When I first laid eyes on RuPaul’s Drag Race, I was living and working abroad in Turkey as a drag queen. Those were the gritty days of having to scour the internet for dodgy links, but I was willing to suffer the constant buffering and pixelated images just to get a glimpse of this fascinating new world. I knew of RuPaul, of course, but had little awareness of US drag culture. As I watched stunning queens like PorkChop and Morgan McMichaels compete with such dedication to glamorous perfection on this scrappy upstart of a show, I realised this was on a different level from the drag I thought I knew so much about.
My first encounter with drag growing up in North Wales was catching Lily Savage on TV. But when she disappeared from screens, so did drag’s mainstream presence in the UK. It wasn’t until years later that a video of Chad Michaels performing as Cher reintroduced me to the art form — she was so good that, at first, I wondered why Cher was belting out numbers in tiny gay bars between arena tours. I was spellbound and set about voraciously researching this creative realm. I reached out to Chad Michaels on Facebook at 14, and she became both a friend and mentor, later even performing at my wedding.
When RuPaul’s Drag Race UK was announced in 2019, it was a sign that this once-tiny show from the fringes had really made it — and of all the places that I thought it would pop up, I never dreamed it would be the BBC (shout-out to commissioning editor Ruby Kuraishe for making this happen!). Of course, I jumped at the chance to audition. I saw it as an opportunity to introduce the world I loved to a broader audience. Walking onto the Werq Room set felt surreal, like stepping into a dream. It was a moment where a once-subversive art form had transformed into a major cultural phenomenon.