Drag: Maybe It’s Just (NOT) Me …
Can I donate and skip the show, please?
Last Saturday, I treated myself to a day at Walt Disney World’s EPCOT, what Uncle Walt called his “Experimental Prototype Community of Tomorrow.” Of all the Disney parks, EPCOT is my favorite, as it showcases not only glimpses of the future, but cultures from around the world. Having spent all my post-military years in education, these are topics that very much appeal to me.
It’s very easy to spend money at a Disney park, which I’m sure any visitor will attest. I’m usually pretty good about not overspending, but Disney bring out my inner shopaholic. Except for food — which I tried to avoid overindulging in since I’m still recovering from heart bypass surgery — I did fairly well. I waited until the end of the evening before making any purchases, so I had time to really think about what I’d seen throughout the day and mentally weed out items I could talk myself out of.
Collectible pins are very popular at Disney parks. Most are enameled chrome representing Disney characters, movies, specific parks, etc. I had seen the enameled rainbow Mickey Mouse heads, and thought I might purchase one. But then I noticed a more deluxe version: it was “bedazzled!” That’s right, a faux-jewel-encrusted rainbow Mickey pin, and in my weird little brain, I could just hear Glenn Campbell singing, “Like a rhinestone rat head …!” The light hit it just right, and it was SO sparkly! I just had to have it!
As I completed my purchase and exited the Pin Station, I couldn’t help but think to myself,
“Well, it’s official: I’m very gay!”
I had an experience a few years ago that had me wonder if maybe I wasn’t gay enough. A gay friend of mine invited me to go to a drag show. Honestly, I had never had any interest in drag, and the little snippets of such shows I’d seen on television never caught my attention. After trying to politely decline the invitation several times, I finally relented, more or less to get it over with. I really didn’t want to hurt his feelings as I’d already declined his romantic advances several times. (He was a very sweet man, ten years my junior, and very attractive, but there were other issues that dissuaded me from joining him in a more intimate relationship.)
So off we went one bitter-cold, windy winter evening, to The Flying Dutchman lounge. Although I really was not interested in the show, I was determined for my friend’s sake to get the most out of the evening as much as possible, to enjoy it if I could.
Try as I may, however, even plied with alcohol, I failed to “get it.” As far as I could understand, a bunch of guys put on wigs and dresses, bound up their junk, and troweled on Tammy Faye-like makeup to appear trashy. The ones who sang were able to carry a tune — barely, but nothing more. Those who couldn’t sing lip-synced like Milli Vanilli with lipstick. I didn’t feel any of them were very talented. I did not find them attractive; rather, I saw them as frightful looking, like evil clowns. I don’t know…is that the idea?
Even though I drove and ended up paying for the evening, I still thanked my friend for the experience, lied that I’d had fun (I did enjoy the buzz from the booze), but admitted that drag, I supposed, just wasn’t my “thing.”
I’m probably missing the whole point of drag. I’m sure there may be readers who will respond to this essay expressing that very opinion. And that is perfectly fine. Honestly, even if I could understand it, it would not become any more entertaining in my eyes. And there is definitely one aspect of drag that has me completely stymied:
Why is drag even popular with so many gay men?
I’m gay. I like men. I love to look at men — it often turns me on. I love to hear them speak and sing in natural voices. But wait — don’t jump to that conclusion that I only like “masc.” I can still hit lots of high notes when I sing along with The Beach Boys or Frankie Vallie. I’m certainly not “butch” myself, just kind of the “dad-next-door” type. And though I do like masculine-looking and acting men, I also find some feminine-acting and sounding men arousing.
I just don’t like men “done up” as women.
For those who enjoy drag, have at it. To those who perform in drag shows to raise money for charities and other good causes, I thank you and would certainly donate to those causes that touch my heart.
Just let me skip the show.
This story is a response to the Prism & Pen writing prompt, Let’s Talk About Drag! Pro, Con, in Between.
