The queer arts and those that partake in them are a vital part of our fucking community. So when the moment presents itself for you to experience and support our culture, you take full and complete fucking advantage.
My partner Tink (@Sarabesque) asked me to come along as they judged a contest in…wait for it…FUCKING MILLERSVILLE, PA. And like a good and endearing partner, I agreed to this Wayne’s World-like road trip, if for no other reason but to have some one-on-one time with them. Little did I know the evening would be so fabulous.
When I tell you that traveling from Baltimore to this small town just outside of Lancaster, PA. involved going over some fucking hills and through a fair amount of woods to a place where Trump signs can be seen in nearly every front yard; I shit you not.
Only to find this island of queerNess nestled in a sleepy small town where chickens possibly outnumber residents. (you could literally see live chickens just outside of the venue across the parking lot.)
Yet this bastion of the Avant-garde, known simply as Phantom Power (@phantompower717), exists as a safe space for personal expression. It’s fucking glorious!
Last night was the second annual Ms. Phantom Power Contest, consisting of no less than 8 contestants and a smattering of the who’s who in the drag community, both judging and providing intermediary entertainment. The evening was indulgently indicative of Pose-like ballroom contests, where mighty and glamorous houses competed in a crucible of decadence.
Each contestant brought their package with them, building on the previous. One after another, playing their soul in a fucking artistic tantrum of expression.
One such contestant made a PB&J with their Punani right on the stage, which involved a Maelstrom of kicks and splits, finally shooting peanut butter across the room in a flourish of glory that would make Divine herself blush.
Climaxing in a fucking lip-sync battle between two of the semi-finalist could only be described as something that momma-rue herself would have been more than proud of.
And like all contests, there can be only one winner, with the crown going to that before-mentioned queen of the poontang peanut butter sandwich Ms. Derrière (@derrriere).
Unexpected nights like last night are the fucking shit dreams are made of. Getting to be in a moment of art in movement is something that really doesn’t happen as often as you would think. But this night was just something special. Getting to see all of this talent in one place, in the middle of Trump’s America, not only being really genuine to themselves but also thriving, really inspired me. As a past title holder (all be it in the leather community) myself, I know the chops it takes to get on a stage and pour your heart into something that makes you passionate. You need to have reserves of might that is really hard to fully measure.
So get the fuck out there, go to that queer art show, tip a queen, and be present in our community. Art requires support to grow, and with growth comes real change and common understanding. And that is really what we are all after.
