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Dealing with Shame can be a Drag

AnitaB&W - Copy
“We’re born naked… and the rest is drag.” — RuPaul
When I was nine years old, I took my parents’ album of the Broadway musical “Damn Yankees” and memorized every syllable of Gwen Verdon’s show stopper, “Who’s Got the Pain When They Do the Mambo?” Once I was satisfied with my lip-synching and choreography (I decided that a mambo was a dance in which young boys gyrated and flung themselves on and off the living room sofa), the number was ready for public display.

damn yankeesThe premiere was a simple affair, exclusive and unannounced. Mrs. May from across the street had stopped in for afternoon coffee, and opportunity knocked when Mother busied herself in the kitchen for a few minutes.

Not a smart move, Mother, leaving Mark alone with the company.

“Mrs. May, would you like to see me do a song?” The unsuspecting woman gave a polite “yes, that sounds nice” and before Mother could run interference I had turned on the stereo and dropped the needle at the precise moment where Gwen breaks into song.

Mrs. May stared and stared, her hands folded neatly in her lap, as I brought out every sashay, twist and thrust in my dancing arsenal. My moves may have been imperfect but I vocalized brilliantly, thanks to Gwen. As I struck my final pose, arms reaching for the heavens, frozen and triumphant, I saw mother standing in the doorway, holding a plate of cookies and breathing heavily through her nostrils.

Future performances would be limited to my bedroom, where I could conjure an audience cheering with acclamation and mothers wouldn’t put you on restriction.

It is that boy, the cheerful but feminine performer, that I always feared would creep out of me as I navigated young adulthood as a gay man. I worked to shed his characteristics, to replace every soft gesture with a wooden one, to embrace the gym and tank tops and Levi jeans with the same fervor I once had for my beloved Broadway musicals, with mixed success.

And then, a lifetime later, as I worked for an AIDS agency in Atlanta in the 90’s, destiny called. An upcoming drag contest to benefit our agency was suffering from poor participation, and my boss asked if I would consider entering.

Being a drag queen, even for a night, terrified and delighted me. But the performer in me won out, wouldn’t you know, and Anita Mann was born. I created an interactive video rendition of Donna Summer’s “This Time I Know It’s for Real,” (even then, long before this blog, I was toying with the possibilities of video) and won the contest.

Soon I was performing with “the camp drag queens of the south,” The Armorettes, who hosted a Sunday night show to raise funds for AIDS organizations. Over the years they have raised over $1 million dollars, and their show was a sellout every week. But my own phobic notions lingered.

I didn’t want to be known as a drag queen (“It’s comedy! I’m a performer!” I would insist). I never appeared anywhere in drag but on that stage – I would always get dressed at the show, and was often out of drag for the final curtain call, in a bid to display whatever masculine credentials I had to offer.

Anita Smoking smallI would hear other gay men make disparaging remarks about drag and I withered, unable to admit I was playing to a packed room every Sunday.

The nexus of shame and shamelessness is a complicated one. Each week I put on full display the very things about myself that I had worked so hard to reject – my femininity, my silly pursuit of acceptance through laughter and applause. And just as I gained confidence in what I was doing and why, I would lose a potential boyfriend when he learned of my weekend talents.

As a growing drug addiction encroached on my free time, I abandoned Anita Mann to its demands. For many years thereafter, Anita’s dress and wig would be relegated to a duffel bag hidden in the back of the hallway closet. I had found a vocation in drugs that offered twice the shame and every bit of the need to keep quiet about it.

It took a few years in recovery from my addiction before Anita would make her comeback. Armed with a TV set and a sense of the absurd, Anita performed at a benefit for those of us in recovery, in what may have been her finest hour. Her rendition of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore” grows more insane by the moment, and perfectly embodied my interest in multi-media performance.

And yes, I am aware that I speak of her in the third person. Maybe it is because I view her as a character I have created, and perhaps it is the remnants of shame, and of my need to keep her at a distance.

It’s strange, how those things about which we have drawn the most shame are also able to liberate us, not to mention help others. My HIV status. My drug addiction. My drag personality. As I have embraced each of these, I’ve found self-acceptance and a way to carry a message of hope, and even joy, to others.

Anita Mann limits her performances these days to recovery related engagements. It seems fitting that these two aspects of my life, both once secretive, have found their place together. Anita has a voice now as well, doing a sort of recovery stand-up and even singing live when the occasion permits.

Meanwhile, I still struggle with the need to project as much masculinity as I can muster. I swagger more than I sashay. I sport a beard when possible. And I work to maintain a strict gym regimen.

It’s important for me to stay in shape if I expect to fit in that dress.


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  1. Dana Diamond March 15, 2012 at 3:58 pm

    I thoroughly enjoyed this thanks for posting…was having a very stressful couple of weeks, months LOL at work

  2. James Allen March 15, 2012 at 4:34 pm

    I think this is a great topic. How you transferred the paralysis of shame into an act of transformation and celebration is one of the remarkable gifts of recovery. Not everyone has the gonads or the sense of humor to pull it off you have both. Super column Mark. Reflective and fun.

  3. Mommie Dammit March 15, 2012 at 6:14 pm

    Anita, dahling… does Mommie need to whip out a bitch-pump and beat you over the wig? I would offer to spank, but I know you enjoy it too much for there to be any reformative value… and I hate it when you leave my lap all sticky. You know how hard it is to get that stuff out of the sequins, dear. OK, so I’m a perv. I’m in excellent company!
    But you touch on something here that annoys my rubber tits no end. What the hell are you – or any queen – ashamed of? Worse, who’s the fucking moron that started the anti-drag queen crap within the LGBT community!?! As a 33 year veteran, I am appalled that we who have been on the front lines of every battle, we who have been the workhorses of every fundraising effort, we who have been the steel-stiletto’d demon pricking the collective gay conscience and helping the entire community laugh at our sorrows… oh damn. I’m on that stupid soapbox again. See what you do to me? Get’s my panties all in a bunch… now what did I do with my bon-bons and that pool boy?

  4. Joseph McLaughlin March 15, 2012 at 6:18 pm

    Mark – I loved the TV bit – thanks for sharing!

  5. Patrice Dickey March 15, 2012 at 7:30 pm

    Screamingly funny even the third time! You inspire me. Thank you, my friend.

  6. jt March 15, 2012 at 8:51 pm

    3 words….you know them Mz Mann!!!

    Thanks for sharing another experience & lesson in your life we all can learn from……
    Great seeing you at again at #15 ….. Loved your forum too.

  7. Rich in Boston March 16, 2012 at 7:24 am

    As usual Miss Thang, you touched on a very good point here. While I leave drag up to the professionals (don’t try this at home, I don’t have the talent) I am a huge supporter of the age old art form. From the mundane lip sync (not you Anita of course dear) to the most avant-garde “performance art”. It’s an incredible outlet of sexual and artistic expression in a world trapped in sexist gender roles … there I said it and I don’t care if it sounds like a thesis statement. Drag on Anita et al, I’ll be in first row screaming and laughing and yes critiquing (I’m a gay man it’s my birthright). Love you Mark xxoo R

  8. Sue March 17, 2012 at 9:24 am

    Love it.

  9. Donna Gore March 19, 2012 at 7:32 pm

    Thanks to Anita for the laughs. I’m dealing with a lot lately, and I really needed that right now. Laughter is the best medicine!

  10. Paula Kiger August 7, 2016 at 8:51 am

    My boss was told something by a client recently that ended up on her personal Facebook wall and our internal slack. So simple, yet so hard to do and so elusive to believe it’s what works … but it is: “Be more of you, it works way better.” And that “more” includes Anita for you. Well written.

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