They’ll put a cheap plastic crown on their heads and suddenly be speaking like they’re Lady Schnozzlebottom of Willoughby Manor, drinking Darjeeling out of the finest porcelain, complete with extended pinkie.
Adults too. If you’ve ever been to a fancy-dress birthday party, you’ll know. That costume changes your behaviour in sometimes subtle, often blatant ways that are a far departure from your usual comportment.
You might don a puffy dress and realise you’re picking your way far more delicately across the dance floor and holding yourself more upright.
Or that superhero costume with padded muscles will see you strutting around, hands on hips, your voice growing a shade deeper and louder as you greet your friends with a boisterous clap on the back instead of the usual brief handshake.
That’s what makes it fun.
For just a few moments, you get to pretend you’re someone else. You can come out of your shell and do things your Average Joe or Josephine self would usually be too shy or self-conscious to do in normal circumstances.
It’s one of the many reasons why drag performances are so popular.
Now, let me tread carefully into a topic I am familiar with as an observer but, as a straight, white, cisgender woman, far from an expert in. I don’t claim to speak for anyone in the LGBTQ+ community and am sharing my own observations based on what I’ve seen and read.
Disclaimer done, here goes.
Drag is ostentatious. Everything is exaggerated – the hair, the makeup, the mannerisms. Performers spend hours crafting their drag identities and routines, fine-tuning that alter-ego until it is basically a fully-fledged being, separate from its creator.
Some drag performers can be true divas – they’ll get to the stage channelling Mariah or Cher, and their command of the stage forces you to give them their undivided attention.
Some are incredible dancers with the fitness and strength of a pro athlete – in heels nonetheless. Others will ham it up and have you in stitches with their comical, over-the-top expressions and often crude jokes.
It’s a display of self-expression and opulent fantasy. It’s something that takes a lot of skill and courage to execute. It’s an art form.
Then the performers will take off their heavy wigs, remove their glittery make-up, and swap their sky-high stilettos for sneakers ready to blend back into the crowd.
Drag has traditionally been performed mostly by gay men, although it’s also not unheard of for any gender or sexuality to dress in drag.
And drag is not synonymous with transgender people either, contrary to popular belief in some circles.
A trans person could potentially be a drag performer, true, but from what I understand, that’s a relatively rare occurrence.
As an article in The Conversation put it: “Put simply, ‘transgender’ refers to a personal gender identity and an authentic, lasting sense of self. In contrast, ‘drag’ is a temporary and deliberate performance of gender.”
In other words, drag is something a person takes on and off.
It’s the magic of dressing up.
I took my toddler along to the Erika and CoCo Flash Rainbow Storytime session on Monday and boy, was it fun.
Here I’m going to give you a detailed, blow-by-blow account of exactly what happened. Ready those clutchin’ pearls, people.
Sunita Torrance, aka CoCo, came out in a purple velvet suit and voluminous crimped wig, complete with glittery blue eyeshadow.
CoCo lip synched to a song, read a hilarious book called The Book With No Pictures by BJ Novak, that had the kids in fits of giggles, played the fun toddler action song Shake Your Sillies Out, then introduced her friend Erika, aka Daniel Lockett.
Erika entered, wearing a pink rock’n’roll-style dress with white polka dots and a sky-high Marilyn Monroe-esque blonde wig. Erika lip synched to the famous Frozen theme song Let It Go, then read the book Red: A Crayon’s Story by Michael Hall, and finished by singing a song loved by children and hated globally by parents, Baby Shark.
Then the children were given an opportunity to have a photo with the glamorous stars and everyone left.
That’s it. That’s all that happened.
There was no Secret Gay Agenda to convert children to, I don’t know, Dragism? Gaydom? Lesbianity?
There was no burning of bibles, handing out of anti-straight pamphlets or tutorials for how to draw the perfect drag eyebrows. Although I would have enjoyed that last one, to be fair.
There was nothing remotely sexual or revealing. It was all child friendly and appropriate, exactly what I would have expected of any children’s performer at a library.
It was entertaining, pretty, and interactive.
It was wholesome, cute fun.
Just songs, dancing, and reading together with two people in bright outfits and matching cheerful smiles.
Magical.
Sonya Bateson is a writer, reader, and crafter raising her family in Tauranga. She is a millennial who enjoys eating avocado on toast, drinking lattes and defying stereotypes. As a sceptic, she reserves the right to change her mind when presented with new evidence.
