At one o’clock in the morning at Kitty Su, an LGBTQIA+ friendly nightclub located on the 28th floor of the luxurious Lalit Hotel in Delhi, the night was lively. Commemorating the fourth anniversary of the decriminalization of IPC Section 377, the club hosted a queer party and drag show. Disco lights in the otherwise dimly lit club danced frantically, as did queer people partying on the floor. Everything in the room – hips, arms, feet, bodies, lights and music – danced to a universal rhythm that bounced and swayed shamelessly like subatomic particles racing in every possible direction, creating a miasma of color and body. Drag shows are festive gatherings, often hosted by nightclubs. Although its primary purpose is entertainment, it is also used as a self-expression and celebration of LGBTQIA+ pride. A typical drag show includes a drag queen with an elaborate outfit, hair and makeup, lip-syncing, or dancing to pop numbers.
Although the flamboyantly dressed queer crowd at Kitty Su looked engaged in partying, they were looking forward to the queens, and in particular Lush Monsoon’s performance. When she appeared, Monsoon wore sparkly makeup, a kimono-like dress, a large shimada-like wig, a pair of fancy glasses, and carried a Japanese mai-ougi fan. When Monsoon entered, her kimono sleeves fluttered and a multitude of cameramen with their heavy equipment followed her trail, all jostling in the crowd. Teya, a drag queen, wearing a silver blonde wig, who had already taken the stage, made an announcement asking guests to gather. The crowd accepted. “It’s a commemoration of our freedom, my friends,” she said enthusiastically into the microphone, as the crowd roared with excitement. “Four years ago, the fangs of section 377 were torn off! This night is for party people, let’s dance to death!
The lights on the floor flashed as the DJ took over, playing Beyonce’s track Freedom. Drag queen Betta Naan Stop was on stage, performing the act. “Freedom, let me go, sing… freedom, freedom…Where are you?” Betta lip-synced to Beyonce, slyly swaying her hips like a snake. The spellbound crowd danced.
Ayushmaan aka Lush Monsoon is a human rights lawyer by day and a drag queen by night. “I can never experiment and express my femininity as freely as on stage,” Monsoon says. Their sense of freedom is “closely tied” to flirting.
Although drag as an art form is not limited to gender and sexuality, and heterosexual performers also cross-dress, it hones an element of performance in which performers express the layers of identities to which they relate. . As such, drag is an integral part of the LGBTQIA+ community. “Drag is closely tied to homosexuality, because it’s about expressing something that society doesn’t conform to or considers taboo,” Monsoon explains.
Although drag as an art form is not limited to gender and sexuality, and heterosexual performers also cross dress, it hones an element of performance in which performers express the layers of identities to which they relate. report in society.
Monsoon believes India’s modern drag scene is somewhat inspired by the American ballroom culture of the late 1980s – an African-American and Latino LGBTQIA+ subculture that originated in New York City, where drag queens held their own events to stand up to the racism experienced in existing and established venues. landscapes.
For Monsoon, drag is a political art form. Along with peripheral environmental or structural politics, flirting also refers to personal politics. For example, many drag queens in India participate in LGBTQIA+ activism and have raised their voices against laws that have been regressive for the community. Additionally, on a personal level, the willingness and choice of drag performers to cross-dress, perform, and freely express their identity signifies action, in which the principles of personal politics come into play.
In India, being visibly queer – as in the case of drag performers – comes at a huge cost. Donning the clothes to express one’s feminine side, Monsoon says, is looked down upon. Although the drag performers’ struggle to assert their identity seems like a daunting task, drag nights in clubs give them hope. “These are spaces of joy and hope, where we build community,” Monsoon says of venues hosting drag parties in the capital.
Although drag provides a safe space for gay people, the venues where the shows are hosted are accessible to groups with social and financial privilege. “In developing countries like India,” says a gender studies researcher, “where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is sickening, such practices only cater to groups who are essentially elites”.
Nevertheless, drag elements are not new in India. Indian princely courts in medieval times had drag performers, and the culture also flourished in kothis. For decades, popular art forms like jatra and lavani have always had men playing the role of women. Traditional forms of performance art such as Lok Rang Nour of rural Punjab, have survived for many generations with extraordinary resilience. Kaniyan Koothu in Tamil Nadu and Launda Naach in Bihar are two examples of such art forms which are still in vogue. Cross-dressing, as much as defining drag requirements, was an important component of Indian culture before it fell victim to systematic stigma and contempt, particularly due to colonialism, Victorian morality, and the regressive regulations that came with it.
