Well met, ladies and gentlemen! Wow, that’s a weird way to introduce a blog, huh? So, my name is Johnny and uh…yeah, this is my Thang. Actually it’s not MY Thang. I didn’t actually invent this look. No matter how hard I would have you try to believe it, I did NOT invent cross-dressing. Men have been cross-dressing for as long as societies have had dress codes. Boys dress like boys, meaning they wear pants. Girls dress like girls, meaning they wear dresses. And if you’re a boy and you like to wear dresses, that’s a BIG no-no and you were referred to as a cross-dresser. So even though I call myself the “Godmother of Thang”, I can’t claim any sort of creative license over the look. Nor did I perfect it, as you can see by some of my photos.
Nice wrinkles, Johnny! Ever heard of an iron?
Nope, contrary to popular belief, cross-dressing was here WAAAAAAAY before any of us were. And just like WAAAAAAY too many years ago, it’s also frowned upon in this day and age. So don’t get into this Thang unless you expect to be frowned upon, if not worse! Hey, it’s even in the Bible, so it has to be law, right?
Prada sent me to Hell!
So what is this Thang anyway? What is a “Thang,” or a “Drag Thang,” if you will? Well, before we get into what it is, maybe we should start with what it isn’t. (BTW, please forgive all the demonic, face-less photos. You know, artistic license and all that!)
You know that show you saw on Broadway last year, starring that one guy that you love so much? You know the guy: He does a female impersonator show that makes him look more woman than most women you know, with his kinky boots and his Liza Minnelli crooning. Fabulous as he is, Thang ain’t that.
Uh-uh, honey!
Or how about that one show that used to be on VH1: You know the one with all the pretty boys in their outlandish wigs and over-the-top makeup competing for prizes while all of America applauds. Brave as they may be, Thang ain’t that either.
Nope!
Or how about that parade in West Hollywood with everybody bouncing down the street with their fake boobs and press-on nails. Go on and be proud of yourself boys, but Thang ain’t that either.
Gurl, bye!
No, the difference between a Drag Queen and a Drag Thang lies in the presentation…or, more accurately, the complete lack thereof. You see, a Drag Thang isn’t out to put on a show for anyone. Whereas a queen wants the whole world to see him, a Thang doesn’t give a flying you-know-what if anyone sees him or hears him or even likes him. I believe the term screenwriters use is, LESS IS MORE.
Seriously, what’s so WOMANISH about this?
So let’s ditch the eyelashes and the nylons and the hairspray and the peacock strut. We’re not here to put on a show for you, my boy. We keep our mouths shut and we focus on the task at hand. We are bringing cross-dressing to the MASSES. We are the Everyman in high heels: Taking the fabulous and making it pedestrian!
Can’t get much more basic than this, huh?
But we are interested in a few accent pieces that can only belong to a female. Let me say that again, “A few pieces that can ONLY belong to a female. A few accessories that the female of the Species can claim exclusive rights to.” Big, long earrings in both ears, handbags, maybe an occasional skirt or sarong and last, but certainly not least, the 👡👡👡!
OK, I’m pretty sure these look womanish!
But at the end of the day, a Drag Thang always looks like a MAN. We aren’t interested in being or even looking like an actual female. You don’t have to give up football or red meat or muscle-building. Stubble, ripped jeans, flannel shirt? Yes, sir! If Joe the Plumber decided to slap on a few decorations, this is what he would look like. He’s big and he’s sloppy and he cares more about his feel-goods than your opinion.
Some will say we go too far; others will say we don’t go far enough. During one heartbreaking audition I had many moons ago, my Less-Is-More approach cost me a major role as a drag performer. The casting director’s exact words were, “There’s just something…MISSING!” Which is Laymen Speak for I just wasn’t fabulous enough. I wasn’t so over-the-top and fierce and loud. Just not…QUEEN enough. But that’s what our whole argument is all about, isn’t it? The whole look, the whole style is about the something that’s missing.
The only thang missing here is a vagina!
And me? What’s my role in all this? Well, the one thang I want to be known for more than anything else is being the one who assigned this style its proper name. Before the terms “Thang” or “Drag Thang” showed up, half-cross-dressing never really had a formal name. Half-Dressers never really had a flag to unite under…until NOW!
Half-Dressers, UNITE!
I want history to remember me as the one who brought cross-dressing out of the cabaret shows and into the football stadiums and the grocery stores and the laundromats.
Once upon a time, I thought “John the Namer” was a cool moniker. But the “Godmother of Thang” works just as well! So in conclusion, my little ones, listen to your Godmother: We Thangs are all about the Female’s decorations, but we’re not interested in actually being her. It would take a lot more than a pair of earrings and platform heels for that to happen! So what do you say, fellas? Eh? Let’s raise our fists and get this Thang-volution off the ground, shall we? The Anti-Fabulous shall rise!✊✊✊
Sincerely,
Johnny Cotton
