Queens of the Apocalypse

Chapter 3

FOREWORD

BY SISTER ROMA

Two hours. That’s the answer to the #1 question people ask me: “How long does it take you to do…all that?” Most people just nod and give an appreciative coo, while others are completely flabbergasted. “Two hours? Wow! That’s a long time!” Though, there are many who reply with “Two hours? Is that all? Your makeup is so perfect/beautiful/amazing” which, by the way, is the correct and perfect response. You see, the first thing you must know about all drag queens is this: we love compliments, flattery, and adoration. We don’t spend two hours in the mirror beating our mugs and agonizing over the perfect outfit and accessories to go unnoticed. I’m just going to admit it: I crave attention—and I get a lot of it. I mean, I’m not “The Most Photographed Nun In The World™” for nothing. I love interacting with people—it gives me life. I’ll never understand the occasional queen who gets all dolled up and goes out, then acts like a complete b***h. If you don’t like interacting with people, you’re wearing the wrong shoes, lady.

The second thing you must know about drag queens is that it takes balls to wear a dress. True, our balls may be tucked up and put away for future use, but trust me, our balls are huge. We are fearless, brave, and tough as nails. I will boldly go where no drag queen has ever gone before. I’ve spoken at national press conferences, flown on airplanes, shopped at Safeway, stumbled drunkenly through the Tenderloin at 4 a.m., and marched proudly in the first ever Fresno Pride Parade—all in high drag. And if you’ve ever been to Fresno, I don’t have to tell you which was scarier.

The Fresno chapter of the KKK was out in full force, complete with their “God Hates Fags” signs and six year old children flipping us the bird. They were almost as hateful and scary as the right-wing Christians protesting at the National March on Washington in 1994. Now there’s the face of evil. But this is America, so both the KKK and the Fundamentalists have a right to their opinion; they have just as much right to protest as we do to celebrate. Don’t worry, I know that most of those people are bat-s**t crazy, but, to be completely honest, I admire their conviction. They believe they’re right and I’m wrong just as much as I KNOW that I’m right and they’re wrong. I take a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that I’ve enraged, shocked, and pissed off a group of close-minded, homophobic bigots. Those are the people who need to see me and hear what I have to say, goddammit. And, yes, in case you can’t tell, I’m a bit of an activist, so having such huge balls comes in really handy.

Here’s another thing you should know about drag queens: don’t call us by our boy name when we’re in drag. Don’t call a drag queen or anyone who presents themselves as female ‘him’ or ‘he’ or ‘sir’ or ‘man’. It’s rude. In public, it’s pretentious to attempt to show familiarity with a drag queen by letting others know that you know her ‘real’ name. To be honest, my given name is rarely used by me or anyone else. If you ask me my name, I’ll tell you it’s Roma; that’s the name I chose and I’m proud of it. Everyone calls me Roma, especially my closest friends. Even friends from high school and some family members who knew me long before I did drag call me Roma, whether I’m in drag or not. It doesn’t get any more real than that.

The fourth thing you should know about drag queens is very important: we don’t hate women. In fact, quite the contrary. Drag is an homage—a tribute—to women and all things female and feminine. If drag queens didn’t respect women, we’d dress like a member of the Texas Senate, not a smoking-hot member of the p***y Cat Dolls.

Just for the record, I’m not making fun of nuns either. I am a nun. The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence ARE nuns. We minister to our community, we educate, we protect, we fundraise, we feed the hungry, we care for the sick, and we provide spiritual enlightenment. Each of us takes a vow to “expiate stigmatic guilt and promulgate universal joy”—and we look fabulous doing it. The organization was founded on Easter Sunday in 1979 and remains one of the most controversial and iconic LGBT organizations ever devised. Among other things, the Sisters have always been on the front lines in the battle against HIV/AIDS, focusing on education and raising funds for organizations that provide practical care to the community. The Sisters were the first group ever to produce a safer-s*x pamphlet called Playfair (which continues to be updated and reprinted today), and the first group ever to produce an AIDS fundraiser: a dog show at the Castro Theatre hosted by Shirley MacLaine. I’m very proud to be one of the longest standing, continuously active, and most recognizable members of the Order. That being said, if someone had told me that one day I’d be a drag queen who dressed like a nun, I would have thought they had certainly lost their damn mind. Who had ever heard of such a thing?

