Dear Straight People -
If you cannot handle being in a gay bar, please don't go to one. We don't need you there, and there are millions of other places I'm sure you'd rather be like Fudruckers, TD's, or Hooters.
Please don't get me wrong, I love my straight friends and allies. I have nothing "against" straight people. Without them, none of us would be here, right? But there are those within the straight community who simply do not know how to handle themselves when "out of their element."
If you cannot handle being in a gay bar, please don't go to one. We don't need you there, and there are millions of other places I'm sure you'd rather be like Fudruckers, TD's, or Hooters.
Please don't get me wrong, I love my straight friends and allies. I have nothing "against" straight people. Without them, none of us would be here, right? But there are those within the straight community who simply do not know how to handle themselves when "out of their element."
What kind of hyper-small penis do you have that you apparently need to hit a woman to feel good about yourself? How thoroughly horrified of yourself and disgustingly insecure do you have to be to behave like a sub-human whilst out in a public place? It's not my fault that while I was walking throughout the incredibly packed bar I happened to walk past you and your girlfriend. It was incredibly needless of you to clothesline and headlock your "girl" and shove your tongue down her throat - if you wanted to indicate to me and the rest of the bar that she was indeed your property you could have just whipped out your chapstick sized dick and pissed on her. And by the way, I'm sure she was not only incredibly turned on but very grateful to you for tonguing her uvula. You created an awkward situation by being an aggressive neanderthal, and as I was the entertainer performing at that moment I tried to make light of the situation by asking if I could have a kiss too.
Mind you, I didn't ask your skantastic girlfriend. Why would I want to touch your anorexic mutant on the "coke diet" when I've got a much hotter, much sexier and much more attractive girlfriend of my own that I can have sex with at any time I'd like? I asked you. It was a *joke.* I suppose I should have just walked away when you said, "Get the fuck away from me," and by "said" I mean "drunkenly slurred with one eye half open..." Instead, I elected to try and quell your (internalized homophobic) fears and eplain to you "Dude, I'm a girl!" Call me naive, but "I don't fucking care what the fuck you are" followed by a punch to the face just didn't seem like a rational response.
I'd also like to thank you for swinging at my eye mask to guarantee I didn't actually see the punch coming - I mean, when hitting a woman isn't enough make sure you hit a half blind one, right?
As I'd never been struck before in the middle of performing Brittney Spear's "Circus" - or any performance, come to think of it - I have to say you caught me off-guard. So much so that all I managed to do was shake my rattling head like a cartoon character and wander away, trying to remember why I'd gone down to Tucson in the first place and CLEARLY remembering why I'd moved away. The incident with you caused me to have to hang on to the backs of a few chairs until my head cleared, thoroughly succeeding in causing me to miss out on the dollar bills waving in the air on the side of the bar I would not be able to walk to... oh, and I wasn't even able to get back to the stage for the end of the song. So, thanks for the new experience, the respect, and the appreciation.
In truth now I *would* like to thank the group of lesbians who were sitting by these heterosexual gems who gave him a hard time when they saw what happened. I'd also like to thank my little brother, Nicky, for making sure the intelligent and lovely breeders left the bar. I can't actually think of a time that *he* has ever stood up for *me* because until Friday night a situation calling for it had yet to arise. I don't believe any of the entertainers saw since they were in the hallway or in the trailer, and I know the bar staff was swamped and even Nicky didn't see what actually happened and only went after the guy after I'd told him.
An interesting situation indeed - many of the people in the crowd had never seen a "drag king" and had no idea who Anson Reign was. I didn't want their story to be "Oh yeah, I saw a drag king perform once. He got into a fistfight with a customer." Despite the fact that I don't live in Tucson and could probably survive sans another Colors booking ever (if I were to get 86'd for jumping an SOB, let's just say) I suppose I chose to remain professional regardless of being assaulted. It wasn't until I was standing in the trailer that I realized it made me feel terrible that I hadn't done anything about it. It made me feel meek and weak and unimportant and bullied and just like I used to feel in high school. And you know what? It felt awful. And on Pride weekend, too. Well, way to be reminded where my place is in this world as one of society's "less-than" members.
