My Turn: What I've Observed

We were all searching for home.

Image by Luisella Planeta LOVE PEACE 💛💙 from Pixabay

Unlike today, drag used to something of a rarity. It wasn’t uncommon, but it was not ubiquitous, certainly not as visible as it is today. Some larger cities – San Francisco, New York – had more regular cabarets and entertainment than smaller cities far from Gay Ground Zero, but this was still years before televised reality competitions. When we experienced men in women’s clothing on television, they were part of a sitcom gag or a ratings stunt for a local talk show, something to be laughed at or sneered at, depending on which seat they filled.

In Baltimore, we had drag pageants, and they were an affair. Each of the major bars had their own annual competition for Miss Hippo, Miss Allegro, Miss What Have You. We had Miss Gay Maryland and Miss Gay Mid-Atlantic. These were events. A larger venue like the Hippo might have a few shows every year, mixed between pageants and fundraisers, and they always drew a massive crowd.

I attended my share of pageants during the few years I lived in Baltimore. I don’t remember much about any of them, to be honest. A few performances stand out, but I couldn’t tell you the names of any of the queens without prompting. I remember one performer lip synching to Natalie Cole’s “Jump Start My Heart” while dressed as the Bride of Frankenstein. I remember a group skit where the performers came out dressed as Patsy Cline, Judy Garland, Janis Joplin, and Mama Cass, each acting out the star’s death one by one in a drag grand guignol.

The ersatz Patsy came out with a toy airplane tangled in her wig, smiled and waved to the crowd, then threw herself down the stage steps. I may be misremembering the details, but I very much remember laughing my ass off.

But one particular performance at one pageant, and one special performer stood out from the rest, and even all these years later I can picture myself in that nightclub as if I were there.

I don’t remember the exact year or even which pageant. I don’t remember who won or the name of five of the contestants. But I’ll never forget the sixth. This is what I observed.

Bang Bang

This one particular evening, a drag pageant began as anyone might have expected. One by one, the MC introduced the contestants, young, slender queens, dressed to the nines in sequined gowns.

Back then – I won’t say exactly when – drag pageant contestants were judged against traditional standards of beauty and realness. The point was mimicking – not mocking – popular contemporary pageants and so we were conditioned to expect younger, slender, dolled up contestants on the walkway. In keeping with the realness standard, queens generally chose conventional stage names that signaled both glamour and soap opera. Delilah St. Clair, for example. I just made that up.

Non-contestants – the MCs, stand-up comics – could get away with less conventional looks, but in a pageant contestant, we expected glamour on the hoof, high hair, puffy shoulders, and every sequin in the box. This was fashion on poppers, and if the girls were a slightly more muscular and perhaps exaggerated version of Miss America contestants, that was part of the fun. Most had a significant tell – height, shoulders, leg muscles, shoe size – but when a queen captured both spectacle and realness, the result was breathtaking.

The first contestant came out, then the second, a third. I don’t remember their names, but you can imagine something like Stephanie, Staci, Alexa, Jacqueline, waists cinched, boobs bedazzled. And then came…

Bang Bang LaDesh.

The stage name Bang Bang LaDesh was one of several used by Harvey Fierstein’s character in his play Torch Song Trilogy, along with Virginia Hamm, Bertha Venation, Kitty Litter. I didn’t know that at the time. If Fierstein swiped the name from someone else, I’m not aware of it.

An unorthodox name, but fitting, as the figure of Bang Bang herself did not suggest glamour or soap opera vixen. No, Bang Bang was noticeably shorter than the other contestants, even with her hair teased up to God, and she was stout. She was technically in drag, but her dress was not snug. It was not covered in sequins that glinted in the limelight. As I recall, she wore flats. Imagine your mom in her Sunday best being pushed onto the set of Dynasty to compete with Joan Collins for the Carrington fortune, and you might have an idea how incongruous this looked.

To its credit, the crowd did not gasp, but the mood of the room tangibly shifted from tipsy anticipation to oh, shit. Remember, this was long before the days of body positivity and plus-sized pageant contestants and winners. This was something different.

The crowd applauded politely, but no one cheered or called her name, as had happened when every other contestant walked on. It was clear Bang Bang did not have a group of friends to root for her. She was on her own.

After introducing the remaining contestants, the MC attended to the evening’s housekeeping, introducing the judges and the categories: evening wear, interview, talent…and swimwear.

A slight murmur went up from the crowd.

The contestants came out again, individually, for the evening wear walk, in the same outfits they’d worn to be introduced, again as I recall. Bang Bang wore a dress she’d made herself, the announcer said, adding that tonight was her first night out in drag. We were not surprised by this.

It was a perfectly fine dress, in that it was not a potato sack, but it was not like the gowns of the other contestants, which wouldn’t have been out of place at a prom or an actual beauty pageant. It stood out, and not in the way someone wants to stand out in a contest of beauty, glamour, and realness.

By now, I had already begun assembling an impression of Bang Bang. She did not have a cheering section in the crowd. A few of my friends who knew everybody did not recognize her. Her clothes were, in comparison, plain. Knowing how much some of my drag acquaintances spent on gear, I guessed that Bang Bang might not have had the money to buy the kind of gown that won contests. I imagined the availability of plus-sizes was a factor, not to mention the limited number of places where a drag queen could safely shop for clothes.

But she had guts. During the interview segment – which generally contained the usual contestant blather about wanting to be a good representative for the community – Bang Bang was nervous, but composed, articulate. She must have known how badly she’d stand out from the other contestants, in size, clothes…everything really. And, as she confessed, she’d chosen a competition for her drag debut. That took more courage than most of us had.

