Call Me Mother: 4 drag queens discuss the love they have for their drag daughters

While Mother’s Day typically honors women who have given birth to, adopted, or raised kids, there’s another type of mother in the queer community that deserve recognition: drag mothers who raise their inexperienced young drag daughters to become truly dazzling and seasoned queens.

We spoke with three drag mothers from Dallas, Texas and one from New Orleans, Louisiana about their drag children, how they support them, and the effect it has had on their lives. Their responses show how lots of love can transform a misfit bunch of “chosen family” members into a band of creative activists who unapologetically strut their stuff while serving the larger LGBTQ+ community.

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(The following have been edited for length and clarity)

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DeManda Refund

My name is DeManda Refund and I have been performing as a drag queen since 2011. I would describe my style of drag as quirky, fun, brassy, classy, and sassy. I always tell people I’m not Highland Park, which is an affluent area here in Dallas, but I’m not trailer park.

How many children do I have? Too many to think! The last time I counted [it] was 13. Some I have acquired like a halfway house. Collectively we are called the Haus of Refund (HoR). But I like to call it DeManda’s House for Wayward Drag Queens.

[My drag daughters’] names are Aida Lott, Lisa Condo, SheBeata Piñata, Bea Dazzle, Betty SiSonnet, Trayla Parks, Ginni Beeeater, Shantae Morgan,  SheNida Lyft, Anita Tension, Carnie Asada, Madison Morgan, and I forgot the last one.  

You see, most of these kids’ drag started out of wanting to compete for [the Miss Big Thickette fundraiser for the Turtle Creek Chorale, a large local gay men’s chorus]. It’s held every year. I never had anybody teach me the ways of drag, so I learned to design and went along. However, I never wanted anyone else [to have to do it on their own]. So, being a mother just kind of evolved.  

Most [fundraisers we participate in] will be here in the Dallas area, but I do have one in Uvalde [a southwestern Texas town]. We still perform for our local drag troop, called Sisters in Action, at Hamburger Mary’s once a month for a local charity drag brunch, we choose a different LGBTQIA+ organization to highlight monthly. Since November 2017, we have raised close to $300k for local charities and organizations. 

When I started drag in 2011, I had no one to show me the ropes. It was for a fundraiser and they were basically, “Good luck, girl.” No one was particularly pleasant or helpful. It was a very intimidating experience. I never wanted anyone else to experience that.

[The chorale] has become very close to my heart. So after I won, the next year, I started recruiting contestants with the understanding that I would be there to help them as best I could. And from that point on, people just started calling me “mom.”  I still sing with the Turtle Creek Chorale, so a lot of these queens I see on a weekly basis. But other ones, I try to touch base with, either text or phone. 

I have helped my kids through weddings, divorces, drug addiction, serious bouts of depression, the list goes on. I think homosexuals are drawn to each other because we have shared experiences — experiences that our heterosexual counterparts just don’t understand. I think being a drag mother comes easy to me because I listen, I’m a confidant, people feel comfortable talking and opening up, and I do my best not to judge people’s circumstances but help them find resolutions. I’m also not afraid to have difficult conversations, conversations that put people back on the right track. But if anyone else speaks upon my children, I will unleash my inner Mama Bear. 

I kid with my drag children all the time. Usually, before they perform, I just say, “Try not to disappoint me this time.“ Honestly, they bring me so much pride and joy. The fact that they go out into the community and fund and bring awareness is probably one of the greatest joys and continuing our legacy. I think what I most proud is that they each have their own different personalities. They bring their unique spin to drag and their own vision of what beauty is.  

Shantae Morgan

My drag name is Shantae Morgan, and I have been performing as a drag queen in Dallas, Texas for eight years now. Shantaè is definitely a glam queen: She give you looks, body, face while belting out a good ballad or two.

I have three children, though our group of queens jokes that we have adopted all of our fledgling queens at some point. My children’s names are Alex de La Cruz, she has been performing roughly four years; Nippy Peakes for seven years; and Velma K. Lamour, my newest daughter, who just debuted her drag in February of this year.

I would definitely say that all of them take on some type of glam queen persona like their mother: Alexa is my dancer and will always have some type of dance performance, Nippy is my Whitney Houston lover — I mean every performance is Whitney — and Velma throws back a lot of her looks to Old Hollywood glamour and does a lot of Broadway-style songs.

