'I'm a Drag Queen Who Taught in Preschool—I'm Not a Groomer'

I've always been drawn to the queer scene. When I first started going to a lesbian bar, which happened to be the only one in Tennessee at the time, I discovered a night where female drag queens were performing.

It was a completely new experience for me because I used to think that drag was solely for men in dresses, and that if women wanted to do it, they would need to dress like men. But when I was introduced to the concept of female drag, it captivated me.

Even though I am perceived as a woman, I never truly felt like one. I never really understood the concept of gender, my relationship with it has always been sarcastic, and I struggled to grasp it, which is why I identify as non-binary. When I discovered that there was an art form that allowed me to exaggerate the gender that people perceive me as, in the form of an artistic statement, I fell in love with it.

I was 21 years old when I performed drag for the first time in a bar that's sadly closed down now.

It was in 2015, and I felt free. I felt like I was in control of what people perceived me as in that moment when I was on stage—I was in control of the three to four minutes of music that I used for the story that I was trying to tell.

There are some amazing drag queens in the scene who have been incredibly supportive throughout my journey. In 2022, I participated in a competition called SISSI Nashville and won, which has helped me pay my bills through performing drag.

I was a preschool teacher for a long time, so this also opened doors for me to participate in activities such as Drag Queen Story Hour and Pride events where children's entertainment is needed. People know me in the scene, and they trust that I'm reliable, responsible, and able to create a safe and happy environment. I've truly found my niche—I've discovered what I'm good at and inserted myself into the queer community, making people aware of my capabilities. That's why people often reach out to me for specific engagements.

Most recently, for Pride, I led a craft activity where I made little paper plate shakers with children. We filled them with beans and let the kids paint them with pride colors, or any design they wanted. We added streamers to one end, and the kids had a blast dancing around with them. I also read stories to the children, sitting on a little blanket while they listened in their camp chairs.

I realized that sometimes, kids just want someone to chat to, especially someone who's sparkly like me. It's awesome. When I'm with them, they're all so happy, and it warms my heart. Their parents are incredibly sweet and welcoming too. It takes great parents to be so encouraging of their kids. It's truly wonderful.

I remember in one instance, a mom approached me and talked about their non-binary child. They shared how their child was facing difficulties in school, being bullied not only by students but also by teachers. It was disheartening to hear how they were affected, but the parent expressed their happiness in seeing their child at Pride surrounded by accepting and non-judgmental people. It's truly a beautiful thing to be part of an inclusive community where everyone can be themselves and thrive.

When I learned about the [Tennessee] anti-trans bill, it deeply saddened and scared me. We understand that the intentions behind these bills and the bans on drag are an attempt to intimidate queer individuals, pushing us back into the shadows and making us feel unwelcome in public life. It's sad and exhausting but we refuse to be defeated because we know there's a long journey ahead of us.

It seems that this legislation appears to be targeted at red states, possibly as a tactic to drive away blue voters and gain control over those states. I believe it's a fear tactic and we are fighting back, protesting and taking legal action.

Logically speaking, I do not think that the bill makes sense because the language within it is too broad and has been ruled as vague by judges. First off, we don't receive any tax dollars for elementary schools. Teachers have to pay for their own pencils, so it's impossible for them to afford a drag queen to perform at an elementary school. We only perform at venues where attendance is optional. Also, what we're doing is not illegal because it's already against the law to behave inappropriately in front of children. The existing laws make sense in this context. They aren't vague when it comes to protecting kids, and nobody is harming them.

The only children attending drag shows are those whose parents are part of the queer community or parents who actively choose to bring their kids along. No one is forcing anyone's kids to watch a drag show if they don't already want to or haven't given consent.

These arguments are riling up people who think we're trying to indoctrinate their kids at elementary schools. It's astonishing to see the comments flooding my Instagram every day. I wake up to five to 10 comments, calling me a groomer and accusing me of being inappropriate around kids. It's unbelievable. Who are they even listening to?

What's even scarier is that these people sometimes show up at drag events wearing masks, and carrying guns. It's genuinely terrifying. There was one incident in Knoxville where a group of neo-Nazis lined up outside a bar wearing ski masks. One guy was pacing in the front, acting like a drill sergeant, while a drag show was happening on the outdoor patio.

It sends shivers down my spine just thinking about it. I hope people can understand how scary it can be.

It's particularly unsettling because our community has experienced gun violence before. I'm at a loss for words on how we're supposed to respond to such situations. We want to stay strong and be a representation, especially as drag performers. But it's a tough position to be in. People point fingers and label us as pedophiles. I receive these accusations all over my Instagram, and it's disheartening.

My wife and I have a strong desire to have children of our own. I envision sharing my community's art form with them because, as a preschool teacher and a drag queen, I know how to bridge those worlds together. I'm not oblivious to what's appropriate for children. In fact, I have a deep understanding of it, probably more so than most people, thanks to the extensive training, classes, and countless hours I've dedicated to this field.

The thought of some individuals looking at who I am and what I do as a job and labeling me as a danger to children is worrying. It's terrifying to think that it might even hinder my ability to adopt or foster my own child. I find it difficult to comprehend why this has to be the case.

Drag is more than just cross-dressing—it represents breaking down the gender binary and challenging gender expectations for everybody. I fell in love with what drag means to the community and its true essence. Every single one of us, no matter what gender you are, especially queer people, should all be supporting each other. That's what drag is supposed to be. It's a celebration of queerness and community.

Adhara Bull is a drag queen from Tennessee. She is Nashville's former reigning Biggest SISSI after winning Glitz Productions Sissi Nashville cycle four. She has also placed first in two separate digital drag races during the pandemic. You can find her on TikTok here.

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

As told to Newsweek's associate editor, Carine Harb.

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