There was no “trans” they called you “tomboy” or an “asshole.” Obviously, I come from the drag-nightlife world, but I also come from the straight world, the showbiz world. There's so much language now, so much identity politics. From day one, 23 years ago, I fight and fight and fight just to be called a comedian. So I always felt anytime you put anything in front of my name, I'm not equal to you. Part of my strategy is to be an assimilationist, to work from the inside. Murray Hill (legendary New York City comedian): From the beginning, which was when I had cheekbones like K.James, I never wanted to be called. If you're going to other me, if you're going to fear me, I’m going to give you an image to fear. Like, if you don't want me, I'm going to take over your kingdom. I think I very much went the Disney-villain route. If I don't fit anywhere, I'm going to throw it in your face.
I very much leaned into the labels because my performance persona is a very sensationalized representation of all of my intersecting identities, and how othered every single one of them are. Nyx Nocturne (drag and burlesque multidisciplinary artist): I feel like I come from a very different perspective because I identify as a gender-fluid draglesque beast. Suit, shirt and bow-tie, by Thom Browne | Hat, by Worth & Worth by Orlando Palacios | Cane from TDF Costume Collection | Cummerbund from Helen Uffner Vintage Clothing “I interpret that word as taking real stock of what has been done historically to bring us to this point, where there is both a lot of freedom and a lot more work to be done.” “There seems to be some investment in presenting as a new phenomenon, which is not right, specifically in a month about pride,” says Velour. Or Joan of Arc, the patron saint of France who was burned at the stake in 1431 for donning men’s clothing, considered a violation of natural decency. Take Stormé DeLarverie, the comedian, singer, and drag king who hosted the Jewel Box Revue in the ’50s and ’60s, and is said to have thrown the first punch at Stonewall. That erasure from popular culture runs parallel to an erasure from queer history. I think it’s a lesson the world needs right now, but we are lacking an appreciation for the artists pursuing it.” Drag kings taught me to see the construction of the male image, and that in turn reminded me to be more flexible and have more fun with it. But “masculinity is so inherently ridiculous and over-the-top and camp,” says Velour, who regularly features drag kings in her long-running NYC-based drag theater show, Nightgowns, which she now tours around the world: “I think about facial hair, which is a kind of decorative adornment, or the tuxedo, which is one of the most complicated and status-shifting garments in the world. We have an easier time accepting the pageantry of femininity, the thinking goes. Despite a thriving, tight-knit scene of drag- king collectives, the art form remains on the margins of conventional drag culture, which, thanks to Drag Race, has sashayed squarely into the mainstream. The cigarette-wielding aristocrat was inspired by the drag kings of history, she wrote in the caption, “who I think are just as responsible for the camp sensibility as us queens!”ĭrag kings have been largely absent from conversations about camp-or, for that matter, conversations in general. After spending an hour accentuating the parts of her face that she typically disguises, Velour staged a photo shoot in her Brooklyn apartment as Alexander Velvet, her mustached “highly artificial” alter ego, and shared it on social media.
“And I decided it would be a drag king,” which contained the wink and nudge of purposefully performing Velour’s assigned gender (out of drag, Velour uses the “they/them” pronoun, but uses “she” in drag). What was it? What wasn’t it? And who gets to decide? “I asked myself what would be the campiest look I could pull,” says Sasha Velour, the Season Nine winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race. In the weeks leading up to this year’s Met Gala, the precise definition of camp seemed to be the fashion world’s sole fixation.
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