Is Sasha Velour in Danger?

Since Sasha Velour won RuPaul’s Drag Race with her spectacular rose-petal lip sync, she has been thriving in Brooklyn with her partner, Johnny Velour, and her Italian greyhound, Vanya. She wrote and illustrated The Big Reveal: An Illustrated Manifesto of Drag, drew a New Yorker cover, and sells out almost every show of her New York revue, NightGowns. So why is she bothering to take her act down to Murfreesboro, Tennessee, and Bartlesville, Oklahoma?

In this episode of Radio Atlantic, we talk to Velour about this season of her HBO reality show, We’re Here. In structure, the show works more or less like Queer Eye. Velour and a duo of queens travel to a small town to meet with locals who need their help. But the mood is less fairy dust and glitter and more dirt and danger. People yell “faggot” at them from cars and tell them they are sinners. One man compares them to Jeffrey Dahmer. When they coax the locals to be open and proud, it feels both redemptive and dangerous. (What will happen to these people after the cameras leave?)

We’re in a moment when drag is both beloved and reviled, a powerful cultural force and also a target. Velour, an amateur historian of drag, has seen this moment before. We talk about what she’s looking for in Murfreesboro, and she reveals the essential truth about drag, hidden in the show’s title.

Listen to the conversation here:

The following is a transcript of the episode:

Hanna Rosin: This is Radio Atlantic. I’m Hanna Rosin.

I’ve watched RuPaul’s Drag Race since the beginning, when the set looked like cable-access TV and the queens’ costumes were very homespun. I still watch now, nearly 15 years later, and some of the costumes cost tens of thousands of dollars because they’re either made by famous designers or they are covered in Swarovski crystals.

The point is: I have this lazy impression that drag has made it not just to the mainstream, but to the cultural center. But actually, there’s this whole other universe in this country where that is definitely not true.

Rosin: That law was eventually struck down by a federal judge. But dozens of other states are introducing different varieties of laws that effectively ban drag.

So when I saw that Sasha Velour, who happens to be my favorite RuPaul winner—she won Season 9 with the most spectacular lip sync. Anyway, when I saw that Sasha and other former contestants were putting on a drag show for HBO in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, I thought, What are they doing there?

[Music]

Rosin: Sasha Velour is an author, a cartoonist, a theater director, a scholar. And she’s also one of the co-hosts of We’re Here, which is now in its fourth season.

On the show, Sasha and her crew recruit and mentor local residents—who they refer to as their “drag daughters”—and they put on a drag show for the town. But this season feels very different because of what’s happening on the ground in places like Murfreesboro.

Rosin: A town where officials denied Pride permits after they determined that a past drag show constituted “illegal sexualization of kids.”

Rosin: During the show, there are makeovers, there are tears, there are many things that are fabulous and iconic. But this season the reality show is giving a lot more reality.

Rosin: I know, intellectually, that you have cameramen there, and that you guys are protected, but the situations you are putting yourselves in are not—I mean, they seem fraught, genuinely fraught.

Velour: They were genuinely fraught. And there’s, of course, a moment when filming is wrapped that you’re like, Oh, I’m just here alone in a car by myself now. And, of course, we have many resources. And a privilege came with that—that the people we were talking to, the stories we were hearing, they don’t have a team of 10 people checking in on them.

Rosin: Right.

Velour: That would make it easier to be bolder. And so that’s why we felt we really had to be.

Rosin: Right, right. Okay. Now, when I watch shows like this, you know, you have fabulous queer people show up at a town and spread fairy dust—that’s a kind of show. That’s maybe the structure of the show, but the feeling of it, especially this season, is like watching a documentary.

Rosin: There’s someone who just yells in your face, You’re a man dressed as a woman, compares you to Jeffrey Dahmer.

Rosin: Why court this kind of conflict?

Velour: I don’t know that that particular voice needs to be platformed or shown. I think there was some hope that maybe, in conversation, there would be a give-and-take of questioning. But it really did just become us asking questions of these people, trying to unpack where they get the information for these lies and these myths about queer people, where they got this information for these lies and myths about straight people and cisgender people, too, because it was all so narrow, and claiming science defends their point of view when I think it’s actually just the opposite, in reality.