“Drag has always been an integral part of our history,” says Keshav Suri, the founder of Kitty Su. “However, colonial guilt marginalized the queer community and we fled our own culture,” he adds. “Drag is deeply rooted in the layers of diversity in Indian culture,” says internationally acclaimed drag queen Sushant Divgikar. “In our folk dances, men perform as women. The emperors’ courts had royal eunuchs,” adds Divgikar, whose name is RANI Ko-HE-Nur. “The colonial mentality doesn’t want to talk about our rich culture,” he adds.
Cross-dressing was an important component of Indian culture before it fell victim to stigma, particularly due to colonialism, Victorian morality, and the regressive regulations that came with it.
Other drag artists have taken inspiration from the West. Nitish Anand aka Shabnam was inspired by the American teen sitcom Hannah Montana, in which a teenager played by Miley Cyrus leads a double life: pop star Hannah Montana by night, student Miley Stewart by day. “I thought if Hannah could do it, why can’t I?” Another performance that inspires Anand is the character of Edna Turnblad played by John Travolta in hair spray. “Female characters played by cisgender men, like Travolta in hair sprayopened up new vistas for me,” Anand recalled, adding, “I had the revelation that I can change identities and appearances and express myself freely.
In Indian film and television too, references to drag performances have cropped up time and time again. Let it be Govinda’s Aunt #1by Kamal Hassan Chachi 420 or Guthi, the comic book character of Sunil Grover, they are full of references to flirt with. Says Anand, “We have to understand that these characters have often been portrayed to invite ridicule or evoke laughter. We need to de-stigmatize drag and avoid the self-deprecating humor that is used to titillate viewers.
“Drag is not just an art form or a means of self-expression. It is a tool through which we can educate the community, fight taboos and create a fabric that preaches freedom,” says Anand.
At Kitty Su’s, the party was getting happier and happier. Queens delivered scintillating performances, setting the stage for Monsoon. The film crew tried to find a vantage point in the room full of people dancing, drinking, darting and occasionally kissing. With her glittering eyelids, long, curled lashes and tantalizing geisha look, Monsoon performed a Bollywood number, Pallo Latke. Monsoon’s movements seemed to set everything on fire – the disco lights, the dancing crowd, the lovers kissing in the dark, the smiling bouncers and the maintenance staff mopping up bits of broken glass on the floor. As the night faded, the dancing grew wilder and the kisses more passionate, with the crowd refusing to stop.
(This appeared in the print edition as “The Politics Of Two Attires”)
At one o’clock in the morning at Kitty Su, an LGBTQIA+ friendly nightclub located on the 28th floor of the luxurious Lalit Hotel in Delhi, the night was lively. Commemorating the fourth anniversary of the decriminalization of IPC Section 377, the club hosted a queer party and drag show. Disco lights in the otherwise dimly lit club danced frantically, as did queer people partying on the floor. Everything in the room – hips, arms, feet, bodies, lights and music – danced to a universal rhythm that bounced and swayed shamelessly like subatomic particles racing in every possible direction, creating a miasma of color and body. Drag shows are festive gatherings, often hosted by nightclubs. Although its primary purpose is entertainment, it is also used as a self-expression and celebration of LGBTQIA+ pride. A typical drag show includes a drag queen with an elaborate outfit, hair and makeup, lip-syncing, or dancing to pop numbers.
Although the flamboyantly dressed queer crowd at Kitty Su looked engaged in partying, they were looking forward to the queens, and in particular Lush Monsoon’s performance. When she appeared, Monsoon wore sparkly makeup, a kimono-like dress, a large shimada-like wig, a pair of fancy glasses, and carried a Japanese mai-ougi fan. When Monsoon entered, her kimono sleeves fluttered and a multitude of cameramen with their heavy equipment followed her trail, all jostling in the crowd. Teya, a drag queen, wearing a silver blonde wig, who had already taken the stage, made an announcement asking guests to gather. The crowd accepted. “It’s a commemoration of our freedom, my friends,” she said enthusiastically into the microphone, as the crowd roared with excitement. “Four years ago, the fangs of section 377 were torn off! This night is for party people, let’s dance to death!
The lights on the floor flashed as the DJ took over, playing Beyonce’s track Freedom. Drag queen Betta Naan Stop was on stage, performing the act. “Freedom, let me go, sing… freedom, freedom…Where are you?” Betta lip-synced to Beyonce, slyly swaying her hips like a snake. The spellbound crowd danced.
Ayushmaan aka Lush Monsoon is a human rights lawyer by day and a drag queen by night. “I can never experiment and express my femininity as freely as on stage,” Monsoon says. Their sense of freedom is “closely tied” to flirting.
