I’d never thought of myself as a drag queen. Being an emotionally repressed, shirt-and-shorts straight guy who’s into STEM, the idea hadn’t even crossed my mind. But when I started doing theater in high school and absentmindedly wrote “sure” on an audition form asking if I consented to dressing as the opposite gender, the cross-dressing starring role of the spring play was thrust upon me. As a relatively inexperienced actor, I was thrilled to be the lead, but frightened over what in the name of Thespis I was getting myself into.

In our production of Mark Twain’s Is He Dead?I was to become Jean-François Millet, a French painter who fakes his death and disguises himself as the Widow Tillou to increase the value of his paintings and escape his debts. To the great discomfort of both Millet and myself, we would spend most of the show squeezed into elaborate Victorian gowns. I started in practice heels and a hoop skirt and soon mastered sitting down without inadvertently flashing the stage manager.

The first time I wore a real dress, I tried putting it on like a t-shirt, got stuck, and broke the zipper trying to escape. To the surprise of none of the women around me, I found it stuffy and uncomfortable. Worst of all, my chest measurement sent to the costume rental company did not include my bandana-stuffed B-cups, and my bodice was always on the verge of bursting. Never again will I grumble about wearing a coat and tie.

Yet I loved those rehearsals. To play Millet, I immersed myself in my part like never before. I obsessively researched the actual Millet and his art and left-wing philosophy. Next I dove into two historic time periods: July Monarchy France and the lifetime of Mark Twain. To say my own name, I spent hours perfecting my French r’s. For fun, I studied Irish accents along with my Irishman-playing friend so we could have Irish conversations. If theater is all about reflecting reality, then it’s transcendent when it educates you about the real world. 

I even learned to enjoy my time in the Widow suit. In contrast with the melancholic hero Millet who gave me both an acting challenge and room for deep introspection, playing the whimsical and eccentric Daisy Tillou was liberating. Her boundless energy, constant faux pas, and pitched-up voice left endless room for exploration. And, I admit, there’s something just plain fun about wearing a dress.

Most rewarding of all, the Widow gave me the opportunity to make people laugh- one of the best parts about being alive. With their encouragement, I wore my widow suit with confidence and pride. 

I often say that I’m not passionate about acting, but I am passionate about theater. I loved it in the same way as a lead actor as when I was a spotlight operator. The magic of theater is that it gives you a new part of yourself. Once the show is over, you have to give it back, but some of it stays with you forever. What Is He Dead? gave me is personified in two characters. The bold, successful Widow Tillou reminds me not to take myself too seriously and to find whimsy and humor wherever I can, while the passionate artist Millet encourages me to be unapologetic in doing what I love and defending what matters to me. Even if I have to wear a dress