Drag Shows and Gun Laws
The first drag show I ever witnessed was in Nashville, TN.
The night before I had picked out my outfit — tight jeans, light purple and green tank, black flats, hair pulled up — ready for dancing.
That Friday night, I walked into Play on Church St without a lot of expectations. But even so, I felt nervous.
I had never been to a gay dance club before. But my friend Logan, from my grad school program at Belmont, had casually mentioned during a class break, “I used to go all the time to Play, but I haven’t been back in a while. But if you’d want to go, I’ll take you guys.”
“I’d go,” was my response. Brittany also chimed in.
Out of the three of us who went out that Friday night, I was the most sheltered.
I had grown up fervently religious, even attending Bible school in the hopes of becoming a youth pastor one day. Instead, I had left the church by age 30.
And not on bad terms. No one had insulted me. No pastor had raped me. Nothing outright “wrong” had happened.
But I had begun to change. I had become curious as to how the non-religious perceived the world. The “truth” that I had lived with my whole life started to reveal cracks beneath the surface. And so my night out at Play was one of many forays that year into understanding the “other side”.
We danced together. The three of us. Non-sexually.
Not one guy hit on me. Not one person grabbed me. Even in the shared bathroom space — gender fluid if you will — I was safe. Without the constant need to ward off inebriated and overly touchy men, I was uninhibitedly at ease.
And then the DJ announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for the Princess!” With an orange skirt, sleeveless black top, and black heels, she strutted on stage, moving to the music, waving to the crowd of supporters.
There were no genitals showing. There was little to no grinding. She danced. Like I had been doing. But with an audience.
My religious upbringing chirped at me, “This is unholy. Sex is a sin. Don’t enjoy it.”
Later that same year, I went to my first strip club. Remember how I had said I was sheltered? Well that year — my 29th — I had decided to explore the world, the places, and the experiences I had previously shunned.
And what did I find?
Both the drag show and the strip tease have dancing. Both shows have music. Both shows have an audience. And compared to the topless women sliding up and down poles, drag was tame.
In both scenarios — the drag show and the striptease — I felt uncomfortable. I had never been in either environment before.
But only at the strip show did I feel a sense of unease that lingered with me longer. At the strip club, the unease came from the audience of mostly males — drinking, seated, ogling from a distance.
At the drag show, the audience was on their feet, encouraging the performers with shouts and cheers — participating, dancing along to the music, respectfully flirting. A mutual exchange of vibrant energy.
I find myself today — at the age of 39 — with Nashville still on my heart. Nashville was the place I taught the longest — at a private school. Nashville was where I invested in myself — lived alone for the first time, started traveling internationally, walked away from organized religion, and finally found myself.
And so, recent events have unhinged me.
Taken together, the Nashville school shooting and the “anti-drag” and “anti-trans” bills that have been signed recently make me question where my beloved city is heading.
On April 1, 2023, SB0003 will take effect.
The law, “as enacted, creates an offense for a person who engages in an adult cabaret performance on public property or in a location where the adult cabaret performance could be viewed by a person who is not an adult.”
So the voters and elected officials of Tennessee have decided that the possible harm that could be caused by witnessing a drag show needs immediate remedy, whereas the likely harm that will be caused by another school shooter does not.
Where is the uproar about the easy access to guns? Where is the bill to “create an offense” for those who purchase multiple weapons without a thorough background check? Where are the lawmakers who will stand up for protecting children in their classrooms?
Listen, I’ve been in both camps. The religious right. The liberal left. Neither side has the complete hold on truth.
And, yes, the drag shows at Play will still go on, but the trans community is still on edge, especially with SB0001 also passed.
So when will those planning mass shootings also need to be on edge?
One thing I do know is that stricter laws about drag performances will not keep children safer.
Putting our sexuality back in the closets will not make us more pure-hearted.
Pretending we are all heteronormative does nothing but keep us in darkness longer.
And turning a blind eye to real, actionable, legal steps to keep children safer seems reckless.
I never went back to a strip club. But I did return to the drag show. Because it was a fun, safe place to dance.
The LGBTQI+ community has never created the same sense of fear in me that I had when I was a school teacher. I spent over 12 years preparing children for an armed intruder event. Over 12 years of locking doors, crouching in corners, sealing exits, telling kids not to worry, “it’s just a drill.”
But one day it will not be a drill. One day a threat will come.
And one of these threats is real.
The other is not.
