Most who read this blog know me personally and the people that I surround myself with. The very colorful people I surround myself with.
Any given Friday night I can be seen surrounded by 7 foot tall statues of charisma, uniqueness, and talent (and all the foundation needed to cover full body razor burn). Drag queens are called drag queens because of the elevated confidence gained from those 7 inch stilettos they dawn. They tower over the rest of us in body and thus in spirit. They are queens because they dare to be. Which brings me to the one queen I know who has gained the most from the height in those heels.
I was brought into this world as a half to a whole that has to be the greatest balancing act God ever put through a vagina. I'm a hypercritical, Pinot Noir guzzling, full time nurse, that loves my dog because of his dumb expressions. My twin brother, on the other hand, is a brazen flamboyant for a living, who hates to be criticized, drinks straight vodka, and loves his cat because of her sassy expressions. We often get mistaken for one another but enjoy most the things that make us different. In school we never achieved in the same areas. He was good in math and I did well with science, he got the good roles in plays and I've done my fair share of musicals. That being said, it should not surprise you that we excelled differently when it came to coming out too.
I can't be sure if it was the air of self-assurance I felt having Micah by my side or something with in myself, but I've never felt too ashamed of my attraction to men. I actually thought it made me cool in high school. Being upfront about what made me different, somehow beat everyone else to the punch line.
I came out when I was a Sophomore and never looked back. So when my strong, fun loving, life of the party twin brother continued to date girls into college, I have never felt more incredibly sad. He was trapped in his own self-hate he couldn't see what the world saw......he was gay too.
Micah went away to college, while I stayed back and went near home (reiterating my assessment of our personality differences). Being the first time we were that far apart, I became obsessed with getting to the bottom of the "gay thing" when we occasionally saw each other. I would ask him leading questions and follow his every move on social media, truly overturning every stone and Facebook post. That is until the faith filled moment I got the break I needed. One night while back home, Micah left his journal out in the open in the living room. At first I resolved myself to being a good person and respecting boundaries, and then I remembered I'm not great with boundaries and cracked it open anyways.
For the most part I was disappointed, his life at college seemed vanilla enough. Then I turned one page and saw it. The one confirmation I needed. No it didn't spell out his love for a man at school or even spell out the word gay. But on that page was the one word I needed to know that Micah was alive in the one area of life I have never heard him talk about, on this page was the one word that spelled out the struggle of man denying who he actually was, on the page written in black ink over 100 times in dark, savage letters was the word that had haunted my brother everyday "sex...Sex..SexSexSexSEXSEXSEX."
Fast forward to now. Since that day my brother and I have both fallen in and out of love with men. Micah eventually quietly came out, much to his friends excitement, and started dating, much to my excitement. It wasn't until a few years ago, thanks to one of these guys, that I think I really met my twin brother. My brother, the surprise prude, started dating a drag queen.
The relationship fizzed out quickly, but the large, glittery byproduct remains. Micah hadn't fell for the man, but fell for the man's high heels. And love was born.
I remember the first time I met Goldie. She opened the curtain at our favorite lesbian bar, with disco music blaring and unleashed the courage and confidence my twin brother had been hiding from the world. Micah has never been more himself than when he is dressed as someone else.
On stage, Goldie's lips move while Aretha wails and Lady Gaga croons. She dances on the laps of guys she doesn't know and twirls the dance floor down. She is the main vein of a party and breathes life into dive bars in which she towers a foot over the audience. The charisma Goldie excretes spreads the room like an infection, and the only cure is more.
That first night parlayed into more performances and more bars and even her own show on occasion. But it also parlayed into Micah the boy.
Goldie saved Micah. He is still the funniest guy in the room, but this time he's in on it. He commands our guttural laughs like Goldie demands applause. They have become one person, the other half to my whole. And now sex isn't just a shame filled word sprawled on the pages of my twin's secret life but a word spoken with the utmost ownership. Goldie and Micah are the pluck, daring, and grit we always wanted them to be.
They are queens(both of them) because they dare to be.