a brother, and a sister. So suffice it to say, I’ve been to more than a few fabulously American drag shows. The girls were always bigger than life. Each show was a spectacle from beginning to end – the staging, the costumes, and the gestures. That’s why I love the show. They are so over the top.

It’s my belief that American women love their American drag queens. The reason is drag queens provide us with an exaggerated view of ourselves. Drag queens do what we what we wish we could do. Drag queens dare to be seen, to be heard, and don’t give a damned what suburbia thinks. Women can only imagine walking into a supermarket, approaching a total stranger, and saying, “Girl! What up with this? White shoes, white shoes, bullet-proof, polyester everywhere? Oh, Gawd! Looks like a yard sale threw up all over you. Come on, Honey. We have to fix this! This is not working, Baby!” And in the spirit of sisterhood, all of the queens work feverishly to bring out her inner queen. It’s the fairy-godmother thing, a la “Too Wang Foo...”

So hears to you, American Drag Queen, for having the courage to live out loud!

Keep your heads up, Chickens!

Love,
Auntie Lindy