Kind of a Drag
I heard on NPR, one recent morning, about Idaho lawmakers taking action to ban public presentations by drag queens, including—but not limited to—drag shows for kids. Supervised by parents.
That same morning, I also heard about a six-year-old in Virginia who brought a gun to school and shot his teacher.
In November, I heard about a shooting in an LGBTQ+ nightclub in Colorado that left five people dead.
I not suggesting these two shootings are related. But bear with me just a moment.
In the past few months, I’ve read several news articles about a movement across the country to prohibit drag queens from reading to kids in public libraries. A movement apparently meant to protect children from deviant sexual behavior.
In the past few years, I’ve seen photographs and video footage of people convening in public spaces with big guns strapped to their bodies. Sometimes there is shooting. Sometimes not.
I am a heterosexual cis-gender woman. I am not offended in the least by drag queens, drag shows, or anybody reading children’s literature to kids in a public library. I raised three children, all born in Louisiana. We spent many years in New Orleans where, as a family, we attended Mardi Gras festivities. Under parental supervision, my kids were most definitely exposed to drag queens in full regalia.
I never took my kids to a rally where obviously armed protestors were in abundance.
Parents who supervise their children make choices for them every day. (Parents who don’t supervise their children, likewise, make a choice for them, but that’s a horse of a different color.) By definition, children absorb lessons—overt or covert— from parental choices.
If my children were exposed to age-appropriate literature by a car mechanic covered in grease, a First Lady championing nationwide literacy, a retired grandma, an off-duty cop, a clown, or any other literate lover of the written word, I’d feel they were absorbing something worthwhile. If my kids had questions about the presenter, I’d do my best to answer honestly and respectfully.
If my children were exposed to the public display of guns (which, generally speaking, they were not) I know they would have absorbed different lessons than they would in library story hours. I would have trouble answering their questions about firearms. I could probably talk about the use of guns for hunting, whether for food or sport. But the use of guns to shoot people is a far more delicate proposition. I chose to shield my children from exposure to guns.
All three of my children grew up to be self-sufficient productive members of society. They care about what happens to humans in general and do what they can to protect the planet. They are decent people. Whether or not there is a direct correlation between their decency and their upbringing, I cannot say for certain. I like to think so.
I don’t know what happened in that six-year-old’s life that inspired him to take a gun to school and shoot his teacher. I rather doubt it was because he attended a drag show in a public space. Under parental supervision.
I am not trying to imply any relationship between gun ownership and disdain for drag shows. I am merely suggesting that we, as a society, should pick our battles carefully. The swashbuckling display of firearms seems a far more insidious danger to our nation’s children than stories read aloud by drag queens. Commanding respect with the threat of firepower feels far more sinister than any sexual innuendo, real or imagined, from a man in drag.