Drag Artists Defy Laws, Logic, and Bad Fashion Sense by Simply Existing

In a stunning turn of events that absolutely no one saw coming, drag artists in Austin have decided to—wait for it—keep existing. That’s right, folks. Despite the best efforts of certain pearl-clutching legislators who apparently have nothing better to do than police wigs and sequins, these performers are still here, still fierce, and still refusing to apologize for being fabulous.

Take Bobby Pudrido, for example. This drag king—yes, kings exist too, shocker—has taken the bold stance of checks notes wanting to safely exist in public without being harassed over their ID. Radical, I know. Bobby, whose name translates to "rotten" (a mood we all relate to after reading the news), is out here living their truth while lawmakers are busy debating whether drag is a gateway drug to… joy? Freedom? Good taste? Who knows.

Then there’s Vylette Ward, who testified against anti-drag legislation only to discover that lawmakers had the attention span of a goldfish on espresso. Undeterred, Vylette continues to slay, because what else are you supposed to do when the government would rather debate your right to exist than fix, say, the power grid? Priorities, people.

And let’s not forget Juliana Ross, whose drag name is a tribute to his mother’s unrealized dream of having a daughter. It’s almost as if drag is about storytelling, creativity, and personal expression—but sure, let’s call it "indecent" because some politician’s fragile ego can’t handle a well-contoured cheekbone.

The takeaway? Drag artists are here, they’re queer, and they’re not going anywhere—no matter how many poorly written bills get tossed their way. So if you’re a lawmaker still clutching your pearls, maybe take Vylette’s advice and actually attend a drag show. Who knows? You might learn something. Or at least finally understand what a tuck is.

In the meantime, the rest of us will be over here, tipping our favorite performers and laughing at the absurdity of it all. Because if there’s one thing drag teaches us, it’s that life’s too short to take seriously—especially when you’re wearing six-inch heels.