Imagine the most unexpected thing you’ve seen or heard at a drag show—that bravery to push the envelope has kept drag queens on stage and in the cultural conversation. Historically, it was not only common but expected for men to be “female impersonators” in Shakespearean plays, Kabuki theatre, Peking opera, and more. The villainization of cross-dressing began as an outgrowth of an increasingly repressive approach to gender and sexuality, though the rebellious tradition has always found a way. Like most entertainment we consume, we can thank people of color for drag as we know it. They hosted their own drag balls while they themselves were shunned by their white counterparts. These balls created safe spaces for Black, Latino, gay, and transgender communities long before Madonna, RuPaul, and mainstream media propelled the narrative. While drag has evolved, what has not changed is its ability to challenge gender norms through multidimensional art. It’s through this creative expression that someone like Kevyn from Baton Rouge can become the New Orleans queen, Miss Laveau Contraire, who embraces every aspect of the art to tell her story. Through handmade costumes and intentional lyrics, she uses joy and comedy to find connection. And like many queens throughout history, she often takes to the stage to advocate for the community and raise funds for local nonprofits. Over the last decade Laveau Contraire has performed regularly in the New Orleans drag scene and internationally with the queer wrestling troupe CHOKE HOLE, each act helping to shape drag representation in the city and beyond. I had the best time sitting down with Laveau Contraire, getting to learn more about her relationship with drag, the evolution of the scene, and what messages she uses her platform to amplify.
Take me back to your first introduction to drag.
I think the first time I saw a drag queen was one of my first times at a gay bar, and so I just saw a tower of drag and [was] in a whole new world. And of course [RuPaul’s] Drag Race put a comfortable distance between drag, where I could understand what it was. I was able to see, oh this is fun, this is an art form that I think I could do something with. I saw that there was this online competition called Tumblr’s Drag Race—if you know what Tumblr is, I’m so sorry! It was geared towards baby queens with the idea that this would help them get good at drag [and go] out in the world. So I did that. I won, and I was like: Maybe I could take this show on the road? And that was fun, it really got me ready, [even if] I still looked crazy as a baby drag queen. Nowadays, makeup has come so far that people can start [doing] drag and not look like absolute shit.
Was Tumblr before you moved to New Orleans, and how did that move impact you?
That was when I moved to New Orleans. 2015 was my “bedroom drag year” and 2016 is when I was out and about on the scene. I chose the name Laveau because I wanted a magical, witchy name. I’m a very spiritual, woo-woo girly, so I went with Laveau like Marie Laveau. And apparently the last name [is needed] so I added Contraire like “au contraire.” Kevyn is from Baton Rouge, but Laveau is from New Orleans. She was born here, she’s a product of the culture here, and it has definitely shaped my drag and who I am. This city has always been this magical, far-off place. When I was little everyone was like: New Orleans is scary, is this, is that. But I [also] heard about the jazz and all of the cool things. So when I finally was an adult and able to experience it for myself I was like: OK, there’s crime, but everywhere there’s crime. You’ve been hiding this amazing city from me!
Did coming to New Orleans feel like the opportunity to really be all that?
Absolutely! I can walk down the street in full drag and nobody bats an eye. Everybody here looks crazy and wears costumes on any given day for a second line, for a parade, for a party. Everybody’s got a hot glue gun and some fabric lying around, so it just feels like such a creative place. I’m also a music-driven person. I went to school for music, so just being in the city full of musicians here and ready to work—it’s just a beautiful place to create and be an artist.
Were there any specific New Orleans artists/queens that influenced you?
I never had a drag mom, someone telling me I could or couldn’t do whatever I want with my art, but I had a bunch of aunties. Dominique DeLorean, Mercedez [Ellis] L’Oreal, and Nicole Lynn Foxx would take me under their wing and say, “I see what you’re doing but let’s fix this, let’s do that, let’s tweak this.” And it really helped me learn the ropes, just watching them on stage and how they carried themselves. Of course we’re playing dress-up, but this is also a livelihood for a lot of these girls—myself included now. You could tell there was something more to it than just putting on clothes and a wig and twirling around for a few minutes.
Laveau Contraire performs in June (Pride) during a weekly drag brunch series at Saint John in the CBD.
What are some ways that you’ve incorporated the community into your drag?
I feel like [drag queens are] the mascots of the queer community in a sense: We’re visible, we’re big, you’re gonna see us first in the Pride parade, so it kinda has this built-in platform. I personally feel the need to use that power for good and remind people to vote and speak about things that people need to bring attention to. I raise money for cancer research every year around Southern Decadence, which is an event of [debauchery], but now we’re raising money. For Hurricane Ida, we had a little block party on St. Claude [and] did events just to raise money for the performers, because we were out of work when everything got cancelled. And for COVID we did cyber-distancing with [fellow drag performer] Tarah Cards. It’s very community-minded.
