By Desirae Mack
October 11th, 2024: National Coming Out Day. A crisp Fall morning. In baggy cargo jeans, thrifted checkered grandpa sweater, and white platform Converse, I ventured from my apartment. In the Student Center Ballroom: doors with inflated rainbow archways, an assorted brunch buffet, glittering multicolor tinsel, a table of prideful paraphernalia. With just a tap of your student ID, you enter this magical kingdom for free! Inside, a diverse sea of students and staff mingled to the tunes of trending pop icons. Smells wafted from fresh pancakes and hot coffee. Everyone eagerly awaited their Bingo cards, ink daubers, and the host, Ophelia Bawdy.
Morristown High School was pretty diverse and inclusive, but we definitely didn’t have opportunities like this. Part of what drew me to studying Writing and Psychology at Rowan University was the reputedly thriving student life. This is one of the multitude of events I’ve since attended on my home-away-from-home’s campus. As a junior, I’ve been to many open mics, workshops, musical performances, festivals, and more. This is the second LGBTQ+ event I’ve been to after a freshman year interactive crafting and DIY night with a fellow queer friend.
So while this wasn’t my first rodeo, it was the first event I’d attended alone. I know, big whoop, but I’m a people person. A “social butterfly” type of person. Or rather, I’m a “hide my unease and insecurities in the comfort of being around others” type of person. Barely settled into my bisexual skin, such immersive cultural experiences were quite foreign to me. I’d soon realize having a few gay friends, kissing a few girls, and seeing a few episodes of RuPaul did not quite prepare me for this. Walking into the ballroom, I let out a sigh of relief, quickly spotting a peer from class who I knew would be attending this event as well.
“Is it cool if I sit here?” Beth nodded in confirmation as I snagged an open seat.
Also at the table was a young man who Beth didn’t seem to know either. As we all chatted and introduced ourselves, my stomach growled at the sight of their empty plates. I excused myself to visit the brunch buffet. I was immediately drawn in by the rainbow pancakes, each one a different color to make up a prideful multicolor assortment. I snagged a hot pink one (added syrup), a pastry, and some potatoes with ketchup. Back at the table, we were soon joined by more peers: a boy I recognized from my poetry class, his friend in a green hoodie with dark curly hair, and a non-binary identifying individual. I smiled at their head-to-toe rainbow clothing, earrings, and hair. I knew that going to the event alone didn’t mean I’d spend it alone, at least I’d hoped not. And I was right; conversation came more naturally than I anticipated. As we all chatted, I couldn’t help but scan the room and take it all in. I felt surrounded by similar peers but I noticed all different kinds of students: all genders, races, orientations, capabilities, appearances, personalities. All of us—here for different reasons, from different backgrounds—sat united under one roof for one event today.
After my colorful meal and more refreshing socializing, I suggested a trip to the table of free treasures. We made our way over to sort through rainbow stickers, pronoun buttons, and whatnot. I spun the display of pride flags, searching for the one with stripes of pink, purple, and blue. Finally finding one, I instinctively held it close.
“I’m not familiar with those colors,” Beth inquired from behind.
“Oh, they’re for bisexuality,” I explained.
“Ah, that’s cool!” She smiled, extending a comforting curiosity and reassurance. My heart warmed. ‘Tis the day to come out after all, I laughed to myself, even though I’m already technically out. Alas, it felt good again.
Such a simple exchange already put this day off to a good start. Eventually, the Drag Queen herself finally emerged to join our prideful celebration. She glistened in a black poofy dress with silver sparkles that looked almost like a loofah. Her teased hair rose high, daring to touch the ceiling, but her hair-sprayed bouncing curls were secured by red sparkly devil horns. Her skin gleamed with carefully crafted layers of foundation, eyeshadow, and lipstick. Having us nearly on the edge of our seats during sound checks, Ophelia commanded the room from the stage.
“Well, hello everyone! Who’s ready for some Bingo and to have their socks knocked off…or panties?!”
We quickly lost ourselves in the first two rounds, cackling at perfectly timed and relevant jokes. Her frequent pop culture references were met with roars of laughter and cheer. After the first two winners collected their prizes, our gorgeous host announced it was time for her first performance of the afternoon.
“Who here is a Drag Virgin?” she polled, and I laughed while joining the many raised arms. “Now, who here is a Drag Veteran?” to which fewer students raised their hands. “Well, it looks like I’m about to pop a lot of cherries!”
Words cannot describe the magic of watching a Drag Queen run around a room of grateful adolescents, lip syncing, acting, dancing, and even stripping down a few layers. Consider my cherry popped! I immediately recognized the voices of a few popular artists like Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, and more. Ophelia’s black bath sponge was soon traded in for a sleek long-sleeved dress and then, for a shimmering rainbow bodysuit atop black fishnets. My jaw dropped at her synthetic cleavage and accentuated hips. It was a crazy transition from all of that chaos to three more rounds of Bingo. At this point, around noon, I decided to sacrifice my first tutoring session of the day—not for the game but for the art of Drag. After all, the event was just getting good. She kept us on our toes with unmatched humor, fascinating stories, vulnerability, witty charm, and devilish good looks. No, I did not win a single round or any raffles. But who cares?! I still won the day! As we cleaned up, I invited Beth to stay after for a photograph with the Queen herself. Many others did as well. We all lined up eagerly, smiles plastered that weren’t just for the cameras but to mark how joyous we all were in that moment. A community of Rowan students, of LGBTQ+ and allies, of young men and women, of people. People in wheelchairs, people with colorful hair, with service dogs, mom jeans, nose piercings, and Drag obsessions. People with a desire to be seen and heard, to belong to a community, to immerse ourselves in such a shared experience on this sunny Fall afternoon. Wow, what had I been missing all this time?
Happy National Coming Out Day, indeed! My heart must’ve turned every shade of rainbow that day.
Desirae Mack is a bisexual writer from North (New) Jersey in the U.S., pursuing an accelerated masters degree in Writing Arts while also studying Psychology and Publishing. She lives on campus, writing and performing poetry, tutoring at the Writing Center, crafting, cooking, staying active, and trying to positively impact her community.
Featured image: Desiree, left, with Queen and friend