Rosin: Yeah.

Rosin: That was the reality, I mean, especially because there was a child there and a father there. And I thought it was—again, it has a documentary feel, like you’re walking into a city council meeting, and you’re kind of in for it in all your regalia. And so you knew it was coming. I just—it was an interesting choice. It did display something that is real.

Velour: Maybe I assume too much good intentions from people, but I really hoped that some of those fears that they were expressing came from not having had the opportunity to speak to queer people, and that us being willing to talk to them was going to move the needle. But we really couldn’t find common ground.

But I want us to unify. I think queer people are allies to the straight community, as well, and that what we stand for should make the world a more free place for everyone, including that man and his daughter. It’s sad to be rejected by people who don’t know anything about you. But that is the reality that we’re trying to show.

Rosin: Yeah. That moment stuck out with me because it was painful. It wasn’t necessarily cathartic. In the Queer Eye template, you know, everyone’s supposed to be crying at the end of that interaction, and that definitely didn’t happen.

Velour: Right. I didn’t think about that. I guess it’s a success, then, to show that not everything has an easy resolution.

Rosin: Totally. Totally.

Velour: We very much found that. The people who are willing to grow, can grow exponentially. And those who can’t, you may just have to move on.

Rosin: You know, you are an incredibly multitalented artist, one of the most successful, creative drag queens of the RuPaul era. Why leave Brooklyn—

Velour: Still hustling to make it happen, in my mind. But it feels like nothing’s a guarantee, but I really appreciate that encouragement.

Rosin: And may you hustle forever because you are a font of just constant creativity. But why leave Brooklyn to put yourself in places where people effectively don’t believe in your right to exist, don’t speak your language? Why?

Velour: This stuff does happen in Brooklyn, too. I was just called a faggot not one week ago outside of my own house by someone passing on a bicycle. And even though there is such a warm reception for queer and trans people, for nonbinary expression on the streets of this city—and I feel safe here; I love it here—I wouldn’t be satisfied just staying in one place.

I love to travel and to get to spread the joy of drag all over the world. And this is the funny thing about being a drag artist: You go from having a thousand people scream your name—stand on their feet—and then 30 minutes later, you’re outside and someone is screaming at you for being visibly queer and could beat you up, or your life could be at risk.

And that dichotomy doesn’t always get shown. Sometimes it’s one or the other. But I think it’s the fact that it’s both at all times that is also part of why drag is the way it is, why we have this sense of humor but also this depth and darkness to what we put out there, why we feel like we have to be political—’cause we’re being politicized just by existing.

Rosin: Yeah. In addition to being a drag queen, I know you’re a historian of drag. So maybe we get into this dichotomy.

Velour: Amateur, amateur. (Laughs.)

Rosin: Amateur historian. Amateur historian. So I feel like what you’re describing—this duality—is so intense right now, that you can create a bubble in which you’re fabulous, successful, make a living, and then another bubble where you are hated and rejected. And both of those are intensifying at the same time.

Velour: It’s really true.

Rosin: Like, five–10 years ago, this is when magazine covers announced drag has arrived, and drag queens have power, cultural influence, and they can make a living. And then there’s a spate of drag bans. Do you think of that—looking back at the history of drag—as a common thing? Like, rise, backlash, rise, backlash?

Velour: Yes. Absolutely. The greater the visibility for drag, but also for trans people. And it’s interesting that, I think, the visibility and acceptance for both our queer-made art form and all of our identities that have been suppressed for a while—those have been uplifted at the same time over the past 10 years in a way we’ve been delighted by, that it seems like culture is shifting and making space for us.

Rosin: And yet.

Velour: And the backlash feels like the last gasp of a dying opinion. But, unfortunately, they’re very organized and extremely well-funded. It was interesting on We’re Here, seeing how much money is behind the repression of trans rights and the drag bans. And often those people aren’t from the places that they’re showing up, but they’re putting on a performance of, This town doesn’t stand for that. Which strikes me as a kind of—

Rosin: Drag.

