Picture this: A drag queen, makeup flawless and nails sharp enough to slice through prejudice, walks not onto a stage—but into a courtroom, a city council meeting, or the state capitol. In an era where queer rights are under fire and drag is demonized as a threat to public decency, drag performers in America’s most conservative states are refusing to back down. They’re not just serving looks. They’re serving notice.

This is a deep dive into how drag queens across the United States, especially in red states, are flipping the script. From running for office and launching court challenges to starting community aid programs and organizing underground performances, these queens are putting the “act” in activism. Because drag has always been political—and now more than ever, it’s a frontline defense against a growing anti-LGBTQ+ agenda.

The Backlash Against Drag

Legislating the Closet

The past few years have seen a wave of legislative attacks targeting drag performers under the guise of protecting children. These laws often use vague, intentionally broad language to ban “adult cabaret performances” in public places, implicitly targeting drag shows without naming them outright. Tennessee made national headlines in 2023 with one of the first laws of its kind, banning public drag performances deemed “sexually explicit” and criminalizing performers who violate the rule.

This kind of legislative framing—equating drag with obscenity or adult-only entertainment—rests on long-standing homophobic and transphobic tropes. Drag is painted as inherently inappropriate, perverse, or dangerous, simply because it challenges traditional gender norms. But drag has existed in America for over a century, from vaudeville stages to Harlem ballrooms to RuPaul’s Drag Race. It’s art. It’s culture. And it’s not going anywhere.

Impact on Local Drag Communities

The fallout has been immediate and devastating, especially in conservative states where queer communities already face heightened scrutiny. Drag shows have been canceled. Bars and venues have received threats. Performers have lost income, security, and access to their audiences. For many queens, drag isn’t just a passion—it’s a livelihood.

In places like Arkansas, queens have reported harassment, doxing, and surveillance from right-wing groups. In Florida, Pride festivals were forced to cancel or remove drag performances from their lineups to avoid violating state laws. In Texas, the ripple effects have extended into schools, libraries, and even local theaters.

What these bans really do is send a message: Queer joy is dangerous. Gender nonconformity is criminal. And anyone who challenges the binary is fair game.

Queens on the Frontlines

Running for Office in Heels

When the government tries to erase you, you run for office and make sure your name is on the damn ballot.

Maebe A. Girl, a nonbinary drag queen, became the first drag performer elected to public office in the U.S. when she won a seat on the Silver Lake Neighborhood Council in Los Angeles. Her political presence isn’t just symbolic—it’s a protest wrapped in sequins. Maebe has since launched multiple congressional campaigns, advocating for queer rights, healthcare access, and economic justice.

While Maebe operates in California, the ripple effect is felt nationally. Her presence forces conversations about what queer leadership looks like and challenges assumptions about who can hold power. Meanwhile, in Texas, drag artist Brigitte Bandit has become a powerful voice for advocacy, frequently testifying at the state legislature in full drag to oppose anti-LGBTQ+ laws. Her presence is unignorable—and that’s exactly the point.

These queens aren’t just playing politics. They’re redefining it.

Lawsuits in Lipstick

Legal battles have become one of the most effective ways queens are fighting back.

Joshua Allen, known on stage as Prism, became a central figure in the fight against Tennessee’s drag ban. Backed by the ACLU, Prism sued the state, arguing that the law violated First Amendment rights. And the courts agreed—a federal judge ruled the law unconstitutional, stating it was “not narrowly tailored” and threatened freedom of expression.

In Florida, the Hamburger Mary’s restaurant chain joined the legal fight, suing the state over its anti-drag law, citing lost revenue and unlawful censorship. Performers like Aphrodite and Misty Eyez, longtime queens in Fort Lauderdale, have spoken publicly about their fear and determination in the face of this legal intimidation.

These aren’t just lawsuits—they’re lifelines. Queens are demanding recognition not just as entertainers but as citizens whose rights deserve protection.

Charity, Advocacy, and Mutual Aid

Beyond the courtrooms and campaigns, queens are stepping up in their communities.

