Bring Me (And Shoved By A Drag Queen!) by Michaela

Bring Me (And Shoved By A Drag Queen!) by Michaela - August 2021 Scholarship Essay

Have you ever been shoved by a drag queen? 
 
No really, have you? I’d like to know if my experience is universal. Maybe it’s something like a coming-of-age-story, except I don’t think that they’d add that type of thing in your average Disney movie. 
 
My being is rooted in the summers of upstate New York. I lived in a very conservative town where, if you didn’t agree with the town’s views, you were kicked to the curb. It was a place where people like me got second looks on playgrounds, where my short hair was challenged for not being feminine enough, where it was weird that I played sports and read books like The Color Purple and Boy Meets Boy (books I still admire and reread to this day). It was a childhood driving past the few LGBTQ+ celebrations in silence, feeling my father’s cold gaze reflected in the side mirror, as if challenging me to say something about it.

Alongside that, I am the child of a Domestic violence survivor. I saw a lot of things that no one should have to. I often had to fall asleep on a couch that constantly smelled like alcohol - a scent so deeply ingrained due to constant exposure that it never truly washed out. As a result of this upbringing, I was a quiet kid that was terrified to speak up. I always had troubled expressing myself and showing emotion in ways that other people could. Despite this feeling and because I was a queer woman in a world just starting to accept LGBTQ+ individuals, I had always wanted to contribute to the community, I just didn’t know how. Then I moved to NYC, where that community was bigger than I ever imagined. 
 
I remember the day of Pride 2016. It was insane. My vision was assaulted with color as I weaved my way through an ocean of people. Color bloomed from all sides in swirls of green, pink, blue, yellow, and red. It was nothing like the little drive-by celebrations I’d grown up with. Things were finally going to be different! This was my first step into the LGBTQ+ world, and my first contribution to something I had never had the chance to join before.
 
Then, I got shoved by a drag queen. 
 
And as I toppled to the ground, I realized something: if she wasn’t going to let anything stand in her way — including me — why couldn’t I be like that? It had never occurred to me that someone so outwardly part of the community could have that confidence. Why did I have to let people trample over me for just being me? I was tired of the days I spent watching pride celebrations in silence and the quiet oppression I faced. I looked at her, flags and glitter flying behind her like a superhero in a world dead-set against her, and as I got up from the ground, the world that had previously sent me tumbling down suddenly felt stable under my feet. I remembered what Nettie said in The Color Purple: “Don’t let them run over you. You got to fight.” I chose to do just that. 
 
That push (or shove, really) was what made me want to become an activist that the world could be proud of - that I could be proud of. It let me take my first step forward into the parade and into the community. It led me to realize there’s a “now” where you don’t need to hide or change yourself for society’s perception of normal. I had finally been introduced to a world where someone like me — a survivor — could establish my own standing and contribute! By deciding to be more honest with myself, I realized my desire to help others do the same. I threw myself into activist work, working with programs like Teens Take Charge and the NYCLU to help dismantle segregation within the Education system. I lead my school’s GSA club with pride, and was the leader of managing, creating, and facilitating my School’s Pride day — which was a huge success!

I know what it’s like to be pushed aside (literally and figuratively!) and that you’ll never find beauty in a world you’ve come to hate. As a result, I aspire to help others find a place for themselves so that they can find that very same beauty for themselves.  
 
So, after all this, instead of asking ‘have you ever been shoved by a drag queen?’ maybe I should ask, ‘Well, do you want to be shoved by one?’