I'm the First Drag Laureate—Performing Is More Dangerous Than Ever Before

When I was four or five years old, I saw Mary Poppins for the first time, and I asked my mother to buy me a dress, an umbrella and some high heels. She did, and from the moment I started clomping around the house in those shoes, drag became something special to me.

As I was growing up in California, I became interested in theater and wrote a number of plays and musicals. I found that I could harness a different kind of comedy and pathos when I was in drag. It resonated with me and with audiences, so I kept doing it.

In my mid-20s I was fascinated with drag, having fun and figuring it out. It didn't really click for me until I was living in New York in 2004 and I realized that I could truly make a living doing drag. I wrote a show I could star in called S*** and Champagne, which we performed in the Lower East Side in Manhattan for nine months in a burlesque club.

That's when drag transformed me into who I am as an artist, and really affected the trajectory of my career.

While there have always been people who are anti-drag or homophobic, in earlier days I don't remember feeling that drag was such a hotbed topic. I believe it wasn't as socially acceptable to be racist and homophobic as it is nowadays because people weren't emboldened by politicians like Donald Trump.

At that time, there was this joy of people being authentically themselves. These were the days leading up to TV shows like RuPaul's Drag Race exploding on television, there was a lot more lightness around it.

I remember a childhood where I was watching Flip Wilson and Milton Berle on prime time television. Life seemed very different. There was so much drag and burlesque in the North Beach area of San Francisco, which people from the Midwest would visit all the time. It was a huge tourist destination and drag wasn't viewed as odd at all.

When I moved back to San Francisco from New York I started doing shows at a bar on Valencia Street off Market. There weren't any other mid-size cabaret venues for touring drag artists in the city, so I started booking other drag artists for the space, which basically turned out to be a test run for operating my nightclub, Oasis.

When that bar closed, initial plans were to turn the site into condos, so myself and a couple of friends decided to open our own space. The community really rallied around us, because there hadn't been a space like that before in the city.

Drag became something I was living and breathing. I believe my club changed the landscape of drag in San Francisco, which I'm very proud of, and it continues to this day.

To me, drag is sparkly and fun. It's beautiful. But on an artistic level, I do feel it's also very significant. I've been asked many times, Why is drag important? And I ask people in return, Why is dance important? Or theater, fine art, and music? Like these, drag is an art form and a powerful tool, not disposable entertainment.

As an entertainer, I am often dismissed as fluff, as extra and not crucial or important. The art of drag is often considered trivial. However, the high glamor parody art that drag performers are making is on the same level as what is considered traditional theater.

The drag art form comes from a different perspective. At its essence, drag is a re-examining of societal norms under a microscope.

When you look closely at something it looks different, and when you see it in a different way you allow yourself to discover something new. We discover unique truths about ourselves and the world we live in through the lens of drag.

When talking about the climate of drag now, I believe that most of the population has no issue with it as an art form. But there is a small, loud, angry group that is using it as a platform to attempt to squash LGBTQ+ rights.

The criticism of events like Drag Queen Story Hour, which was created by a queer woman called Michelle Tea because she wanted a space for her children, is crazy to me.

Drag queens are popular because we're sparkly and fabulous. With so much makeup and wigs—put a red nose on us and we're almost no different than a clown—and clowns have been entertaining children for a very long time.

I have a friend who is a cisgendered woman that dresses up in drag and reads to children. People protest her and scream in her face that she is a groomer because she's wearing a sparkly dress, false eyelashes and a hairpiece. To me, that sounds like any reality television personality, but because they think she's a man dressed like that, they say it's terrible.

In 2004 I was invited to be part of the Gay Pride Parade. Purely celebrating, I felt so joyous. I took part in the parade again this past June, and was smiling and waving to the crowd, but in the back of my head I was thinking: Am I going to get shot?

We've always had security at my nightclub, but now we have to have four times as much coverage. We have to use a metal detector for people coming into the club, which seems crazy because we're all in a room filled with so much joy—but we have to protect ourselves.

On the positive side of things, I am seeing that drag has exploded into this incredible art form all around the world. It's really taken on a life of its own and some of these drag queens are viewed as rock stars.

There's a huge industry and economy around wigs, makeup, shoes and jewelry, which is amazing. When I first started doing drag, I didn't have access to the internet and had to drive 300 miles to the one store in LA that sold heels big enough for me—and my feet aren't even that big!

I could never find good enough eyelashes and would have to do all this crazy crafting; finding separate sets and sticking them all together like Dr. Frankenstein. Now there's thousands of different styles of eyelashes readily available. Having these tools within easy reach really does elevate the art of drag.

In the old days, we were jumping up onto a pool table or a makeshift stage cobbled together out of boxes. Now, we have all of this accessible tech: giant screens and catwalks. My nightclub/cabaret is specifically built to support drag.

I was caught off guard this year when I was asked to become San Francisco's first-ever Drag Laureate. There was no roadmap or blueprint for what this meant and what I was supposed to do. How fabulous to be the one to take the first step and make the position my own; be the first person to paint on the canvas. But there are a whole lot of colors and a giant canvas to cover.

It's been an amazing first couple of months. As the initial fervor around the appointment has subsided a little bit, there's an opportunity to do some real work and create some of the events, protocols and opportunities for the next Drag Laureate.

I spent these months speaking about why drag is important, and now I'd like to actually show why it is; show the potential of this role and its effects on both the LGBTQ+ community, but also on the community at large.

Because while I am an ambassador for my community, I also want to create bridges from this group to all other communities and institutions. I want to reach out to both our allies and people who perhaps aren't allies, and bring them joy.

Through the pandemic, people had to deal with incredibly difficult times, but it solidified my commitment to San Francisco and to the art form. During that period, myself and other performers really showed up for people and entertained them through a really dark time.

And I believe there's nothing more healing than laughing and forgetting your troubles, even if just for an hour—that's what our job was when things got really dark, and that is what our job continues to be.

I hate that drag has become so politicized, because I'm an artist first. It's exhausting to have these conversations over and over, but I'm resigned to the fact that this is what the rest of my life is going to look like. Because this isn't going away anytime soon; because I believe that homophobia, sexism and racism has been emboldened by our political landscape.

Of course it's difficult when it feels like people are trying to mute us, but in these times I feel our art does spring back up in glorious ways. In my eyes, if we can walk through the world a little more authentic—i.e. a little more fabulous—then we can't help but inspire those around us.

And if we can do that, then there's less room in their hearts and their minds for anger, hostility, violence and prejudice. We really can affect social change every day if we walk through the world with that perspective.

D'Arcy Drollinger is the owner and artistic director of San Francisco-based nightclub OASIS, and is the city's first-ever Drag Laureate.

All views expressed in this article are the author's own.

As told to Newsweek's My Turn associate editor, Monica Greep.

Do you have a unique experience or personal story to share? Email the My Turn team at myturn@newsweek.com.