One week after a devastating storm wreaked havoc on Brunswick County's roads, I'm driving over the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge, refreshing Google Maps. It's Saturday night in Leland, and I'm slightly worried that road closures might make it harder to find tonight's performance. Turns out, I had nothing to worry about.
In a little strip mall, sandwiched between a tool shop and a laundromat, sits the Gio Fund — a thrift store slash event venue supporting pet owners and animals in the Brunswick County area. Tonight, it's decorated with a giant yellow banner, reading: "DRAG SHOW SATURDAY." You can see it from anywhere in the parking lot.
On the first Saturday of each month, the Gio Fund puts on the Brunswick County Drag Drive, a fundraising event run by drag queens. It's hosted by Prwincezz Malaysia Kay, a drag queen from Leland, who tells WHQR it may be the first show of its kind in the county.
"That's why I started it," she said. "I think the more that we do and the more we can spread it around, showing that what we're doing is fun, exciting and not hurting anyone… the better."
A changing county
You might think that a drag show in a majority Republican, largely rural North Carolina county would be more tucked away. But Prwincezz tells me the nonprofit's owners insisted on hanging the banner.
"They themselves put it out there," she tells me, "I didn't have to push for that. They did it on their own."
"Which is so adorable," Tatianna Matthews — another drag queen performing tonight — interjects.
I'm sitting backstage with three of tonight's performers: Prwincezz, Tatianna, and another Wilmington-based drag queen named Karma. As Tatianna applies her makeup at the makeshift vanity, she tells me she's no stranger to small towns. She grew up in Maxton.
"It's funny that [Gio Fund is] beside a laundromat, because when I started going doing drag in Robeson County and Lumberton, it was beside a laundromat," she says, laughing.
Both Tatianna and Prwincezz have done drag all over the South: Prwincezz in Texas and Georgia, Tatianna in Fayetteville and Raleigh. Though they now both live in Wilmington, they felt drawn to doing a show in Leland — partly because of their rural upbringings.
"I'm a country boy at heart anyways," Tatianna jokes.
But Prwincezz says it's also due to Leland's growth. As the population has boomed, she says, so has the demand for drag.
"There's such a bigger community here that wasn't here when I was 18, 19 and not really knowing where to go or who to hang out with," she told me. "So when I moved back, I was like, 'holy cow.' I mean, I work more here than I did in Atlanta… It's crazy just to see how much the community's changing, and how much people are wanting drag."
Dealing with the backlash
Outside, pop music blares over the speakers. It's only 7 p.m., but already, every seat at the bar is taken, and all the booths and tables — which come at a premium price — are full. Most attendees look to be in their 50s or 60s, but there's a few millennials and 20-somethings in the crowd, too.
After the last queen — Rashmia Biosh — arrives, Prwincezz kicks things off.
"Brunswick County, how y'all doing?" she yells.
She emerges from backstage in a bedazzled rainbow dress and a towering feathered cap. Her mom, who's wearing a sequined top to match, films her as she sweeps by. The audience erupts with cheers.
"I had to kill every chicken in Brunswick County to make this headpiece," she quips. "So if you're looking for your chickens, honey, they're gone. Gone!"
This is the third monthly show Prwincezz has done here in Leland. And in spite of the crowd's enthusiasm tonight, she hasn't always had a warm reception from her hometown.
"As soon as I started this, you know, we did have some backlash on Facebook from not only the people who donate to here, but also in the community," she told me. "Saying, you know, that they're not going to donate to this organization anymore, or anything like that."
She wasn't surprised. North Carolina has cracked down on trans rights in recent years. Last year, North Carolina legislators overrode Gov. Roy Cooper's veto on the Parents' Bill of Rights. That law bans curriculum related to the LGBTQ community from kindergarten to fourth grade, and it requires school staff to inform parents of their child's name or pronoun changes.
Not all drag queens are transgender. Many live as cisgender men and perform as women. But Tatianna says their gender nonconformity still puts a target on their backs.
"I read for drag queen story hour. So we would always have protesters out there, saying, like, 'protect our kids! You're pedophiles!' and all this stuff," she says. "But like, I have an education group, too. I do this out of drag. We're really just reading books to your kids."
Before doing drag full-time, Tatianna and Prwincezz both worked in public high schools as music instructors. They're both still passionate about working with young people. But the political climate around drag has made them much more careful.
"My flyer says 21 and up," Prwincezz says. "I mean, I've been in a show where the Proud Boys have showed up, so that's not something I wanted to run into again."
Unexpected allies
North Carolina Republicans are by and large behind the state's anti-LGBT legislation. But Karma tells me that a lot of folks tipping the queens tonight are Republicans. So are the people who run the venue. So are many of the people she meets at her day job in Wilmington.
"Even out of makeup, in my regular clothes, it's she/her, because I am a trans woman, and they always say my chosen name [and] she/her. They never disrespect me," she told me. "Like, I honestly rarely run into any issues out there."
It's a weird dynamic. This year, many people in the audience will go on to vote for Republicans: state representatives Frank Iler and Charles Miller, both Brunswick County Republicans, both supporters of the Parents' Bill of Rights; gubernatorial candidate Mark Robinson, who in 2019 called gender transition "mass delusion"; presidential candidate Donald Trump, who routinely makes transphobic remarks on the campaign trail and has promised to enact a host of anti-trans measures.
But Prwincezz says that in Leland, she still gets more approval than hate.
"Anytime somebody says anything derogatory online, the owner and the business and everybody who supports us has been right there, helping us and… not attacking other people, but defending us," she says.
Tatianna sees a partly Republican crowd as progress. She hopes their support for drag leads to more support for LGBT rights — or at least less hostility towards gay and trans people.
"We're not trying to put it in your face, but it's one of the things," she says. "Like, we exist. Like, these types of people exist. You're just gonna have to get used to it."
Brunswick County may be solidly red. But at Gio Fund that night, one group of residents made it clear that they weren't just used to it — they loved it.