Velour: —hideous mirror to drag, where they’re trying to shut down on people’s freedom. They’re performing the most tired, basic lies. They’re insisting on a return to normal that they actually are inventing through erasing the real truth of our existence throughout time.

Rosin: How do you know that? Like, how do you know that people weren’t from the town or that there is money in it? How did that come up? Because I don’t remember it coming up in the show as a conversation. How did you come to learn that?

Velour: We went to the website of Jesus Warriors, I believe, or God Warriors.

There’s a couple that have similar names. And you can see how they take in donations. I guess I don’t know how much they really are able to take in, but it’s clear that it’s an organized effort.

When the biggest attention comes to places like my drag daughter, Veronica, in Murfreesboro, Tennessee—a clip of her literally just talking about her fake breast that she was wearing at a Pride show, which fell to the ground, which is something many of us have experienced. And it’s hard not to comment on it when it happens. But a clip of that went viral and got circulated on Facebook.

Velour: And that worked up people who don’t live in Tennessee to barrage the city council with requests to ban drag, which is why it ended up happening. And so it’s interesting seeing how these things are organized. And then in various places that have protesters, the people in the town say, We don’t know those people. A couple of them found out where they came from, and it was, like, two or three hours away.

Rosin: Interesting. Right, because Veronica talks about that and feels guilty about that, like it was her fault, somehow, that drag got banned from town because this thing happened to her.

Velour: Yeah, and it was something that, I think—they were looking for anything. And it’s just heartbreaking if someone feels responsible when they’ve done nothing wrong.

Rosin: Yeah.

Velour: And the logic is, Oh, you should have been quiet and censored yourself, and then we could exist. But we can’t exist if we have to live on those terms with all those conditions. We’ll never thrive.

Rosin: And the “we exist”—speaking of Veronica—the title We’re Here of the show, you know, the “we” could be, We, the fabulous queens, have arrived. We’re here. But watching the last season, I was thinking the “we” is actually the locals: We’ve always been here. We live here. We’re everywhere. We haven’t just arrived yesterday with some sort of wave of wokeness.

Is that some of the meaning? Is that why you—’cause it seems to raise up local queer people almost more than you guys, in a way.

Velour: That was my intention, at least. I never wanted it to be this sense of, The superheroes have arrived. That is not how I view drag.

Drag changes lives when it affects how you see yourself. And it’s not us changing the lives by showing up. We bring a stage that allows all these local heroes to activate their own powers to feel supported—which they so desperately need to really be bold—and to remind them to say exactly that, to remind them to say, We’re here, and stand up for themselves and for their community.

[Music]

Rosin: More with Sasha Velour after the break.

[Break]

Rosin: Are these worries—I don’t know if I should call them worries about the show, but I’m going to run them by you. Like, little things that come into my head when I watch.

Velour: I love to worry. So this is right up my alley.

Rosin: Okay. Excellent. We can worry together. So there’s a small part of me that resists this idea that the drag queens have to come to a town and put on a show, like that’s the only path to acceptance. I felt that in Oklahoma, like, Okay, we’re just going to go on the street corner and essentially busk and put on a show. Do you ever feel like that?

Velour: I mean, I love putting on a show, and it is my favorite thing in the world, so I never feel like I have to do that. I often am trying to get to perform, just because there’s something—we look for ways to disarm people who object to us. And entertaining is a classic way to do that. I resist it vehemently, but I’ve learned about the importance of comedy in softening people’s resistances.

And I think, ultimately, a show is definitely not enough to change minds. Like, a conversation and the human stories that I hope We’re Here really teases out alongside the performance is—that’s the whole picture. But sometimes a show is a good excuse for people to let down their walls and try something.

Rosin: Okay. All right. We’ve settled that one.

Another one: So you’re often going into these towns, and the push or the line is to be out and proud. I remember reading in your book that when you did your Fulbright in Russia, you talked about two camps: There was the out-and-proud camp, and they were protected and a little more privileged. And then you had understanding for people who didn’t want to be out and proud, or that wasn’t the right path for them.

And I wonder if you’ve thought about that in these towns, because you can see that the local queer people are struggling with that very concept. Like, Is it safe to be out and proud? Should I be out and proud? Can I be out and proud? Can I just live my life? And I wonder how that plays out in those relationships.