All of us are singers in the Turtle Creek Chorale, one of the largest gay men’s choruses in the nation, which is how we all originally connected. We host a fundraiser in which new members can dress in drag and perform to raise money for travel to the Gala Chorus Festival that occurs every four years.

I would say that the process [of becoming a drag mother] is pretty organic in a lot of ways. Because many of the guys have seen us mothers in drag several times and our style, they tend to gravitate towards those that match a style they would like to emulate. From that moment, it’s a matter of taking them under your wing and starting to support each of them in developing their individual drag personas.

I would say that for me, personally, my motherhood [role] has been one of being an advisor, confidant, a resource, and so much more than you anticipate. Art and the making of art is an intimate experience, and the art of drag brings out so much of a person’s personality. It allows them to sometimes represent and project feelings and emotions that they may not otherwise feel comfortable expressing. Putting on drag sometimes is like putting on armor to be your strongest when you may not always feel it.

I’ve had many special moments with each child, but I would say one of my proudest was when Alexa performed a traditional dance that was part of her dual heritage. It was so beautiful and brought the audience to tears. I’ve had the pleasure of watching each of them come into their own and find themselves and what makes them truly unique and beautiful individuals. That’s something that will always bring me joy.

The Grand MAW

I am The Grand MAW (age 49), located in New Orleans, Louisiana. I have been performing off and on for over 30 years. I am a Drag Monster, meaning my performances are often dark, creepy, untraditional, and more horrific in nature than your average queen.

Currently I have two drag children (both drag kings): Frankie Fontaine (age 43) and Old Bones Morales (age 28). Frankie [does] more camp, comedic, lounge singer-style drag. Old Bones is more of a monster focusing on horror elements and nonbinary/gender-fluid style acts. Both live in New Orleans and have been doing drag for about two to three years. Previously in Asheville, North Carolina, I had three other drag children: Mistress Rivers (age 28), Priscilla Chambers (age 24), and Sanguine Storm (age 23). Sanguine is the only one from Asheville who I still advise and contact.

I met all of my children at shows, either those I was producing or those I was performing at. It is about 50/50 on me choosing them or them asking me to mother them. I see my current kids every few months, but we speak or message at least once a week, depending on gigs or situations. Mostly I offer performance and drag-related advice to my current boys. I do message Sanguine in Asheville semi-often, helping her with promotions and general creative advice regarding timing, song choices, and costuming.

In the current climate of more acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community and more awareness, the need to fill the void of parental roles has lessened I would say. In my experience, drag parents now help more with creative advice and connections to shows, producers, and gig opportunities than as much emotional support one might have gleaned in the ’80’s, ’90’s, or early 2000’s.

Granted, I still find that long conversations about love, life, jobs, or life circumstances do still happen. Being that ear to listen or shoulder to cry on — or person to vent at — can and does still happen. It depends on the child too. Much like a more traditional family, there are squabbles and distancing that can happen; be it due to location, proximity, or personal issues. Not every drag house or family gets along all the time. So yes, it can be hard when wedges come between you and your child or children. Like any parent dealing with a stubborn or “problematic” child, [it] can be emotionally trying for sure. But in the end, as drag parents, we are here for support and comfort and to help when able.

Pride comes in many forms and flavors, darling. I am proud of Priscilla for landing a spot on Dragula and watching her make it to the final three contestants, even though we had fallen out [and] she had disassociated from me at that time. Likewise, I am proud of Sanguine for now producing her own shows due to her struggles with confidence and her trans identity. More recently, I am very proud of  Old Bones Morales for getting seen and booked at so many places, due in part to the difficulties of both kings and monsters to be recognized as valid in the community.

Edna Jean Robinson

My name is Edna Jean Robinson (EJR), Goddess of the Trailer Park and I have a twin sister Elizabeth. EJR is the girl you’d like or need to pray for you, and Elizabeth is the gal you will get into trouble with.

I have four daughters: Jewel Tucker, a comedy drag artist who performed for charity and for the shock of it, lives in Rochester, New York now and is married with four children. [She] does not continue to perform.  He and his husband have a beautiful life in Rochester and boast a loving and supportive family.

Linda Lovelace Robinson (also known as Gloria Dean Robinson), is a young queen who was desperate to be taken seriously and yet wanted to give back with charity pursuits and an alter ego for the trailer park. Linda died in April of 2015.

