Until around three months ago, everything I thought I knew about drag was stuck in the past.
From what I’d seen before, drag seemed theatrical, yes, but tragic. In “Hedwig and the Angry Inch,” poor, broken Hedwig was glamorous and sympathetic but ultimately unable to sustain even her own illusions, and the queens of Jennie Livingston’s “Paris Is Burning,” though raw and powerful, framed drag through the lens of survival and struggle. I couldn’t find a depiction of drag as something joyful or ongoing, but only as a tradition shaped by hardship, performed under pressure, and perhaps old-fashioned.
What I discovered in “RuPaul’s Drag Race,” though, struck me as so much more than that — it is a chaotic and emotionally charged spectacle that fuses performance, fashion, comedy and queer culture into pure electricity. Season 17, the beginning of my drag education, proved why the show remains such a cultural force — and why it continues to evolve, even as it leans on the same old tricks. The answer? Joy.
Season 17 contestant Onya Nurve, whose deadpan sarcasm and slightly villainous confessionals made her instantly memorable, is a perfect example of the show’s nuance and humanity. As viewers get to know Onya, they start to recognize her sharp understanding of drag as both armor and weapon: every look meticulously constructed, and every word delivered with the precision of someone who knows the power and joyfulness of playing a role. Suzie Toot, the season’s tap-dancing flapper and my personal favorite, is chaotic, unpredictable and just deeply weird — a reminder that drag doesn’t have to be pretty, or even particularly coherent, to be delightful. Even Joella, who walked the runway in a look so terrible it propelled her into meme-like infamy, had her moments of genuine vulnerability and heart, and brought a smile to my face on multiple occasions.
“Drag Race” has always walked a tightrope between sincerity and camp — and yes, at times, it stumbles. The format is well-worn, and moments of emotional authenticity can be undercut by heavy-handed editing or product placement, or covered in so much glitter and rhinestones that they become hard to see. But somehow, the show and its queens still deliver something very real: not just pageantry, but proof. Proof that drag is still evolving, still joyful, still personal — and still very much alive.
