The Drag Queen of Havenwood Library

By Andrea Pine
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(Lights up on an individual who

is in their room, getting
dressed and applying makeup.
Clothes, accessories, and
various beauty products
surround them. She begins to
sing.)

If you’re a drag queen and you know it, strike a pose! If you’re a
drag queen and you know it, strike a pose! If you’re a drag queen and
you know it and you really want to show it - if you’re a drag queen
and you know it strike a pose!

And vogue. And vogue. And vogue and vogue and vogue.

(With each “vogue”, she strikes

a different dramatic pause
before smiling and relaxing.)

That’s a fun little activity we like to do at our monthly Drag Queen

Reading Hour at Havenwood Library. That’s right, queenies. It’s me -
I’m the problem. I’m the Drag Queen of your nightmares,
indoctrinating all the little boys and girls in the world!

For those of you who don’t have a sense of humor - you know who you
are - that was a joke. Or as TikTok stars like to say “For legal
purposes - THAT WAS A JOKE”. One more time for those in the back - I
was joooooking, y’all.

(She takes the time to target

various people in the audience
- bonus points if they’re
people who seem a little
uncomfortable.)

I’m not trying to indoctrinate kids. Or groom them. The only grooming
I do is on these luscious locks and, hello, that is a full-time job.
All jokes aside, it’s crazy to me that Queens have become the new It
girl for the Republican Party to target. I suppose I should have seen
it coming - I guess after centuries of hating on women, they were
getting bored and needed to spice up their agenda. And drag queens
are the perfect target. We still check the female box - and we do it
in a way where it’s immoral and a sin. We check the LGBTQ box. We
check the “too much fun and that makes Republicans grumpy” box.
Really - this was inevitable. I just wish it wasn’t attacking
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something so near and dear to my heart. I’ve been coming to the

Havenwood Library for the past three years and getting to tell
stories and bring joy to these kids’ lives…there’s nothing quite like
it.

(Perhaps there is a corkboard

of pictures nearby and she
points to a few that show her
all dressed up, surrounded with
smiling kids at the library.
Each one with a different
book.)

It’s a chance to connect with kids; to expose them to a unique and

diverse world and let them know that there’s space for each and every
one of them. Whoever they are, whatever they become - there’s a place
for them. It’s a lesson I wish I would have learned earlier in my own
life.

You know, I attended my first drag show when I was 16. I snuck out
with my friends and used the worst fake ID in history to get into a
small, crowded bar. It smelled like sweat and vodka, and my shoes
clung to the floor like it was covered in Elmer’s glue. I was a big
kid - shouldn’t be a surprise, since I’m a big girl now - so I was
trying my best to hide myself in ill-fitting clothes. I had this
oversized hoodie I wore pretty much every day. It was gray and frayed
and I wore it as a form of camouflage to blend into my surroundings
to go unnoticed.

My entire life changed when we were guided through a small curtain

and ushered into a backroom that had a tiny stage. The audience
itself was electric. People were there to have a good time - and,
this may be me self-projecting, but it really felt like people were
there to find something in themselves. A beautiful queen was up on
stage serving as the emcee. She was flirting with various members of
the audience, getting them ready for the next act - Natalie
Forrester. I know, I know, I was expecting all queen names to be
Cupcake Fontaine. But you’d be surprised at the level of class in the
Drag Queen community. We’re ladies, y’all. We know class.

(She relives the performance,

phsyicalizing some of the
movements and gestures of Miss
Forrester.)
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Miss Forrester came to the stage and I fell in love - not

romantically in love. I fell in love with the confidence she exuded.
I fell in love with how her outfit articulated her curves and
captured her personality. I loved that she was larger than life and
wasn’t afraid to take up space. I fell in love with myself and the
person I could be if I stopped hiding.

Natalie didn’t turn me gay. She didn’t turn me into a Drag Queen. Her
performance unlocked years of insecurity and my hidden moments of
trying on dresses and heels and dancing in my room. She wiped away
the shame I had once felt when I stole a makeup palette from CVS and
experimented with the different eyeshadow colors. She made me see
that it was ok to be myself and that there was a place in this world
that would love me for me.

I didn’t speak to Miss Forrester that night - or any other night I

returned to watch. She has no idea that she changed my life. She was
just being her full and fabulous self up there. You know, I went with
three other people that night, and, low and behold, none of them
discovered a secret identity as a baby drag queen and none of them
magically transformed into a gay. They enjoyed the show, but it
didn’t change who they were. It didn’t change who I was, either. It
just gave me the courage to be the me that I was hiding.

I think that’s why I love these reading hours. I don’t go to read to

create little mini queens. I go because I want every one of those
kids to feel comfortable in their own skin. So that they can feel
comfortable in becoming the high school football jock or the next
great inventor or a loving soccer mom that is going to slide into
your DMs to tell you about an amazing opportunity that usually
involves overpriced skincare or butt-ugly leggings. Or the next
little drag queen. I’m not seeking out recruits - but you know, I
spent a lot of my life hating who I was because I never once had
someone say it was okay to be me. I want kids to know that it’s okay
to love themselves - whoever they are.

And, sure, perhaps there’s a small part of me that wants to show kids
that I’m not a monster.

(She pauses, a memory flashing

before her eyes.)

You know, I remember going out to run errands like…oh five or six
years ago. I was in one of my drag ensembles and a small kid, about
four or five, pointed me out to his mom. I remember her grabbing his
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arm and pulling him away from me. Telling him that I wasn’t normal.
That I was a monster. And that he needed to stay away from “people
like me”.

There I was - comparing calories on lean cuisines and trying

desperately not to cry as I saw the shift in that boy’s expression go
from one of curiosity and kindness to one of distrust and hatred.

I’m not a monster, y’all. None of us are. But it seems every day, I’m
having to fight harder to prove that. Right now, I should be getting
ready for my monthly reading at Havenwood Library.

(She gestures around to her

clothes and a stack of
children’s books on a nearby
side table.)

But it was canceled. Because I am, apparently, a threat to society. I

am a monster. And I cannot be trusted around kids. People say I
should be raging. But mostly, I’m…sad. There are kids who are going
to grow up not trusting what they feel inside. Kids who don’t know
it’s okay to take up space. Kids who hide in oversized gray hoodies
and withdraw from others and contemplate if life is even worth it
because they think something is wrong with them.

I hope those kids hold on. I hope they find inspiration somewhere.
Whether it’s at a reading at their library, or sneaking into a tiny
bar using a fake ID or….anywhere else. I hope they find what they
need to know that whoever they choose to be is flawless.

(Slowly, she begins to strike a

myriad of poses as she did in
the beginning. You can see the
strength, sadness, and
resignation in her movements.)

If you’re a drag queen and you know it, strike a pose. If you’re a
drag queen and you know it, strike a pose. If you’re a drag queen and
you know, the world can’t keep you from showing it. If you’re a drag
queen and you know it - strike a pose.