Good Enough: Finding My Place in a World of Expectations
Growing up with sisters, I was always the tomboy of the family. My dad, who always wanted a son, seemed to pin his hopes on me to fill that role. Despite my efforts, it never felt like I was good enough. I climbed trees, played sports, and embraced everything traditionally "boyish," but still, there was this underlying sense that I wasn't meeting some unspoken expectation.
Joining the military was another chapter in my life where I struggled to prove myself. It was a tough environment where the idea that women weren't physically and emotionally strong enough for my job was pervasive. Even when I was recognized for my hard work, it often came with the dismissive notion that it was only because I had boobs. This constant battle for recognition, for validation, took its toll.
When I immersed myself in the drag community, I hoped for a different experience. And in many ways, it has been. I've received plenty of recognition and accolades for my makeup artistry and talent. The creativity, the performances, the community—all of it has been incredibly rewarding. Yet, there's still this lingering feeling of being held back.
Entering the drag world was like discovering a vibrant, colorful oasis where self-expression was not only accepted but celebrated. The first time I stepped onto a stage, decked out in my carefully crafted persona, I felt a rush of exhilaration and liberation. Here was a space where I could channel all my creative energy, where my skills in makeup and performance could shine, and where I could be seen and appreciated for my artistry.
The recognition I received was immediate and gratifying. Fellow performers and audiences alike appreciated my looks, my technique, and the emotion I poured into every act. Each compliment, each cheer, each round of applause felt like a balm to my long-wounded spirit. In the drag community, I found a sense of belonging that had eluded me in so many other areas of my life.
Yet, despite the accolades and the sense of community, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still holding me back. As an AFAB (assigned female at birth) performer identifying as a king, I quickly realized that the world of drag, like many other spaces, had its own set of barriers and biases.
I sometimes wonder if I'm struggling with entitlement. Did I come into this world of drag with naive expectations? As a Drag King, I knew I would face marginalization. I was prepared for it, or so I thought. But hearing things like, "We already have two kings; we can't book more than that for a show," hits hard. It makes me question my place and my worth and I am left feeling a familiar sting of exclusion. It is a reminder that even in a space that prides itself on inclusivity and breaking boundaries, there are still invisible walls that need to be torn down. The limitations placed on kings felt like another layer of the same old struggle for recognition and acceptance.
Questioning my place and my worth once again, I wonder, am I being too ambitious? Am I expecting too much? The answer, I realized, lies not in my expectations but in the systemic issues that persist even in progressive spaces. The struggle isn't about my entitlement; it's about the need for continued advocacy and change.
It's not about feeling entitled to success without effort. I've put in the hours, the creativity, the passion. It's about the frustration of feeling like no matter how hard I work, there's always a ceiling, a limit placed on me because of my gender and identity. It's about wanting to be seen and appreciated for my talent without the constant reminders of the boundaries others set.
In navigating this complex landscape, I've learned that my journey in the drag community is both a personal and a collective one. It's about pushing boundaries, not just for myself but for everyone who feels marginalized or overlooked. It's about creating spaces where all performers, regardless of their gender identity or background, can thrive and be celebrated for their unique contributions, so despite these challenges, I continue to push forward. I've learned that proving myself is less about meeting others' expectations and more about embracing my own journey. It's about finding joy in my craft, connecting with those who appreciate what I bring to the stage, and breaking down the barriers that hold me back.
So, while the feeling of repression still lingers, it also fuels my drive to keep performing, creating, and advocating for change. The drag community has given me so much, and in return, I want to help make it even better—for myself and for all those who come after me. Because at the end of the day, the essence of drag is about breaking free, defying norms, and celebrating the extraordinary diversity of human expression.
Despite the challenges and feelings associated with the marginalization of drag kings, I've found immense strength and support within the drag community. It's in this space that I've encountered fellow kings who share my struggles and my vision for a more inclusive scene – both virtually and in person. Together, we are not just performers; we are advocates, pushing for equality and recognition. This solidarity has been a game-changer, transforming my feelings of repression into a powerful drive for change. Moreover, the support from queens who understand our underrepresentation and actively use their platforms to uplift us has been incredibly heartening. This sense of community and mutual support has been a beacon of hope and empowerment, guiding me towards a more fulfilling and impactful journey in the drag world.
Being a part of the drag king community is one of the most empowering experiences of my life. Surrounded by fellow artists who are equally passionate about bringing equality to the scene, I find myself constantly inspired and motivated. These kings, with their incredible talent and unwavering dedication, create a space where we can all thrive, pushing boundaries and challenging norms together. The sense of camaraderie and support among us is palpable; we are not just performers but advocates for change, each striving to make the drag world more inclusive and representative.
What makes this journey even more rewarding is the solidarity we receive from queens who recognize the underrepresentation we face. These queens, who have long been the face of the drag community, are opening their minds and hearts to our experiences. They use their platforms to uplift us, shining a light on the exceptional performances and artistry that kings bring to the stage. Their willingness to ally with us, to understand our struggles, and to actively support our growth, is a testament to the true spirit of drag—a spirit of inclusivity, diversity, and mutual respect.
I deeply appreciate and respect these queens who go beyond mere acknowledgment to actively champion our cause. Their support not only amplifies our voices but also encourages us to reach new heights in our craft. When queens with established followings share their stages and platforms with us, it creates opportunities for visibility and recognition that might otherwise be out of reach. This collaboration fosters a richer, more vibrant drag scene where everyone, regardless of their gender identity, can shine and be celebrated for their unique contributions.
In this community, I've found a place where my efforts and talents are recognized and valued. The drag king community, along with our queen allies, is forging a path towards a more equitable and inclusive future. Together, we are redefining what it means to be a drag artist, breaking down barriers, and creating a legacy of acceptance and empowerment for all who follow in our footsteps.
So, here's to all the kings, queens, and everyone in between who continue to fight for their place in the world. We may face obstacles, but our passion and talent will always shine through. And as we keep pushing those boundaries, we'll create spaces where everyone can feel good enough, just as they are.
