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Priscilla, Queen of the Desert on Broadway

Disco balls make everything better! (Stage prior to the start of the musical, even the stage was brilliant! April 10, 2011)

My wardrobe is severely in deficit of sequins and feathers.

And, after seeing Priscilla, Queen of the Desert on Broadway, who wouldn’t want an Auntie Felicia? Better yet, I want Felicia’s amazing ass, chiseled arms and thighs, her washboard abs, and to wear a hot pink mini dress the way she does. There’s something magical about Broadway when a lovely girl walks away wanting to dance, sing, and swagger like a Broadway drag queen, less the middle region quandary, of course.

The music, glitter, lipstick, shoes, and costumes paint a fabulous picture of self expression and confidence on tender souls who, like the rest of us, struggle with deafening self doubt, broken but hopeful dreams, and fractures in our souls. We’re all drag queens. Some of us are prettier on stage than others, but each of us pulls on a costume of some sort for our opening scenes. The question is how we show up at the curtain call…glammed up with feathers in our hair or bare faced and flat footed?

My initial disdain for Felicia turned to adoration when she reflected upon her fragile soul, when her true colors struggled to peek through the surface of her discouraged, sad eyes after threatened violence, humiliation, and rejection. Those colors brilliantly shimmered in shades of humility, courage, and a heart thirsty for acceptance and understanding. It’s not easy being a drag queen. Indeed, it’s likely that the suburbs are meant as much to keep rednecks out of gay bars as to keep drag queens in them. Safety may look different to you than it does to me.

I’d like to live as an inside-out drag queen adorning my soul with confidence and abundance, song and dance, color and flair so that the closer you get to the center of me, the more you are entertained, enchanted, and intrigued. If my weaknesses and flaws were just skin deep and my dreams and values were nourished by a well of eternal selflessness, love, and authenticism, how much less would my ass, abs, and biceps matter?

Yes, my wardrobe is dreadfully devoid of garments that sparkle and traffic stopping accessories. Too, my spirit pants for unconditional love, acceptance, grace, and friendship. We’re all drag queens. Some of us are just prettier on stage than others.

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Note from the author: I am an out and proud ally of the GLBT community and am very humbled by my GLBT friends and family who face each day with a courage I have never had to muster as a straight woman in a straight world. Stereotypes and biases about the gay community are as wild as they are fascinating and as misleading as they are kernels of truth…much like the perceptions and biases of any group of people. It’s my experience that there are wonderful, loving, generous, courageous people in every group and the more you look for them, the more of them you find. To my treasured friends who are fabulous inside and out, I love you. B

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