Grenada - Part III

In the final post about my 40th birthday trip to Grenada, I'm going to talk about RuPaul's Drag Race.

For someone who's terminally online and whose Instagram algorithm has decided that I'm a gay man (wrong) obsessed with demonic Chihuahuas (kinda correct) and camping (very correct), RuPaul's Drag Race has been peripherally in my online orbit for quite some time.

In 2024, we were watching my mother-in-law die of lung cancer. There had been a few touch-and-go years before that (especially with COVID, holy hell), but 2024 was the year that things took a turn for the worse and it and "getting better" turned into "learning how to say goodbye" before any of us were ready.

Here's a hint: you're never ever ever ever ready to say goodbye to a loved one.

So what does Mr. Charles and his show have to do with all this? My wife and I had been desperate for a lighthearted show that we could watch that doesn't ask much of us; that didn't require us to pay attention for clues or get have heavy themes that would weigh our hearts down even more. We needed something that brought some fucking joy to our life. I asked my wife, "You know, there's this show called RuPaul's Drag Race and it probably has the right amount of bitchy drama and nonsense to help us forget everything going on while we're watching it. Let's check it out."

That was towards the end of September 2024. And being the weirdos we are (but, it was really my insistence) we started at the beginning: Season 1.

Looking back (yeah, all the way back to 2024 lol), that first season is like some Twilight Zone shit. There's an awful filter over the whole thing, it looks like it was filmed in someone's garage with a goddamn flip phone , the judging standards (lolololololol like Ru's got any) were all over the map (like that's changed), and the stage was about ten feet of rickety pool deck nonsense.

And who the fuck invited Santino Rice?! Really, Ru?!!?

But it also had that kind of charm that can only come from someone who is clearly passionate about the project they wanted to see come to fruition but given such a limited budget. I can only imagine the zero-budget given to RuPaul after pitching the Top Chef of drag queens. Gurl.

For us, it hit like a sledgehammer of fun. The contestants were lovable freaks. Their talents were unquestionable. The drama was there, hunty! We were gagged and gooped, befuddled and beguiled by all that we had missed out. This shit had been airing since 2009?

It became our show. My wife fell in love with the queens, hated some, has become obsessed with a few, and I've just kind of fallen in love with what Ru likes to call the superpower of drag; how it draws out who we really are. That's what speaks to me on a fundamental level.

I obviously can't speak for the man, but I think this is where he's coming from: our artistic endeavors that make us feel alive - that make us think to ourselves, "This is what I was born to do!" - that's our superpower. For these queens and RuPaul, it's drag. Your art reveals who you are. It doesn't have to, but I think the best art is produced by people willing to be vulnerable with their audience and through that art a person's essence is revealed. It doesn't have to be writing, filmmaking, painting, photography... whatever. Do you crochet? There's a way to reveal who you are and come a live through that and share that with the universe. I truly believe that and when it comes to drag RuPaul is shouting from the rooftops his unwavering belief in this.

From a photography perspective, I apply this belief this way: I do come alive when photographing and sharing my perceptions of the world around me through the photos I take. Just like every queen's drag is different and unique to them, my vision is unique to myself. My photography is an amalgamation of my lived experience, my obsession with the notion that there is fundamental beauty in the ephemeral moments of our lives that are worth preserving; that the overlooked and often unconsidered things around us affect us in ways of which we aren't aware - and those are also worth capturing. That tree in your yard that was there before you moved in? Its sap attracts ants which attract birds to live in and its blooms attracted pollinators which also attract birds and the birds drop seeds which may introduce new plants to your yard and... maybe it's worth it to take a picture of that tree from far away, up-close of its bark and maybe you notice the geography of a particular piece of the tree looks just like an elbow of an arm and you sit and listen how the leaves rustle in the breeze and how maybe the way the branches move in unison with the breeze mimics a person rocking on their heels...

If you don't notice those things... who will?

My photos are what I notice in and about the people and things I love. My hope is that you... notice... that, at the very least.

Yeah, that's the power that gets unlocked when you do your art without fear. And without a profit-motive. Because I feel like the profit-motive shackles your practice to ensure you produce something that sells, rather than something that speaks to you.

Don't get me wrong! I'm not gatekeeping art creation. But removing the profit motive allows for a... purer art to be created.

Or maybe I'm naive and full of shit.

There's always that.

Ok. Back to Rupaul's Drag Race.

After the first season ended, we were hooked. Totally bought into the art of drag and the ridiculous shit being showcased on the show. So we watched the next season. And the next. And the next.

And then my wife said, "Oh... you know an all-stars season aired before the next season." So we watched that. And then she said, "You know, they had a season in the UK air between the season we're watching and the next all-stars but before the next US season."

And then: "And there's a Canadian version! And one for Down Under!"

And now here we are in 2026 having consumed almost 50 season of different iterations of Drag Race and my wife is a mini-encyclopedia of drag queen knowledge.

Drag race came into our life when we needed it most.

Our lives are all the richer and colorful for it.

And yes: we even needed it in Grenada.

Until next time, folks!

As always: this was written completely off the cuff with no plans. Any typos or other errors are due to a lack of planning and fingers flying across the keyboard.

So...