Drag performance has its roots in ancient ritual.  In Greece’s Golden Age, Antigone and Medea were played by male actors in the annual theater contest that was part of the week-long ritual to celebrate Dionysus.  Contemporary drag culture is ritualistic, but the ritual has a different form and a very different purpose.  For many modern gay man like me, drag is a two-tiered ritual of empowerment and acceptance.

The first part of the ritual is personal.  Each queen has her own process.  Here is mine:

I sit at my mirror.  Staring back is the face of the boy who was bullied and teased for being feminine and different. As a child, being called a girl was the worst possible insult.  I tried to fit in, butch it up, play a sport.  The result? More taunting: “Sissy!” “You throw like a girl!” “Fag!”  Eventually, I protected myself by squashing my nature, muting any flamboyance, conforming to a limited sense of masculinity.  I hid under drab clothes.  Awkward.  Self-conscious.  Afraid of myself. 

But now, in front of this mirror, I transcend.

The transformation ritual involves applying foundation, eye shadow, rouge, lipstick, and so on. As I watch in the mirror, the man slowly disappears as each stroke and lash is carefully applied.  To an observer, it would appear that I am hiding once more, creating a mask to fool the outside world.  In fact, the opposite is true. As I work, the hidden self is exposed and made prominent.  I create beauty where I once saw imperfection.  The woman that I eventually see in the mirror is powerful, confident, a warrior.  She is impervious to criticism.  She cannot be harmed.  She is the antidote to the bullies of my youth.