I discovered the Sisters and drag at the same time, and it was quite by accident. I moved to San Francisco to escape the oppression and banality of Grand Rapids, Michigan immediately upon graduation from college in 1985. (This brings us to the fifth thing you should know about drag queens: never ask us our age. Most of us will give you the age we hope to be perceived by others. I will give you the number of years I’ve been doing drag, which is 26. I’m dreading turning the “big 3-0,” but I digress.) I was your atypical gay twenty-something living the dream in a new city. I had my own place, a decent job, and I believed the whole world revolved around me. I was out to get made, paid, and laid. I had a wonderful social circle of similarly self-centered but amicable upwardly mobile homos with whom I spent many a happy hour boozing it up in the Castro. One evening after work, I was standing in the middle of the Midnight Sun dressed in my pinstripe button-down shirt and power tie, swilling two-for-one cocktails, and laughing at a clip from Designing Women. Suddenly the front door flew open and in sashayed Sister Luscious Lashes—and my life changed forever. Now mind you, I had never heard of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, I had never known a drag queen personally, and I certainly had never been in drag or even considered it. So you can imagine my utter shock when this queen walked right up to me and said “Hello, Michael” (oh-oh, I just told you my given name. Don’t ever use it.) It turns out that Sister Luscious happened to be one of my best friends that, until that moment, I had only known as Norman Schrader. Norman was a bartender in the Fillmore (back when there used to be gay bars on Fillmore Street) and one of my best drinking buddies. Norman told me about the Sisters and persuaded me to volunteer at different events with the group, but I always remained in my civilian clothing. That is until one fateful Sunday afternoon when we were getting ready to go to root for the S.F. Eagle’s gay softball team, and Norman casually suggested that I just “try the makeup.” As it turned out, makeup was like my heroine. All it took was once, and I was 100% hooked.

Aside from discovering a deep, deep love for makeup and drag, the most earth-shattering change in me was on the inside. The Sisters awakened in me a deep sense of love for my community and mankind. They turned my focus from my hair to the injustices and hypocrisies of the world. I was impressed by the accomplishments of the Order, which at the time was just really about six or seven active members, and by the impact this handful of passionate people was having on society and the world. I realized that was passionate and even compassionate and that I wanted to be a part of it. I decided that I wanted to join the Order so that my life would not have been in vain. I want people to say that the world is a better place because I was in it.

There is a lot of power in drag. Drag has been my tool, and Sister Roma has been my vehicle to create change, to bring joy, to expand people’s minds, to make a difference. My, that sounds terribly lofty. Don’t get me wrong, I do it for a lot of other reasons too—like to get d**k. Yes, there are guys who are into s*x with drag queens. (This may be the sixth thing you should know—whether you want to or not.) I also do it so I don’t have to pay for drinks, wait in line, or pay a cover charge. Actually, these are all perks (even the d**k), but it doesn’t hurt.

It might be important to realize that not all drag queens get the same treatment, though. I’ve achieved full-on rock-star status. Not gonna lie. People know me. But the newer queens, they don’t have it so easy. Just like Joan Rivers playing a dive bar in Omaha, a drag queen must pay her dues.

This brings us to the seventh thing you must realize about drag queens: we wear many different hats. We are simultaneously the mothers, the sisters, the cheerleaders, the spokes models, and the scapegoats of the LGBT community—but above all else, we are entertainers. The first drag queen I ever saw perform was Odessa Brown at the Carousel bar in downtown Grand Rapids. She performed “And I Am Telling You,” Jennifer Holiday’s iconic showstopper from Dreamgirls. When that 400-pound black diva got on her knees and started pounding the stage screaming “and you, and you, and you, you’re gonna LOVE ME,” I did. I jumped to my feet and screamed and cried and threw dollar bills at her. She was a star, and I was starstruck in the truest sense of the word. Back in the day, that’s what drag queens were, local stars headlining at local dive bars, pouring their hearts and souls out for their local fans. Today, thanks to social media and the phenomenon of RuPaul’s Drag Race, drag queens are international superstars. Today’s top drag queens are world-famous moguls with their own brands (RuPaul, ChiChi LaRue); comic geniuses (Jackie Beat, Lady Bunny, Varla Jean Merman, CoCo Peru); and hard-working Hollywood actors (Willam Belli, Shangela). Drag queens are taking over the world, appearing at Pride celebrations, in nightclubs, and on TV and radio around the globe, from Hollywood to Dubai. Today, the sky’s the limit for a man in a dress!

So, c’mon, just “try the makeup.” And then get some fierceness tips from the queens in the hilarious pages that follow.

xoxo Roma