When Crystal Lubrikunt started in drag, she loved doing lip-synchs. Her audience, however, was less convinced. “I remember performing in bars and people giving me looks: ‘Why isn’t she singing?’” There was a certain snobbery on the British scene: “proper” drag was a live performance. Seven years later, Crystal doesn’t even need to do mixes and mash-ups. Synching to a single song is enough to make audiences go wild.
What led to this change of taste? Three words: RuPaul’s Drag Race, the American reality television behemoth that since 2009 has challenged drag queens to sew, sing, joke and dance their way to superstardom. The rise of mimed performances, which appear in every episode of the show, is one of many ways that Drag Race has created a new definition of drag – and taken it mainstream. “[Drag has] gone from being alternative to a commercially acceptable art form,” says Crystal.
This is both a blessing and a curse. Drag Race takes artists who were once maligned and financially insecure and turns them into juggernauts with careers in cinema, music and fashion. This year marked the first time drag queens attended the Met Gala and two Drag Race alumnae were on the Oscars red carpet for supporting roles in A Star Is Born. But some argue that Drag Race is also a show that has had a detrimental effect – on queens and the scene as a whole – in its pursuit of star making.
Since the announcement of this autumn’s Drag Race UK, the first RuPaul-helmed international variant of the Emmy-winning American original, responses among British drag artists have been mixed. While there is undoubtedly excitement for the queens who will become stars, many in the community have reservations – some aggressively so. “[I] don’t have enough time to discuss something that I detest so much,” a British drag queen tells GQ.
Part of the animosity stems from the show’s attitudes towards trans people. It used to feature a segment entitled “You’ve Got She-Mail”, which has since been changed following accusations that the use of any variant of “shemale” is transphobic. The first openly trans woman competed on the show in 2017, but even after that RuPaul said he wouldn’t allow trans women on the show if they’d had breast implants or other surgical procedures. “You can take performance-enhancing drugs and still be an athlete, just not in the Olympics,” he added on Twitter following the controversy. It did not go down well.
What’s more, there are concerns about the experience of competing. Some contestants say their mental health was not properly supported. Laganja Estranja became infamous on series six for her volume, her incessant use of queer slang and her vulnerability, which often manifested in dramatic or confusing ways. She left loathed by many fans. “It was my first time on reality TV at 23 years old. I didn’t know how it all worked. I was very vulnerable and gave them exactly what they wanted,” she says. “I had to really rebuild my brand.”
Laganja doesn’t blame the show for how she acted – “I had the choice to have those things come out of my mouth” – but she does hope the programme and all reality TV gets better at offering counselling to contestants. “When I got off Drag Race I became an alcoholic and my life spiralled out of control,” she says. World Of Wonder, the production company behind RuPaul’s Drag Race, told GQ, “Professional counselling services offering specific therapeutic guidance and support are implemented before, during and after production.”
There are also broader worries about the show propagating a polished American version of drag that will compromise the rough-and-readiness that makes British drag unique. Drag queen Luna Lestrange, 22, shares those fears and is also anxious that the show might lead to a pay disparity between Drag Race queens and, well, everyone else. “Lots of companies and promoters have the mentality of ‘You ain’t shit till you’re picked by Ru,’” she says, quoting Drag Race participant Charlie Hides. “Why should being cast on a reality show make a difference between who is paid and who isn’t?” That said, she is hopeful that the show would try to be the best version of itself it could be: if it isn’t, she believes it will fizzle and die. Even Laganja believes that, “There’s more good than there is bad.”
This last sentiment was echoed by nearly everyone I spoke to. For all the show’s complicated relationships with the wider LGBTQ+ community, there is still excitement about what it could bring. Thirty-year-old drag queen Crayola, for instance, believes that, “A high tide raises all ships.” London drag fixture Just May sums up a prevailing position: “There are quite a few people that held off applying [for series one] as they want to see how it goes.” Indeed, for that reason a number of drag queens refused to go on the record about their reservations, lest it spoil their chances should they decide to apply in the future.
Michelle Visage, for whom this show is a passion project, says she’s been reading the negative tweets and hopes people’s qualms will be put to bed quickly. She is one of the show’s long-standing judges – famous for her iciness – and helped bring the show to the UK. “We don’t take away the charm that British drag has to offer,” she assures us. Plus, Drag Race airing on British TV means fans no longer have to catch it at 2am (it aired in the US at 9pm EST). As Visage says, this means, “Local queer establishments get to make money on Drag Race UK night,” by hosting viewing parties with local queens, the way American bars have done for years: a vital shot in the arm for the queer nightlife economy, at a time when venues continue to close all over the country, and a great opportunity for local queens to host a new night. “It’s really important that we can give back.”
Visage and the team behind the show don’t want to mutate British drag, but it’s undeniable that drag the world over has been changed by this new template for success. “I think it’s going to homogenise what you guys have over there,” said Laganja. “People try to copy what’s on television instead of finding their own path.” Queens such as Crystal, who have seen that change firsthand, have also come to realise they won’t find what they want on Drag Race. “Why would I go on a programme where I believe my only reason would be to make more money?” she says. “Do I want to learn to sew or style wigs? I’m good. I don’t need someone to tell me my drag isn’t drag.”
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