Although drag as an art form is not limited to gender and sexuality, and heterosexual performers also cross-dress, it hones an element of performance in which performers express the layers of identities to which they relate. . As such, drag is an integral part of the LGBTQIA+ community. “Drag is closely tied to homosexuality, because it’s about expressing something that society doesn’t conform to or considers taboo,” Monsoon explains.
Although drag as an art form is not limited to gender and sexuality, and heterosexual performers also cross dress, it hones an element of performance in which performers express the layers of identities to which they relate. report in society.
Monsoon believes India’s modern drag scene is somewhat inspired by the American ballroom culture of the late 1980s – an African-American and Latino LGBTQIA+ subculture that originated in New York City, where drag queens held their own events to stand up to the racism experienced in existing and established venues. landscapes.
For Monsoon, drag is a political art form. Along with peripheral environmental or structural politics, flirting also refers to personal politics. For example, many drag queens in India participate in LGBTQIA+ activism and have raised their voices against laws that have been regressive for the community. Additionally, on a personal level, the willingness and choice of drag performers to cross-dress, perform, and freely express their identity signifies action, in which the principles of personal politics come into play.
In India, being visibly queer – as in the case of drag performers – comes at a huge cost. Donning the clothes to express one’s feminine side, Monsoon says, is looked down upon. Although the drag performers’ struggle to assert their identity seems like a daunting task, drag nights in clubs give them hope. “These are spaces of joy and hope, where we build community,” Monsoon says of venues hosting drag parties in the capital.
Although drag provides a safe space for gay people, the venues where the shows are hosted are accessible to groups with social and financial privilege. “In developing countries like India,” says a gender studies researcher, “where the gap between the haves and the have-nots is sickening, such practices only cater to groups who are essentially elites”.
Nevertheless, drag elements are not new in India. Indian princely courts in medieval times had drag performers, and the culture also flourished in kothis. For decades, popular art forms like jatra and lavani have always had men playing the role of women. Traditional forms of performance art such as Lok Rang Nour of rural Punjab, have survived for many generations with extraordinary resilience. Kaniyan Koothu in Tamil Nadu and Launda Naach in Bihar are two examples of such art forms which are still in vogue. Cross-dressing, as much as defining drag requirements, was an important component of Indian culture before it fell victim to systematic stigma and contempt, particularly due to colonialism, Victorian morality, and the regressive regulations that came with it.
“Drag has always been an integral part of our history,” says Keshav Suri, the founder of Kitty Su. “However, colonial guilt marginalized the queer community and we fled our own culture,” he adds. “Drag is deeply rooted in the layers of diversity in Indian culture,” says internationally acclaimed drag queen Sushant Divgikar. “In our folk dances, men perform as women. The emperors’ courts had royal eunuchs,” adds Divgikar, whose name is RANI Ko-HE-Nur. “The colonial mentality doesn’t want to talk about our rich culture,” he adds.
Cross-dressing was an important component of Indian culture before it fell victim to stigma, particularly due to colonialism, Victorian morality, and the regressive regulations that came with it.
Other drag artists have taken inspiration from the West. Nitish Anand aka Shabnam was inspired by the American teen sitcom Hannah Montana, in which a teenager played by Miley Cyrus leads a double life: pop star Hannah Montana by night, student Miley Stewart by day. “I thought if Hannah could do it, why can’t I?” Another performance that inspires Anand is the character of Edna Turnblad played by John Travolta in hair spray. “Female characters played by cisgender men, like Travolta in hair sprayopened up new vistas for me,” Anand recalled, adding, “I had the revelation that I can change identities and appearances and express myself freely.
In Indian film and television too, references to drag performances have cropped up time and time again. Let it be Govinda’s Aunt #1by Kamal Hassan Chachi 420 or Guthi, the comic book character of Sunil Grover, they are full of references to flirt with. Says Anand, “We have to understand that these characters have often been portrayed to invite ridicule or evoke laughter. We need to de-stigmatize drag and avoid the self-deprecating humor that is used to titillate viewers.
“Drag is not just an art form or a means of self-expression. It is a tool through which we can educate the community, fight taboos and create a fabric that preaches freedom,” says Anand.
At Kitty Su’s, the party was getting happier and happier. Queens delivered scintillating performances, setting the stage for Monsoon. The film crew tried to find a vantage point in the room full of people dancing, drinking, darting and occasionally kissing. With her glittering eyelids, long, curled lashes and tantalizing geisha look, Monsoon performed a Bollywood number, Pallo Latke. Monsoon’s movements seemed to set everything on fire – the disco lights, the dancing crowd, the lovers kissing in the dark, the smiling bouncers and the maintenance staff mopping up bits of broken glass on the floor. As the night faded, the dancing grew wilder and the kisses more passionate, with the crowd refusing to stop.
(This appeared in the print edition as “The Politics Of Two Attires”)