002: dragging fascists, or, the transness of DC drag
tara hoot at the kennedy center on 3.8.2025
One of the most surreal aspects of moving to Maryland as a teen was my new proximity to historic national arts institutions. In 2007, I played upright bass in my school’s jazz band at the Kennedy Center’s Millennium Stage. In the years since, I’ve seen incredible concerts in every part of the building. I’ve frolicked around the Reach with my queer performance family, Haus of Bambi, during our Office Hours Residency. I’ve seen and celebrated contemporary dance, and listened to the NSO play the scores of my favorite movies.
My last visit to the Kennedy Center was for the rally and march to demand that the institution lift the ban on drag and other LGBTQ+ programming, led by DC drag artists. These performers are my friends, collaborators, muses, and my community. In 2016, when I was photographing every hardcore punk show I could manage, I photographed the drag queen fronted queercore band Homosuperior. I joined the band a year later. We called it quits a few months before Covid hit, but my love of alternative drag remained.
What gripped me about alternative drag is that it shatters the limited definition of drag as cis men performing caricatures of femininity. It turns gender on its head in the most fun ways: queens with beards color-matched to their wigs, un-stuffed bras over hairy chests, sexy drag kings that would have an Usher-serenading-you-in-Vegas effect on anyone, music selections far outside of the top 40. As Bambi likes to say, “gendermore and genderless.” These are some of the most innovative, dynamic performers you will see anywhere in the country, and it must be noted that many of them are trans and non-binary.
The truth about these bans is that they are not attacks on the first amendment or the art of drag. Not that this administration sees any artistic value in drag, of course. This particular brand of neocon white supremacist lacks any real imagination. These are bans on trans people existing in public. A ban on drag means that anyone perceived to be engaging in drag, which by their definition means expressing oneself in clothing, hair, or grooming that doesn’t align with one's perceived biological sex, would be committing a crime. The goal is to make being trans in public a crime.
It was Pussy Noir, one of the rally’s speakers, who taught me just a few years ago that drag was started by formerly enslaved Black men right here in DC. William Dorsey Swann, or Queenie Swan, hosted drag balls in his residence on L Street NW as early as 1887. That’s decades before the Harlem Drag Ball Scene emerged. The DC council even approved a bill to re-dedicate Swann Street to this Swann in 2022.
mx. noir, drag artist and historian
And herein lies a truth that queer and trans people have known for some time: Representation has limits. RuPaul can have the winningest competition show on television. Restaurants can ignore queer art for 11 months and then host one drag brunch in June to check a box (no shade to any performer who takes the gig - please secure the bag). The White House can invite drag artists to pride celebrations. None of that protects drag.
There’s a reason The Rainbow Defense Coalitioncame to be. There’s a reason that every week, we see calls for mutual aid so that our trans siblings can access gender affirming care. And that is because, historically, regardless of which party has control of congress or sits in the oval office, this country is not interested in protecting trans people in real, tangible ways. On March 31st, Trans Day of Visibility, for every positive and affirming post you’ll see on social media, you’ll see an equal amount of posts that will remind you: Visibility without protection is often a trap. Visibility without protection leaves one vulnerable to all kinds of violence, both online and out in the world.
This applies to any and all minority groups. Representation gives us firsts, and hope for what could be. Visibility gives us examples of all the ways we can exist in the world. But the rest of the world is not yet aligned in this vision. So until the rest of the world catches up, we cannot limit ourselves to simply being seen. Representation and. Visibility and. Reflect on how you wish to complete those phrases.
What does hosting drag programming at a national art institution like the Kennedy Center do? Beyond putting money in artists’ pockets, it sends a message to the country: Drag is a valid form of art. It is worthwhile. It is worth celebrating, financing, and experiencing. It is for everyone. This drag ban communicates the opposite. But we already know that drag is a valid artform. We’ve been thrilled, moved, and entertained by drag on TV, on stage, at local bars for decades. Or in the case of DC, for over a century.
Drag deserves a place at the Kennedy Center. But we do not need the Kennedy Center to support and uplift our performers. What we need is consistent, tangible support. I implore you to take the money you would have spent at the Kennedy Center, show up to bar gigs and storytimes, and tip well. If the gigs are past your bedtime, many performers have cashapp or venmo. Show up to protests. Make your dissent known. Donate to funds for gender affirming care. Contribute to mutual aid.
Isn’t it such a slap in the face? “Taxation without representation,” and the little representation we have as queer and trans district residents isn’t enough to protect us. So much is at stake at this very specific intersection of the arts, trans rights, and Home Rule. Community is an action, not an idea. Start there, and meet the moment with pride.
drag! snatch!
protect trans lives ♥︎
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