Dungeons and Drag Shows: Part Two

Part Two: The part about Drag Shows…kinda

This post isn’t what you think it is, but if you sit tight and give it a shot it might actually be something better. This post is another post in disguise that either has very little to do with cross-dressing or just about everything in the world to do with cross-dressing. Frankly I haven’t really decided yet and I’m the author. Chaos Reigns

When we’re born we are nothing. A blank slate. Gender alone governs the first few years of our life. What toys we are given, what stories we are told, the color of our clothes and bedroom. Eventually we grow older and begin to develop likes and dislikes, sometimes talents are found. As the years go by this House of Me begins to be built, the construction of which is never quite complete.

We tell ourselves things. Things that are ultimately meaningless but they help us to answer that scary question “Who am I?” This is how I feel and this is how I vote. These are my values. This is how I party. This is who I pray to. This is how I fuck. Never, ever is this more evident in the concept of sports rivalries. It’s not bad enough we have to identify ourselves by what team we root for we also have to identify other people we decide we don’t like based on what team they root for? Jesus Christ guys now we’re just looking for reasons not to get along (end digression).

But we do all this because it…well because it’s what we do. It’s human nature. It’s part of growing up. But do we ever stop to think how damaging it all might be? It’s like building a cage. Yeah it’s your own cage, and you built it (with a little help others), but it’s still a cage.

Grant Morrison illustrates this perfectly with his “White Flame Mediation” sequence in The Invisibles (v2#3) where a teacher asks a student to describe a wooden chair…

Student: It’s a chair.

Teacher: Is that all? Does that describe the entirety of this object?

Student: It’s an object with four legs and a thing to hold up your ass so you don’t have to sit down in the dirt like the rest of us dickheads. Chair.

Teacher: Yes, a partial description. But if you were an antiques dealer you could also describe this object’s agreed worth – somewhere in the region of a quarter of a million dollars. If you were a specialist, you could describe the intricacies of the craftsmanship in detailed jargon. If you were Van Gogh, you might attempt to describe its soul…

But where in all of this description is the essential chair? Have we yet come even close to a full description of it? Did we even mention that several hundred years ago, it wasn’t a chair but a tree? Where is it now? Here? Or in memory? We cannot even fully describe a chair and yet we say “I AM.” “I AM…” Understand there is NO “I AM” Nothing “IS” Try to describe all that you are. Simultaneously discern the logical flaw in what I’ve just said…Feel the white flame. 

So who are we?

Our sense of self is such a powerful construct but ultimately it’s paper thin. Everything we spent our lives telling ourselves about ourselves can instantly be negated if we want. After all we made the rules in the first place right? Our parents and teachers weren’t lying to us when they said we could be whatever we wanted to be when we grew up, I just think they had different definitions of “BE” and “GREW UP”. We will never stop growing, and we will never be anything more that what we decide to be.

What does this all have to do with Drag Shows?

Absolutely nothing. Or possibly everything. I still haven’t figured that out yet.

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