Velour: Yeah, there are some people for whom being out is not the best option based on where they live. And, in my experience, in Russia, that group of activists were mainly more working class and risked losing their jobs and their houses if they were out. And framed that way, I did begin to see exactly what they meant.

And they were still finding ways to have community and to be out with themselves. But they couldn’t safely be out on the streets protesting, be waving a rainbow flag. So it would be interesting if We’re Here kind of explored a story like that.

But fundamentally, you know, we want people to live, and whatever you need to do to do that is correct.

Rosin: Yeah. Maybe this is the big question. What does it matter if there’s drag in Murfreesboro? I feel like America’s dividing in so, so, so, so, so many ways that why can’t I just say, Oh, go to Nashville and do your drag there? Do you know what I mean? Like, what does it matter that we have it everywhere?

Velour: I mean, at its heart, it is everywhere already. They have drag shows happening. People who don’t have the resources to travel to Nashville, for various reasons, want to be able to do the drag they’ve been doing for decades. And these bars are getting shut down. People are yielding to pressure.

It’s like as people are finding out how much queerness exists around them, they’re suddenly shutting it down. And that is a cycle that’s happened before. But in those moments, people were dressing up in their homes and wishing the world was different. So it’s kind of like: It’s always gonna be there, so why can’t we make a space for it?

Rosin: There was an era when I believed more strongly, like, If we all just knew each other, or we all just talked to each other. I have to fight much harder now to find that space in people—I really, really do—and to pass through a thing that makes them uncomfortable.

And I don’t know. So when I watched your season, I guess I was trying to decide, Is this confirming my pessimism, or is this a small ray of hope? And I wonder if you—and I haven’t decided—and I wonder if you have that, if you’re on that balance when you film it or you’re just a happy, hopeful person, so you go with the hope.

Velour: I have my moments of being very optimistic. It’s definitely a cliché that, Oh, human stories change everything. I want that to be true. We encounter a lot of people who did not want to hear stories that did not confirm what they already believed. And I’ve noticed, increasingly, it feels like people aren’t comfortable admitting that they could currently be wrong about something, being genuinely curious to learn new things.

So will anyone who doesn’t want to see drag queens in the world watch this show? I sure hope so. But I don’t know what it’s going to take. I think the examples are stories about how it happens within families.

Rosin: Yeah.

Velour: And someone like Veronica’s mother, who threw her child out because of what her church was saying and what her community was saying about queer people and then realized that didn’t make sense to her. And they’ve slowly built their relationship back, and she’s grown to accept gay people and accept queer people on some level and certainly accept her child’s love of drag. So that gives me a lot of hope. That’s someone who’s changed their mind, and I think that if—it could be possible for anyone.

Rosin: You know, watching your show with a friend, I’m so used to RuPaul world. And watching so much RuPaul, you can easily forget that there are lots of places in this country and many countries around the world where it’s not like that. Like, there isn’t a cultural renaissance of drag queens. And I did have the thought, Wow, RuPaul has maybe saved hundreds of lives. I forget that this element of visibility— the out and proud—it does have a safety element to it.

Velour: Yeah, it does. And the show Drag Race has reached so many people and just normalizes the existence. And the fact that there’s been so many seasons, so many drag artists, all with different styles, that’s probably been the biggest shift in drag of all time. And for people, I was thinking about my drag daughter Jess, in Oklahoma, who said, It was the first time I had thought queer people are beautiful. And seeing that on television really did something profound for her.

Rosin: Yeah.

Velour: And I was like, Wow. I don’t know that that’s everyone’s take watching Drag Race, but maybe that is something. That is a new idea that we are helping to share.

[Music]

Rosin: This episode of Radio Atlantic was produced by Jinae West. It was edited by Claudine Ebeid, fact-checked by Sam Fentress, and engineered by Rob Smierciak. Claudine Ebeid is the executive producer of Atlantic audio, and Andrea Valdez is our managing editor.

If you want more Sasha Velour, you can see her new play this summer. It’s called Velour: A Drag Spectacular.

I’m Hanna Rosin. Thank you for listening.