Butch.
Queen.
Faggot.
Sissy.
Hey, yo—no homo, no homo, no homo.
Tranny.
Queer.
Freak.
These are all words that have been used
to describe someone who looks like me.
What does it mean to move in a way that’s masculine or feminine?
More importantly, where are these codes coming from that tell us how to be male or female?
When I first moved to New York City, I was always hanging down on Christopher Street
for a lot of reasons. I'll specifically list two.
(audience laughs)
One was that I had this deep spiritual connection with the history of Christopher Street, right?
The gay civil rights movement.
There were so many ghosts that I was wanting to meet and encounter—
trans women of color like Sylvia Rivera, Marsha P. Johnson.
And two, I saw myself reflected in the people that were on Christopher Street:
Trans, queer, LGBTQIA people of color.
The voguers, the street queens, the pier queens, the ballroom queens,
the House of Xtravaganza, House of Ninja.
Now, I didn't know them. And they didn't know me.
But we did know each other. We were able to see each other.
And I would find myself down on Christopher Street twice a year.
There were two times a year that I would just love being down on Christopher Street.
One was Halloween and the other one was Gay Pride—parade, you know?
And I just loved to—it was a really exciting time because
I was able to encounter drag queens, and kings, and people
that I’d never seen in my life before. There was like a plethora of drag.
And year after year, I would become more envious and jealous
of these people, because drag was something that I’d wanted
to do, but I didn't know how.
Until one year, I said, “Fuck it.”
I decided that I was gonna go from behind the camera
(audience laughs)
to in front of the camera.
So I called up all my friends,
and I created my very own glam squad.
And a really good friend of mine, he's a celebrity hairstylist—
and I had him make me this fierce wig,
which he asked back later after Halloween was over.
(audience laughs)
And I had a group of friends take me to H&M, and I bought this jersey, polyester,
cotton-blend, stretch dress
that had a turtleneck to cover up my Adam's apple.
It had these long sleeves, and it was gray,
and it had these pleats that went all the way around it.
And then, I had finally gotten up enough courage to go to Payless, and
I bought my first pair of red and patent-leather pumps.
And somehow, I made my way down to Christopher Street for the Halloween parade—
It was so bad!
It was so bad, so bad.
I like had on maybe foundation, like a lipstick, and like mascara,
and I thought I was like doing it!
And I’m walking down Christopher Street— more like stumbling because I didn't know
At the end of the night, my feet were like all bloody,
and bruised, and—I don't know how you women do it, right?
And as I’m stumbling down Christopher Street,
I could start to hear some queens be like, “Yes, mama!”
“Girl, you better work!”
“Yes, honey! You better do it! Honey, own it!”
“Yas, queeny! Yaaas!”
Who are they talking to?
(audience laughs)
And then I like had this moment, right? Like, “Holy shit! They saw me.”
They saw something in me that I didn't see in myself.
And that was the moment where I was like,
“Oh my gosh, I'm a motherfucking drag queen!!!”
You know what? There’s this—Leigh Bowery, he sings this song that I love:
♪ Like you just stepped out of the salon. ♪
♪ Like you just stepped out of a salon. ♪
♪ Like you just stepped out of the salon. ♪
How should a man be?
Hell if I know, right?
I mean, I think it's a question that obviously needs to be addressed.
I think we're at a place now where people who are being visible and brave—
I think that level of visibility creates awareness,
which creates conversation, which then gives us the ability
to have vocabulary to sort of identify feelings, thoughts.
Sort of a life hack for how a man should be for myself was doing drag.
I was able to sort of undo all of these institutionalized ways
that I was taught to be a man.
So whether that was in church, or whether that was my father.
Or whether that was in the world of theater and dance that says,
“Men have to dance this way. You have to take these classes. You have to partner with a woman this way.”
And in theater that says, “No, you can't sing this song, or
you can't be too effeminate. You can't be ‘too light in the loafers.’”
I think those things allowed me to dictate my own path as “how a man should be.”
And doing drag and being in queer spaces
gave me the confidence face the world, eventually.
It was very compartmentalized at first:
That I could only be Francesca doing drag on a stage.
I wasn't able to walk down the street, and get my groceries in a dress.
And I realized after a while that me being able to exist
in the world as a gender nonconforming person
is not always met with tips, and dollar bills, and “Yas, bitch! Yes.”
Many times, it's almost—
I've almost been brutally attacked for it.
There was one time where I was newly going out in drag,
getting my best life, turning the party in the gay ghettos, and I said,
“Why not? Why can't I be able take all this glitter, and walk down the street where I live?”
You know drag is expensive—right?
So I had to find some budgetary cuts in my money situation if I was gonna go out
in drag this night.
So OK—so I’m not gonna take a cab. I'll just walk to the subway.
About a 15 minute walk. Probably about 3 minutes in—car starts following me.
You know Francesca, she’s— you know, she's cute.
And when I've been approached by men who might be interested in Francesca,
I just sort of play it off.
That's not what doing drag is for me,
or being gender nonconforming.
They're not associated with one another.
And a car starts to follow me, and I keep walking. I play it off.
I look at this car as I go down the street, and it's full of guys.
And they start screaming,
“You fucking fag! Get the fuck out of our neighborhood!!
I thought I was gonna die.
Literally, there was nowhere to run— like I didn't know what to do.
So eventually, I ran and I found shelter.
After I sort of figured out that I was safe, I had to make this decision:
Was I gonna get this cab to take me home,
or was I gonna go out?
And I decided that I was gonna go out.
I wasn't going to let the world dictate how I could live my life.
That moment was bigger than myself.
I was making a declaration that I was gonna be me at whatever cost.
Obviously, safety first.
I do take a cab to the subway now.
But that was sort of a moment for me, you know?
How should a man be?
I don't know.
I don't think I can really answer that.
I think my approach to that question is “how should I be?”
How can I exist in the world in the way that I need to?
Not be someone else.
A lot of parts of myself make a lot of people uncomfortable.
Not my problem.
So doing drag has allowed me to have a lot of self-confidence.
It started off in queer spaces, and I've been able
to take that confidence that I got from being
in those spaces, and take it to the streets.
And yes, it's not something that's always met with rainbows and double kisses.
But what other way is there for me to be?
So I guess that is my response to “how should a man be?”
(applause)