How have you seen the scene evolve?
Back in the day, it was scandalous if you were not doing pageant-type drag. Now we’ve sort of bridged that gap, which I love. Now you’ll see glamor, pageant, dripping in jewels, and you’ll also see freaky, weird, conceptual drag all in the same show. And that’s the two sides of my brain combined! Now, queens that I never would have expected have launched bearded drag careers. Also, as Drag Race gets more popular, it means more people want to go to drag shows in person. There will always be just Drag Race fans, but the true drag fans will go out to their local scenes and see what the girls are doing over there. So we’re seeing more acceptance all around, for drag kings and all types of drag.
And have you seen any evolution in the topics or messages that drag is sending?
I just heard someone say, people don’t come to drag shows to hear about politics, they come here to forget about the world and have a good time for a little while. But I’ve also always been of the mind that drag is political. Even if you’re not a political queen, just existing in public in drag is a political statement, whether you like it or not. In this world we’re living in where drag is being legislated against, I think that I have a duty to at least poke fun. Obviously know your audience, know your setting, and know where to push the line. But there are ways. I have seen an evolution as the world has gotten more political—not that it ever wasn’t—but more performers are putting their messages in their art. There are levels and deeper layers to it but it’s always got a message, even if it’s the shallowest of shallow.
How have you used drag to reflect your personal story?
Sometimes drag is just slipping into another human perspective. I might not have a scorned lover, but I can access a time where I did. There’s so many times where whatever I’m going through in life finds its way to the stage. I [also] love working some current events into my drag. I host the comedy show at Oz every Thursday called the “New Orleans’ Queers of Comedy” and it’s every week, so if there’s something happening, I’m probably gonna talk about it. Katy Perry going into space—I did a number about that! It’s fun to do the topical storytelling because if it’s in the mind of everyone it’s kind of like a light bulb goes off when they get to see it come to life on stage. The Sewerage and Water Board as well, which that piece has been updated like three times because there keeps being more controversy. I love that whether it’s something happening in the world or in my life, [I’m] using the stage as a sort of playground.
And you create a lot of your own pieces, right—like music and costumes?
If music is not a part of my life then I don’t know if I’ll be able to live. I just need it! I was a music major who taught music in schools but always wanted to be a pop star. I found that drag was the perfect art form that fits all of my different interests together. I love to do photography, to make music. I love to dress up and make costumes. So for me it’s perfect because there’s always something that I’m interested in and want to do.
You’ve also performed with CHOKE HOLE and gone overseas. How was that experience, especially in comparison to your work in the states?
CHOKE HOLE is amazing. I literally used to play wrestling games as a kid, and have female characters that I would play with and I was like: Wait a second—I’m doing that right now. Thanks, universe! But anyway, they got invited to do a documentary by someone who had connections in Germany and they wanted to bring us out to do CHOKE HOLE. [Which] has been going so well that they just invited us back for the next three years. That’s crazy!
It’s been eye-opening because that’s the first time I’ve ever been out of the country to do drag and I was like: Maybe everything I’ve been told about America is a lie. We’re told that we’re the greatest country ever and that everything’s so amazing, but they have free healthcare. The streets were clean. I didn’t see police unless they were at the station. So it was eye-opening to think that there are places that have a sense of caring for their people. Obviously they have their problems too, and everywhere is dealing with their own conservative crisis. The drag is similar to here: They have a lot of live singing, and seem a bit more into the weird stuff and not just the glamor. So that was interesting!
Laveau Contraire performs with Otto Von Blotto and Virginia SlimJim as part of an original show called CHOKE HOLE TV performed at Kampnagel in Hamburg, Germany. (photo by Julia Schwendner)
Are there any particular “I did this” moments you’ve had in your career?
On a larger level, inspiring people to break the rules a little bit more. Drag itself is a big “F U” to gender roles. On paper, I shouldn’t be successful doing what I’m doing, [but] it’s all because I decided that I can put on and act and say and do whatever I want. So if I can do all of this, then you can do that. What queerness gives us is a gift, but if I have a microphone and the ability to say something, I’m gonna remind you: Hey girl, don’t ever think you’re gonna be too overdressed. Life’s too short, wear the flowers in your hair.
You can catch Miss Laveau Contraire on Thursdays at Oz for “Queers of Comedy” and Fridays at the Golden Lantern for “That’s Drag!” as well as brunches, burlesque shows, and more. For more info check out laveaucontraire.com.
Top photos: Laveau Contraire performs in June (Pride) during a weekly drag brunch series at Saint John in the CBD. (photos by Katie Sikora)
illustration by Benjamin Slater
