Sashaying away from my inner saboteur

A student reflects on their experience watching “RuPaul’s Drag Race” and how it helped them find self-love and humor through adversity.

I scrolled through TikTok every day in 2020, desperate for entertainment during the mind-numbing boredom of quarantine during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

Nicki Minaj’s voice boomed through my headphones in nearly every other video saying, “I hate, hate, HATE your hair and makeup today.” The camera then cut to season 12 “RuPaul’s Drag Race” cast member Heidi N Closet’s face, caked in awkward makeup, utterly shocked that Minaj was so critical of her appearance. 

That clip jump-started my love for Drag Race, and I’ve since seen every American season at least three times. I started the show in season five, watching drag queens like Alaska, Jinkx Monsoon and Detox run amok around a sickeningly pink set, exchanging digs at each other and playing mind games to try and win. 

Upon my first watch, I realized Drag Race had a sense of humor unlike any other show. The show wholeheartedly embraced self-deprecation and the belly laughter that came from the absurd. The motto that drove the show then remains the same — “The stupider the better.” 

Before the COVID-19 quarantine, I was an undeniably awkward and socially inept teenager. I was overly insecure about nearly every part of myself, like my body, sense of humor and voice. I never spoke to people I didn’t know and certainly would never crack jokes out of fear of people not finding them funny enough to even evoke a pity laugh. 

When I started watching Drag Race, I never expected it to speak to my insecurities, as the brand of drag queens has always been the undeniable confidence that often bordered on arrogance. But as I continued to watch season after season, including spin-offs, Drag Race offered a window to the heart of the queens beyond the spectacle of rhinestones and ostrich feathers. 

There seemed to be a new girl each week sharing stories of adversity or family troubles while caking layers of foundation and powder on their faces. Queens exchanged experiences of homophobia, homelessness and mental illness while maintaining their confidence which I admired deeply. 

But as heartfelt as these moments were, they always found an opportunity to turn their trauma into a bonding experience. These heartfelt moments make the show less about drag and more about the invaluable community that comes along with it. 

When RuPaul was made aware of a queen’s insecurities or past traumas, something he affectionately calls “the inner saboteur,” he would discourage them from wallowing in their emotions. Instead, he encourages them to laugh at themselves and to turn hardships into humor. 

The more I watched the show, I started to pick up on this message, albeit very slowly. Droves of queens confidently sauntered down the stage, oftentimes right after melting into a puddle of tears backstage. 

When I got stuck in an emotional rut in my teen years, I would drown myself in the negative things I was feeling. In a bout of self-loathing, I would stand in front of a mirror and surgically dissect the flaws of my body. I would scold the shelf of fat at my hips or the broadness of my shoulders.  

But when I was stuck in this cycle, I would remember the queens who used drag to dance through the pain for the sake of entertainment. Instead of indulging in negativity and yielding to the suffocating grip of insecurity, they used it to their advantage. 

They gave new life to their suffering in the form of comedy. In the season 14 premiere, Willow Pill made her talent show number a play on the mind-numbing practice of self-care during the heat of the COVID-19 pandemic. 

She was sitting at a quaint table and chair set with a flawless face of makeup, voraciously shoving spaghetti and meatballs in her mouth while an Enya song ran through the speakers. She openly invited viewers to immerse themselves in her pain but also to experience joy and laughter in the process. 

Queens like Willow Pill hammered the show’s message into my brain harder than anyone else: laughter is the best anecdote for reveling in self-doubt. 

Drag Race is about a lot more than drag. The gowns, latex bodysuits and mountainous wig styles are only the surface of the deeper lessons there are to excavate. 

Slowly but surely, I cracked open the shell of insecurities that kept me from being my fully realized self. I started to get into the show because of my love for drag, but I continue to tune in for the endearing messages. 

I don’t know who I would be today if it wasn’t for Drag Race. Before I would often revel in negativity because I thought it was the most effective way to get by. Now, the most important thing to me in life is laughter and love, because adversity is always a tad bit more bearable when you smile with those you love.

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