Kim Chi’s confessions were both powerful, and absolutely terrifying for me to witness. And when asked about her sex life, Kim Chi revealed that she was still a virgin. She confessed that she continues to hide her drag identity from her mother, whom she is determined not to disappoint. As a former 350lb “weird art kid”, she recalled strangers refusing to sit next to her on the bus. And America was watching.Īs Kim Chi opened up about her past, she gained some much-needed dimension. As such, her talent has afforded her a power and social currency in the drag world that appeared almost at odds with her other attributes.
Evident in her every look was an imaginative, otherworldly spectacle. Regardless, no one could deny Kim Chi's clear visual prowess. Moreover, Judge Michelle Visage’s reductive declaration, “you’re just a total nerd," on episode one, didn’t do much to undermine the archetype. Within the first two episodes, judges, past winners, and fellow queens had gratuitously used the term, "anime" to describe her ensemble.
#Kim chi drag queen tv
At the onset, she seemed to check every box of a castable Asian TV personality: awkward and culturally alien, with a thick lisp and dance skills reminiscent of someone with “two left feet and vertigo”, to directly quote Bob the Drag Queen. Her journey, however, was far from seamless. Kim Chi was recently selected as a season 8 finalist, along with NYCs coveted comedian, Bob the Drag Queen, and fishy sweetheart, Naomi Smalls. Kim Chi has been internationally lauded for her bold, high concept artistry, and arresting Leigh Bowery-esque looks. The cosmo in question, Kim Chi, is a 7' tall South Korean self-proclaimed "live action anime character and high fashion model", who's unparalleled artistic genius was no secret when she first hit the stage of RuPaul's Drag Race this season. The drag universe has undergone a similar makeover, thanks to one shining star. That night, I scampered home, still smoking from his gaze. At once, I had become completely visible and legible to him. I remember his face bursting from astonishment to delight, as he bellowed a deep-bellied "Ha!" I was electrified. And without thinking, I said “have a good night”, in my usual baritone. The florist, a particularly handsome bear, was hosing down the sidewalk. It was a late weeknight, and the 18th & Castro intersection was desolate, save for a small florist’s shop.
My first time in drag, the world changed. And what hurt the most, wasn’t the rejection itself, but the feeling that this alienation went so casually unacknowledged by the rest of the gay community. Older gay men were quick to remind me that they “don’t do Asians”, or that “no one wants a squishy gook”- all testament to the fact that my race precluded me from love, and the validation and community for which I yearned as a teenager.Įarly on, it became quite clear to me that I had escaped the closet, only to embrace a different breed of isolation. A sneaking sense of invisibility followed me into the bars, where I seldom blipped radars. Growing up, Asian men had always been mysteriously absent from gay movies, books, and flyers. My way of gaining it all back, was by being out, by being loud, and by being unquestionably seen.īut despite my efforts, I wasn’t always seen. Even at age 13, I felt I had already lost so many years of my life to the closet. I snuck into gay bars, shoplifted gay porn, and managed to funnel every conversation into a cheeky sexual joke. Overnight, I donned ostentatious rainbow accessories. As a teenager in San Francisco, my coming out was not a delicate process.
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