Three Things We Can Learn From The Queens Of RuPaul’s Drag Race

Preface: I’ve had the flu since Sunday and have spent most of my time in bed sleeping, drinking gallons of water, and watching the current season of RuPaul’s Drag Race. It wasn’t until this afternoon that I got up, finally showered, washed my sheets, and then had to take a nap because it was the most movement I’d gotten in three days. So this may all be a result of exhaustion and cold meds. But really, I mean all of this. Love you, drag queens.

Shape wear

I ride or die with Spanx and Spanx-like products. I know, they’re awful. Getting them on is a workout in and of itself. They can be itchy, uncomfortable, and are likely to eventually give me a yeast infection. But I have yet to find a way to make me feel confident and presentable in even the slightest bit form-fitting top or bottom. (Try going to the gym to boost those endorphins and make me feel more secure and better about myself and even possibly shave an inch or two off the fupa? LOL.) However, I have found that despite appearing to be the leader in shape wear, Spanx just aren’t that great. I recently had two pairs (with a hole in the crotch and I was sure that I had found my new best friend) that ripped during the pulling up process. That is unacceptable. Now, these Queens know a thing or two (or a million) about shape wear; they came up with the gaff, for goodness sakes. I get jealous of these ladies each time I watch them walk down the runway because they are so smooth and put together, their flawless curves stealing the show every damn time while I shove chocolate chips in my mouth and scour the web for Spanx sales - because to where else do I turn? Tonight I turn to drag queen forums, and it’s a shame I didn’t think of this earlier.

Confidence

While I envy their selection of shape wear, I simultaneously wish for the confidence to simply feel good in my own skin. Yes, these ladies are putting on a show, allowing us a peek into the transformation. But the body and the person under the makeup, jewels, feathers, and wigs is still the same. There were three big girls at the beginning of this season’s Drag Race, and not one of them expressed shame or embarrassment about their size. Sure, there were “fat jokes” and occasional quips regarding a girls’ size, but it never felt malicious or mean-spirited. It is wholly unlike nearly every season of ANTM when the one big girl is bullied into omitting a post-challenge snack because you have to work that much harder. There is also just an overwhelming sense of Do You with these ladies. You want to be the fishy beauty queen? You want to be the total weirdo with a blood fetish and trademark creepy eyes? You want to be the Puerto Rican Princess? Do. You. Miss Ru ends every episode with, If you can’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna’ love somebody else? And that’s just it. The Queens on Drag Race embrace themselves - all of themselves - and work the shit out of it. No apologies. That’s how we should all be living our lives.

Sisterhood and Community

The reason why the “fat jokes” don’t feel malicious at all is due in large part to the sense of sisterhood that these ladies seem to have. You know how there’s that one name your family can call you, but if anyone else dare say it to your face, oh heeeellll naaahhh? It’s like that. What’s sad is that it’s so easy to think that if you put a group of gay men and drag queens in a house together to compete for $100,000, weaves will be flyin’ and duct tape and bobby pins will be stolen. That isn’t to say that there haven’t been any fights. There have been. But they are overshadowed by the scenes of them chatting about growing up, coming out, being accepted (or not) by their families, and their respective drag families - all conversations in which they so often address one another as mama or sister and end with hugs or loving pats on the back. Not to be a little bitch about it, but I could use more friendships like that. Most of us could.

Let’s try to take more cues from our drag queen friends and we can all live our best lives.

Now, good luck. And don’t fuck it up.