Welcome to the Drag Show

By Krista Thom
Contributing Writer

You know how there are those things that you always talk about doing, but never actually do? Like setting the toilet on fire, or joining the polar bear club. For me, one of the activities that fell into that category was attending a drag show.

The difference between that and the other activities on that list was that I actually ended up going to a drag show. Two, in fact, since last weekend the I-Beam hosted both a drag king and a drag queen show.

I wish I could say that I made that decision to broaden my horizons, or learn about acceptance, or heck, even out of morbid curiosity. But the truth was, I went because the High Plains Reader asked me to go. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great idea, as are most ideas suggested by the HPR, I only wish I’d thought of it myself.

I was in for a double treat. Friday night had a drag king performance (which is exactly what you’d expect – a show of women dressed as men), while the Saturday show was for drag queens.

For the benefit of anyone who is as ignorant as I was, I should explain that drag shows are a series of lip sync performances. Most of the acts are solos, but there are occasional group numbers. Anyone who feels the urge can come up and give a tip.

Both shows were entertaining, although in my opinion they were two different animals. The drag king show was more character driven. Each king had developed his own character and specialized in certain types of music. There was Rick O’Shea, a hippy in full tie-dye; Mik, the country boy; and JJ King, the gansta who specializes in Soul and R&B.

(Random thing that’s good to know: The etiquette is to refer to drag kings and queens by the gender they’re dressed as.)

To be fair, the queens didn’t have as much of a chance to express their personalities. The theme on the night I attended was Drag Warz, which meant each queen had to spin a wheel to find out which song she was performing. So each queen played a diva whether she liked it or not.

If the kings focused on personality, the drag queen show was all about glamour and glitz. The general rule of drag queen fashion seems to be, when in doubt, add sequins.

It was totally over-the-top, which was why I loved it. Sure, the performances were great, but I kept thinking to myself, that’s a great dress; I want those shoes!; how can I do my eyes that way? One of the queens told me afterwards that her female friends often say they love the shows because they wish they could dress like that. That was certainly how I felt. I would play dress-up in these girls’ closets.

I was a bit jealous for other reasons as well. As the queens came out one by one, I couldn’t help but notice how spectacular all their legs were. And any one of them could teach a class on how to look graceful in heels.

I felt a little better when I learned that their good looks didn’t come without a price. Performing in drag involves coaxing your body into shapes it was never designed for. The queens’ perfect legs were the results of several layers of pantyhose, which often contained cushions and padding to help give the right contours. At the same time, they often wore corsets and body-shaping garments so punishing, they put Victorian women to shame. When I went to tip one queen, I was surprised to find unmistakably real cleavage. It turns out men can sometimes push the boobs they have high enough to create real cleavage, and they rely on padding underneath to give the right effect.

The makeup isn’t easy, either. To make room for the maximum amount of eye shadow, many drag queens will wax over their eyebrows and draw fake ones further up. Before they add foundation, they put on extra makeup to give their face the right contours. After the show, one of the drag queens offered to give me a mini-makeover, which I gladly accepted. The two key beauty tips I learned were, 1) use hairspray to set heavy makeup, and, 2) cover any mistakes with glitter.

The kings had it slightly easier, although they still had to squash and stretch their boobs from their belly buttons to their armpits. A couple of tube socks tied with a rubber band created the right bulge in the pants. A few sported fake beards, which were made from clippings left over from recent haircuts. One king was so convincing that when he came over to our table to chat, I thought he was actually a man until Raquel Smith, the photographer and my unofficial guide that night, leaned over and told me otherwise.

You might wonder how a person gets started on the drag circuit, or at least I did. It turns out that many performers are self-organized into different “families”. Veteran performers act as mentors to new performers, who become their “children”. Chris Stoner, who organizes most of the shows at the I-Beam, explained that that system was developed in the 60s and 70s, when gay men and women were often rejected by their own families. The drag families provided a sense of support and belonging.

I can’t speak for other drag show venues, but the I-Beam seems to be about as supportive of an establishment as you’re likely to find. It was obvious that many people in the audience were familiar with the backgrounds and situations of the performers. Everyone laughed at the inside jokes.

It was the first time one of the kings (stage name Buddy Hotty) had performed alone onstage, but judging from the reaction of the crowd, you’d think he was a star performer. Everybody tipped, and he was treated to raucous applause at the end. Raquel explained that new performers are always treated generously, because they’re the ones that need the most encouragement.

One of the main questions that I came to answer was, why do it? I’m not sure what answer I expected, but I suppose it was something high-brow, like, in order to explore gender constructions and identity. That might be part of it, but it certainly isn’t all.

Once I was there, I realized the answer was more basic. People were really just there to have fun. It’s fun to get dressed up and be the center of attention and act crazy while the audience cheers for you. And it’s fun to be a character you’ve created yourself. Stoner, whose alter-ego Janessa Jaye Champagne hosts most of the I-Beam’s drag events, says, “I love it! It’s fun to be the center of attention, and to create this whole new character.”

While many of the performers are gay, it’s not a requirement. Sarah Galbraith, who plays BJ Armani on stage, says she got started doing drag through some friends in the gay community. Through the process of creating a drag character, she says she’s developed a better understanding of herself. As for people who might criticize her, Galbraith shrugs them off. “If people are going to call me a freak, I’d rather be a freak than be normal.”

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