DRAMA QUEEN
DRAGQUEENAPHOBIC
Artistic license by Greg Triggs

Sometimes you have to admit to your feelings, no matter how unpleasant or unfair. You’ve just got to own up and amends must be made. This is such a time because I am guilty of prejudice. I am a former bigfag – or, a bigoted faggot. That’s right, you read it here in WATERMARK. Greg Triggs, is a recovering drag-queen-a-phobic.

Years ago in the late 1980’s, back in Madison, Wisconsin, a fabulous faux female named Sass DuBois had a crush on me. I can still see her lacquered eye lashes fluttering when I entered a room. Breathtaking. She was glorious – her own thick, blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders and the shapeliest legs ever to be shoved into a pair of L’eggs. On stage she was sophisticated, sexy and funny. Off stage he, Brian was his real name, was kind, bright and handsome. He was generous and fun. And ultimately he was a missed opportunity. After trying to win my affections for a while, Sass DuBois gave up and floated into the sunset wearing a blue sequined mini-dress.

I was twenty one years old and had just started being open about the whole gay thing. I wanted men and I wanted them badly. Brian spent a good deal of his time as Sass, a woman. It was hard to get perspective on that. I was simply too young and inexperienced. Now, fast forward to the new millennium and sometimes over a glass of sassy merlot, I think of him as the boy-girl that got away.

Surely I was not the first queer boy to pass up the golden ring attached to the lobe of a dragster, but I regret it just the same. Drag Queens deserve respect from others and themselves. In TORCH SONG TRILOGY circa 1978, Harvey Fierstein in full regalia says, “Once the E.R.A. and gay civil rights bills have been passed, me and mine will find ourselves swept under the carpets like the blacks done to Amos, Andy and Aunt Jemima.” History has proven him wrong.

Sadly, the Equal Rights Amendment never passed and thanks to HAIRSPRAY, Harvey Fierstein is back in a girdle…

I admire drag queens because they give themselves permission to be whom and what they are, to the nth degree, in a manner that I never have. That requires a strength that is hard won. And respect must be paid.

The illusion alone is worthy of a great actor. It took Jude Law, a team of ten stylists and three hours a day to transform him in THE ROAD TO PERDITION. Give Jim Bailey a tub of foundation, a gift certificate to the Fashion Bug and a roll of duct tape and you’ll have a pretty girl in half an hour.

The accomplishments of the drag community in Orlando are astounding. Who works harder on the benefit circuit? The Headdress Ball raised over $200,000.00 for Hope and Help this month. Sam Singhaus, as his latest creation Zelda, led the feminine power posse to a helpful end. Watching the show, I was struck by how talented so many of the drag performers in town are. They came. They sang. They conquered. And the chosen of Central Florida were cheering them on with cash falling out of their wallets. The drag artists lived up to a word that is thrown around far too much.

They were and are fabulous.

Unfortunately this epiphany came too late for me. Never shall I know the pleasure of wiping Sass DuBois’s Max Factor off my lips. Every year the memory of Brian fades a bit and my esteem grows. It takes a lot of guts to strap on your stiletto heels and walk along the corn fields of Wisconsin in a Versace knock-off. I wish I had known that when I knew him.

So, as I drink tonight’s glass of merlot, I raise it to Miss Sammy, Zelda, RuPaul, Darcel, Miss P., Carol, Dame Edna, Carmella, Hedwig, Nazhoni and Sass DuBois. Here’s to you, ladies. You’ve got balls.