Alana Robinson is a drag daughter who truly pursued to be a Robinson legacy by entering pageants [whose titles were] previously held by EJR. Alana performs on a want-to basis. [Her male self,] Larry the Fairy, has a full life in the community.

[Last, there’s] C**k Juggling Thunder C**t (CJTC) — or Diana Fire, as in “die in a fire” — a true activist.

Being an important figure in the drag community, I based my Motherhood on need and want. My daughters all needed the guidance and they wanted to be my drag daughter because they wanted to be a part of the Edna Jean Robinson aesthetic. That aesthetic is a duality of drag — a comedy charity and glamour gal angle with an importance [placed] on charity fundraising and community awareness and protection.

Jewel Tucker becoming my drag daughter happened a little organically as I put him in drag and helped dress his first couple of charity performances for an HIV fund. Whereas Linda and Alana came to me and asked me to be their mother.  Diana CJTC happened more out of support of his activism and my admiration of his hard work for our community.

I have supported [my daughters] with clothing… and teaching make-up techniques as I implored my daughters to be self-reliant. Rule number 1: Paint your own face. You can’t rely on anyone to paint you; you must do it yourself. [Rule number 2:] Be free to do what you want! Be pretty, be serious, be ugly, be shocking, be glamorous and most of all be good at it and have fun!

I have found that being a drag mother is being a mother. I mentor and have mentored them all. I talk to them all from time to time now that the world of performing is different for all of us. I am still called “mom” and get Mother’s Day greetings. We talk on text and on [Facebook] messenger. I was devastated by the death of Linda. I visited her every day in hospice and met his real mother. We shared our sadness together and both were there when he passed. I think of Linda every day.

Sharing his death with his biological mother taught me just how important I was to Linda. His biological mother knew how important I was and thanked me for being there for him when she couldn’t. She was my most needy child, from a dysfunctional family that needed my stability the most. She came to me admiring my place in the community and needed to belong to something. It was hard on her to learn basic skills. I hired a make-up artist to really help her learn to paint his face — fierce! I loaned him jewelry and bought him gowns (or rented them) for competitions.

He struggled with addiction issues, health, and basic lifestyle issues like rent and bills. He struggled all his life. He had a beautiful heart: Sweet Ray.

Linda Lovelace Robinson was crowned [in a drag pageant] wearing my jewels in talent and in gown — his only true win. He was very proud, and I was very proud of her. Linda impersonated Mary J. Blige in talent. She was always the underdog, but in this pageant: She was the winner!

I have always been proud to be a mentor, in and out of drag. Many kids, just having been kicked out of their family, came to the community looking for a “family” and finding a lot of us in the drag community and bar community taking them in and providing that much-needed family, love, and support. A lot of us did it often, and a lot of us did it without noticing we were doing it — because it was what we did and did so often. Maybe we saw ourselves in the lost, frightened child in front us, acting all big and strong. 

Alana Nicole Robinson was crowned Miss Miss’d America 15 years after I was crowned, performing a comedy talent and glamour in gown wearing a gown and crowning gown from my wardrobe. [She used] comedy in her performance: Make ’em laugh and cover their mouths in shock.

Diana Fire, CJTC is a true activist. We need them and rely on them — we always have and we always will! Her defiance and need to be defiant was my champion and pride in her. She is confident in the need to make a statement that we as a community will not go back or be denied.  I have always been in awe [of her].

Together, we have all helped each other. As a drag woman, I became a mother, an aspect of womanhood that also becomes a bit of a father as our lives become intersected and in our community. Often, our genders become a little blurry anyway, and as men, we call each other “girl,” and when in drag, we take our female gender seriously. We are women, I am mother and they are daughters! I have mentored some transgender [children] and drag kings but do not have any transgender or drag king children. 

Being a drag mother transcended drag and performance. We take on children in a parental form. We mentor both the male and the female, the in- and out-of-drag. We care for the drag daughter and the living male (or trans person). We help them with their performances and their bookings and their jewelry and we help them with their everyday lives and provide support when needed. And we as mothers call on them to help with talents and backup as well as in our daily lives. We become family, in and out of drag. As drag performers many take on children that do not perform but need a mentor or a mother in the community. We are a special group in our community. It is why, when there is a need or called upon… we step up first!

As my performance life has changed, I say all the time, I miss the people the most. I miss the family that was the Rose Room [a popular Dallas drag venue] and the daughters that I cultivated there, and I will always be their Mother, in and out of drag.

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