"We're Here": Drag queens bring love to homophobic small towns. With bonus small town guys' dicks

When I "figured it out," back in the 1980s, I immediately started looking for a safe place, where you weren't asked "What girl do you like?" every thirty seconds, where your friends wouldn't run away in horror if they found out, where you didn't have to hide all the time.  

Everyone did. They called it The Great Gay Migration: every gay man who could afford it, and many who couldn't, fled from their homophobic small towns to the gay neighborhoods of Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York -- that's all we knew about, at first.  Later, some chose smaller gay neighborhoods in Houston, Philadelphia, Boston, Chicago, Montreal, and Toronto.  We went home once a year, maybe, to field questions about the hotness of California girls at Thanksgiving Dinner.

We knew that some LGBT people stayed home, or made the Great Gay Migration, then changed their minds and went back.  We had no idea why.  I still don't, after watching several episodes of We're Here, a reality series where three drag queens sashay down the street in small, redneck towns like Selma, Alabama; Watertown, South Dakota; and St. George, Utah.  I'd be afraid to go near them, even as  cisgender and masculine-presenting.  Establishing shots minimize the horrified looks and screeching about the Book of Leviticus, probably because you have to get the screechers' release: most people seem delighted by the sashaying queens in their dull, colorless town.

The queens teach some of the locals the basics of drag, like how to hide your bulge, and put on a show with them. 

In Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, amid the Confederate flags and monuments, they help:

A femme guy who works the makeup counter at the drug store.  His only gay friend in town moved to Philadelphia.  Why didn't you?

A cisgender straight guy who wants to do drag as an ally.

A woman who rejected her daughter when she came out as bisexual -- "I just thought, 'she's going over to the enemy."  Then she found the daughter's diary, and wondered what she did to make the girl consider suicide.  Being rejected by the family, maybe?  She wants to do drag to restore the relationship.

In the immensely Mormon, cowboy-redneck Twin Falls, Idaho, which looks horrible no matter how hard the queens work at finding it quaint, they help:

A queen who can spend months without ever seeing another queer person.

A reformed homophobe -- "I threw the slurs around.  I just thought, 'They're bad people.  Good people don't do that.'"

A transman and his wife. who haven't exactly been rejected by the family -- "Mom came to our wedding, but she wasn't happy about it."

In Christian-central Branson, Missouri, they help:

A Dad who wants to do drag to become more emotionally available to his sick daughter.

Tanner, who came out at age 17.  His mother was completely supportive.  Then he decided that he had to choose God over the "homosexual lifestyle."  She doesn't get it.  He wants to do drag do let Mom know that it's ok, he's going to heaven, so he doesn't need sex or romance on Earth.

Grr -- the second thing I did after "figuring it out" was to find a gay-friendly church, and there was one in my homophobic small town 40 years ago.  Somebody tell this guy that the five "clobber verses" in the Bible have nothing to do with contemporary LGBT people or committed gay relationships, being gay is ok in most mainstream Protestant churches, and 70% of young evangelicals support gay marriage.

More after the break

Nazarene Baptism: A liberal preacher, a swimming pool baptism, and a lot of sausage sightings

At the beginning of my senior year in high school, our long-time Nazarene preacher had to resign after his son got a girl pregnant.  Our new preacher,  Rev. Spearman from Northwest Nazarene College in Idaho, was tall, blond, stupid...and liberal: on the cutting edge of evangelical theology.

Most Nazarenes had no idea that LGBT people existed -- they weren't even mentioned until the last edition of the Manual -- but  Brother Spearman gleefully referenced homa-sekshuls in nearly every sermon, blaming nearly every catastrophe or social problem on them, or on Christians for not hating them enough.

Most Nazarenes preachers screamed about our need to go down to the altar to get saved (forgiven of our sins) and sanctified (being cleansed of the ability to sin), but Brother Spearman added a third step, technically in the theology but rarely mentioned: consecration, dedicating your life to God.

Thus he cannily increased the number of times you had to go to the altar.  I was sure he did it to push up the altar-call numbers, which would lead to a renewed contract.

More after the break