If this incident had occurred in Phoenix, I would've beat the shit out of the guy. And *then* he would have been attacked by a horde of angry drag kings, drag queens, and bar patrons, and his body parts split up and eaten to remove all evidence. Don't you dare come into *my* house, a "safe place," and put your god damned hands on me or any of my GLBT family. If you're that much of an ignorant child that you cannot handle being in a gay bar, I suggest you go to any of the thousand straight bars you can find in your neighborhood. It's not my fault you're wearing skinny jeans with your Michelob Ultra and your faux-hawk, you closeted idiot, don't take your self-hated out on me. ...fucker.
Mind you, I didn't ask your skantastic girlfriend. Why would I want to touch your anorexic mutant on the "coke diet" when I've got a much hotter, much sexier and much more attractive girlfriend of my own that I can have sex with at any time I'd like? I asked you. It was a *joke.* I suppose I should have just walked away when you said, "Get the fuck away from me," and by "said" I mean "drunkenly slurred with one eye half open..." Instead, I elected to try and quell your (internalized homophobic) fears and eplain to you "Dude, I'm a girl!" Call me naive, but "I don't fucking care what the fuck you are" followed by a punch to the face just didn't seem like a rational response.
I'd also like to thank you for swinging at my eye mask to guarantee I didn't actually see the punch coming - I mean, when hitting a woman isn't enough make sure you hit a half blind one, right?
As I'd never been struck before in the middle of performing Brittney Spear's "Circus" - or any performance, come to think of it - I have to say you caught me off-guard. So much so that all I managed to do was shake my rattling head like a cartoon character and wander away, trying to remember why I'd gone down to Tucson in the first place and CLEARLY remembering why I'd moved away. The incident with you caused me to have to hang on to the backs of a few chairs until my head cleared, thoroughly succeeding in causing me to miss out on the dollar bills waving in the air on the side of the bar I would not be able to walk to... oh, and I wasn't even able to get back to the stage for the end of the song. So, thanks for the new experience, the respect, and the appreciation.
In truth now I *would* like to thank the group of lesbians who were sitting by these heterosexual gems who gave him a hard time when they saw what happened. I'd also like to thank my little brother, Nicky, for making sure the intelligent and lovely breeders left the bar. I can't actually think of a time that *he* has ever stood up for *me* because until Friday night a situation calling for it had yet to arise. I don't believe any of the entertainers saw since they were in the hallway or in the trailer, and I know the bar staff was swamped and even Nicky didn't see what actually happened and only went after the guy after I'd told him.
An interesting situation indeed - many of the people in the crowd had never seen a "drag king" and had no idea who Anson Reign was. I didn't want their story to be "Oh yeah, I saw a drag king perform once. He got into a fistfight with a customer." Despite the fact that I don't live in Tucson and could probably survive sans another Colors booking ever (if I were to get 86'd for jumping an SOB, let's just say) I suppose I chose to remain professional regardless of being assaulted. It wasn't until I was standing in the trailer that I realized it made me feel terrible that I hadn't done anything about it. It made me feel meek and weak and unimportant and bullied and just like I used to feel in high school. And you know what? It felt awful. And on Pride weekend, too. Well, way to be reminded where my place is in this world as one of society's "less-than" members.
If this incident had occurred in Phoenix, I would've beat the shit out of the guy. And *then* he would have been attacked by a horde of angry drag kings, drag queens, and bar patrons, and his body parts split up and eaten to remove all evidence. Don't you dare come into *my* house, a "safe place," and put your god damned hands on me or any of my GLBT family. If you're that much of an ignorant child that you cannot handle being in a gay bar, I suggest you go to any of the thousand straight bars you can find in your neighborhood. It's not my fault you're wearing skinny jeans with your Michelob Ultra and your faux-hawk, you closeted idiot, don't take your self-hated out on me. ...fucker.
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