A guy who put on a dress as a grad school assignment reflects on the power of RuPaul’s Drag Race.
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When I wore a dress in public it freaked me out.
I was in drama school studying to be an actor and I was cast in a production of Alice In Bed, Susan Sontag’s only play – a fantasy about Alice James, sister to writer Henry James. An earlier overseas production had some gender bending aspect to it, so the director of this version wanted the same flavor. I was tapped to play Alice’s nurse, in a large white custom made lady-smock (constructed by Tony winning costume designer Catherine Zuber) and white platform shoes.
I had my reservations – my fears about doing it. So did my father, who insisted I was being made fun of. But it was a featured production at the American Repertory Theatre and, essentially, part of my studies – so I went with it.
I was determined to handle it like a professional: breathe into the process, handle it with dignity and with my masculinity intact (stuffed bra and all). Though my father didn’t come to the show, in the end it was fun and not a big deal.
I think about that experience as I watch RuPaul’s Drag Race. When I first tuned in I was half-cringing, half-embarrassed; similar to when I put on that dress. Now it’s my favorite reality show.
As a rule, I’m not a fan of the reality genre: which, in my book, steals work from professional writers and actors. But this program, which I began watching a few seasons ago, is, for me, a transformative experience.
Part beauty contest, part game show, part make-over and part dress-making competition, there’s nothing like it on TV. Or rather, it’s an amalgam of stuff you’ve seen before, but never like this. And as a gay man of color, it’s mind-blowing to see RuPaul and so many gay men of color front and center every season, every week, as they compete for “American’s Next Drag Superstar”.
The episodes unfold with the contestants (Ru dubs them gentlemen, girls, ladies and queens interchangeably) facing a “mini-challenge” and a “main challenge” each week. They’re randomly called upon to do stand-up, create fashion from scraps and host mock-commercials to be judged by a panel. One winner is “congdragulated” by Ru in the show’s final moments.
As for the losers, two are “up for elimination” at the end of the episode. Ru gives them one last chance “…to impress me and save yourself from elimination. The time has come for you to lip sync for your life.”
The results are often brilliant and hysterical.
It’s a circus, to be sure; an entertaining drag circus. And the best part is when RuPaul Charles talks to the queens in the work-room as they’re preparing for the main challenge.
That’s when people share their difficulties and their triumphs: stories of bouncing back from bullying, disease, discrimination and abuse. Suddenly this camp-fest turns into a space of intimacy and pure emotion. I feel the strength of these men who are not only brave enough to wear wigs and heels, they’re brave enough to keep showing up after being knocked down – and to own all that on television.
My own drag experience wasn’t nearly as personal or as raw as this. I was wearing a costume in someone else’s play. These folks are engaged in their own drama – owning an outsized identity tethered to a deeply personal narrative.
When I mention this show to many of my straight friends they smile and mumble they might check it out. I doubt many of them have. I think they’d be surprised show is really about self-acceptance.
Each week Ru Paul says “If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else. Can I get an Amen up in here?”
Amen. There’s nothing like it on TV.