Photo: Dawg, the Bounty Hunter (click here for full slideshow)
What happens when you send a famous drag queen to the 12th Annual Drag King contest and report? ASD's Heklina plays it straight, while the gay girls go wild. ASD proudly applauds winner Pete Sake. Proof that humor works just as well in drag. Bravo, girl. I mean, guy. I mean ... -d2
Smackdown: Pete Sake makes bitches of Hilton, Richie, Martha Stewart
In the world of queer gender politics, much in the same way that one must remember the right pronouns when introducing someone on stage (God help you should you refer to a Drag King as a she), great care must also be taken when naming our competitions. Drag Queens, of course, enter Pageants. Drag Kings, on the other hand, enter ...
After watching the 12th Annual SF Drag King Contest, I think they should consider changing the title to Smackdown. True, things got off to a shaky start, with the first few contestants failing to take advantage of the huge stage and delivering lackluster performances. Things finally kicked in to gear and I was struck by how Drag King performance has evolved over the years; we’ve moved on from the some times tiresome displays of machismo of the past to full fledged choreography and –gasp- high-concept performance.
The brilliantly named L. Ron Hubby treated us to a completely mental pastiche of Scientology, to the tune of –yes! - “She Blinded Me With Science”. Delicio Del Toro gyrated to Loverboy for what I’m sure was the only Drag King pole-dancing performance I’ve ever seen. The disturbingly sexy Clay Faiken was a Doppelganger for, you guessed it, Clay Aiken, and was showered with women’s panties during his performance. The Motown medley of the 5-piece dance ensemble PacMen was so tight it squeaked. Each pop and lock gyration drove the audience into such a frenzy that if I closed my eyes I could have sworn I was at a Justin Timberlake concert. One after another, the girls-oops, sorry, boyz-kept upping the ante.
Oh, yes, I can’t forget the audience. Much is made in the Gay Community of the theory that lesbians don’t go out –you know, the old cliché about two girls meet, two girls fall in love, two girls rent a UHaul, two girls move in together and become hermits. That may be, but I couldn’t believe the throngs of women (in men’s clothing) jammed into SomArts Gallery, dressed to the nines, ready to P-A-R-T-Y. Where are all these dykes the rest of the year? MC and promoter of the event Fudgie Frottage even confided that he got into trouble for going over capacity, forcing the venue to knock out a back wall to fit in more people.
After the dust had settled, it was time to bring out all the contestants onto the stage to announce the winner, or rather, confusingly, the winners. The list of titleholders was a bit lengthy, with nods gong to best live singer, best lip-syncher, best group performance, etc.
I mean, I’m all for inclusion, but come on, it’s a contest, there had to be some losers! Finally they announced the winner of the coveted SF Drag King 2007 title, and it truly went to the most clever act of the night, Pete Sake, (below)
who had delivered a great theatrical Cell Block H piece, dressed up as a police officer with Paris Hilton, Nicole Ritchie, and Martha Stewart look-a-likes dancing behind him.
It was unclear what any of these winners had actually won but, as always with these events, just walking away with the title was enough.
Hyper aware that I had been hired to write a piece about the contest, and knowing from brutal experience how nasty competitions can be, I was running around afterwards asking anyone who would talk to me to fill me in on all the back-stage dirt and scandal.
I needn’t have bothered; all I could find were people smiling ear-to-ear, taking group photos, and congratulating one another. No drama to be found here, truly the best man had won.