No one knew what to expect for the swimsuit competition. In drag pageants, one-piece suits were common, but a daring – and very very skinny – contestant might risk a bikini. We waited anxiously for Contestant 4.

Bang Bang came out in a one-piece, as expected, wrapped in a brightly colored hip length silk beach robe and – as I recall – carrying a small beach ball. She may have been outgunned in height and hips, but she knew how to work with what she had. Again, she presented a vivid contrast to the other contestants. She didn’t look like the others, but she didn’t look bad, which is all she needed to do. I suspect I’m not the only person in the crowd who was relieved on her behalf. As it turned out, it wouldn’t be the only surprise of the night.

The talent segment always came last and took up a good half of the evening. Contestants generally lip synched to some popular song, though I had heard that sometimes a performer might sing live. As with the contestants, I recall few of these performances. The memorable queens went an extra mile, with props or an unusual song choice, a full skit acted out on stage, like those I mentioned above. Most didn’t. They came out in another glamour outfit, usually something less “prom queen” in favor of a little black dress equivalent or an aerobics outfit, depending on what kind of song they’d selected. They mouthed their lyrics, flounced and shimmied, maybe interacted with the crowd or their backup dancers, until the record faded out awkwardly.

Finally it was time for Bang Bang. By this time, we expected something unusual. Whether that would be something unusually good or unusually bad remained to be seen, but if Bang Bang had any chance of outshining her competition, her only hope was the talent segment.

The lights went down. A spotlight framed the very center of the stage. Bang Bang shuffled out dressed in a heavy patchwork skirt, several layers of blouses, a threadbare cardigan sweater, cloth wrapped around her feet. Her wig had been ratted up and tangled, her face was pale and smeared with dirt. She lugged a collection of shopping bags on stage.

In a competition that valued conventional beauty, glamour, and realness, Bang Bang had come out for her talent segment dressed like a bag lady.

The room went deadly silent, but this time not with empathy for someone in over her head, but with expectation. We had no idea what she was about to do, but it was clearly going to be something we had not seen that night, or maybe ever.

What she did was perform to Diana Ross singing “Home” from The Wiz. The song begins softly, with Diana/Dorothy thinking of home.

When I think of home, I think of a place where there’s love overflowing
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there with the things I been knowing

Bang Bang sang along and her preparation was evident. She didn’t merely flap her mouth in a close approximation of the lyrics, as a lot of queens did. She articulated, not in an exaggerated way, but with showmanship, what you would expect on the stage. During this opening portion, she pantomimed feeding pigeons, adjusting her hair, cleaning her face, and applying makeup, as she sat on her imaginary stoop.

The song slowly builds in tempo and volume.

Suddenly my world has changed it’s face, But I still know where I’m going
I have had my mind spun around in space, And yet I’ve watched it growing

At this point, Bang Bang started performing to the crowd, making eye contact, pleading for understanding, connection. The song builds toward a dramatic diva-ready fanfare at the conclusion.

And I’ve learned
That we must look inside our hearts
To find a world full of love
Like yours
Like me
Like home

The final note on “home” lasts 10 full seconds, during which Bang Bang stood, stared up into the spotlight, and clasped her hands as if she were calling on God. It would have been hard for anyone to miss the meaning in her song choice and performance. Like her bag lady character, Bang Bang was looking for her world, her love, her home, as much as any of us were in those plague years. Bang Bang tore that shit up.

When the music faded, the club erupted in a roar like I’d never heard before and never have again at a drag show of any kind. She sold that song beginning to end. The fact that she had entered the evening as a clear underdog, if not a sore thumb, and ended with everyone on her side was nothing short of spectacular. You couldn’t have written it better if it were a movie. None of the other contestants received an ovation like that at any point during the evening.

In the end, Bang Bang came in third place, second runner up. We assumed that she had been rated lower in evening wear and swimwear, but held her own in the interview, and made up serious ground in the talent portion, where she had clearly been the best of the six. That wasn’t enough to win, but enough to put three queens in her rearview mirror. Pretty damn good for a first night out in drag. I knew some performers who competed over several years and never reached the top three.

When the MC announced her as second runner up, the crowd roared again. Bang Bang’s face told the story. She had come out earlier that evening to polite but perplexed applause. No one, even she, expected her to win, place, or show. But she won the crowd and if she didn’t take the crown, she came closer than anyone thought she might. She was surprised and proud, touched and humbled. She’d done it.

And then, as the crowd hushed, some guy standing down front called her fat.

In the quiet, the word echoed across the club, like breaking glass, impossible to miss. Bang Bang’s eyes shot up. I doubt she could see who had spoken, not with the spotlight on the contestants, but she had heard. You could see it on her face. Everyone had heard.

All that work. Sewing her outfits, planning and rehearsing her performance. Having the guts to come out without a cheering section. New to the community. First time ever in drag. Coming off a massive triumph in talent and placing third of six in a contest no one would have expected her even to enter…

And this fucker stole that from her with one nasty comment.

Before anyone could speak, a lesbian standing next to this guy ripped him a new asshole, all the way from his who the fuck do you think you are? to his who gives a shit what you think? There is no doubt: A gay’s best friend and worst enemy is an angry lesbian.

I didn’t recognize the guy who’d spoken. If he’s alive, I bet he remembers that moment. I bet his ears are still burning from that dressing down.

The evening moved on. The first runner up and pageant winner were announced. It was fine. But I could see a bit of the glow had come off Bang Bang’s face. This was her community, but it might take more work to make it feel like home.

In fact, Bang Bang did keep competing. A year or two later, she won her first title. I had moved away by then, but I was so happy to hear that. I hope with time she had more applause and fewer assholes.