Miss Kitty Litter, based in Austin, Texas, launched a mutual aid program called Queer Pantry, which provides food and hygiene products to LGBTQ+ individuals in need. In Tallahassee, Florida, a group of queens founded Rainbow Refuge, a temporary shelter for trans and queer youth displaced by family rejection or political fallout.

Meanwhile, national figures like Sasha Colby have used their platforms to raise money for Black and brown trans-led organizations, spotlighting local efforts that often go unnoticed. The Boulet Brothers have launched fundraising campaigns for queer horror filmmakers and artists affected by anti-LGBTQ+ laws.

Drag queens are often some of the first people to respond in times of crisis—organizing GoFundMes, hosting benefit shows, and showing up where government support falls short. Their work proves that drag isn’t just spectacle. It’s community leadership.

The Power of Visibility

Using Social Media as a Battlefield

With venues under threat and public spaces patrolled, many queens have turned to digital platforms as safe havens and bullhorns.

Drag performers like Megami NYC, Bella DuBalle, and Tequila Mockingbird are using TikTok and Instagram not just to promote their shows but to dismantle right-wing talking points, fundraise for LGBTQ+ youth, and educate followers about their rights. These queens blend humor, fashion, and political savvy to reach audiences that mainstream media often ignores.

Some have even launched their own digital talk shows and podcasts, hosting queer educators, lawyers, and activists to speak directly to the community. These online spaces are more than vanity projects. They’re survival tools.

School Libraries and Story Hours: Still Fighting Back

Perhaps no event has been more demonized than Drag Queen Story Hour. Right-wing activists have painted these events as indoctrination—but the truth is far simpler. They’re about fostering inclusion, promoting literacy, and showing kids that it’s OK to be different.

In many conservative towns, these events have been pushed underground. Queens now host private story hours in homes, LGBTQ+ centers, and even churches. In Missouri, a group of retired schoolteachers partnered with drag performers to launch a mobile library and literacy program aimed at marginalized children.

Every book read, every photo snapped, every child who sees someone like them standing proud in a pair of heels is a victory.

Why This Fight Matters to the Broader LGBTQ+ Community

The Slippery Slope of Censorship

Drag bans are rarely just about drag. They’re trial balloons for broader authoritarian agendas.

We’ve seen it before. Don’t Say Gay becomes Don’t Teach Black History. Book bans start with gender theory and end with Holocaust memoirs. The strategy is clear: Remove anything that challenges white, cisgender, heteronormative supremacy.

The LGBTQ+ community must see these drag bans for what they are—a canary in the coal mine. If drag is criminalized today, tomorrow it will be gender expression, trans healthcare, interracial relationships, or basic civil rights. The time to fight is now.

Queens as Cultural and Political Leaders

Drag queens have long been the frontlines of queer liberation. From Marsha P. Johnson at Stonewall to the queens who carried the AIDS crisis on their padded shoulders, drag is resistance incarnate.

Today’s queens are following that legacy and updating it for a digital, hyper-politicized age. They’re not waiting for mainstream approval. They’re building their own stages, crafting their own legislation, and speaking their truth—whether it’s on a mic at brunch or a mic in Congress.

And as much as bigots try to silence them, queens know one truth: You can’t ban a movement built on resilience, glamour, and the unshakable belief that everyone deserves to shine.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Across America, queens are showing us what true power looks like. Not just in rhinestones and read sessions, but in courtrooms, classrooms, libraries, protests, and campaign offices. They’re not backing down—they’re leading the charge.

To the lawmakers who think a wig is a weapon: You’re damn right it is. But it’s not just a symbol of defiance. It’s a crown of survival. It represents every queer kid who dared to dream. Every trans teen who’s scared to go to school. Every elder who fought for rights we now have to fight to keep.

Support your local queens. Amplify their voices. Defend their rights. Because when drag is under attack, the entire LGBTQ+ community is at risk.

And darling, we’ve got too much to live for to let that happen.