kings and not girls
by gabe montesanti
A bag of communion wafers hanging from a robe.
A week before Easter, I was booked for a drag show, and one of the other performers brought a pouch of communion wafers. He dressed in holy vestments. He powdered his face with gold glitter. "Where did you get those?" we wanted to know. All three of us in the dressing room had grown up Catholic. All there of us wanted a taste, just to see if it was any different now that we were kings, and not girls.
Crumpled ones, a cross, and drag makeup on a dressing room counter.
Some of us were never girls, though that's not what they told us. Some of us are still being told who and what we are, and that God doesn't make mistakes. These people control access to the things we need to feel at home in ourselves. They don't want their kids to know we exist, or where to find us if they realize they're like us. They can't stand to see us wearing crowns.
A hand extending a holy wafer to cupped hands with long, green nails
I'm not Catholic anymore, but in some ways, I think I'm still all the things I've been. I extended my hands to receive communion before taking the stage, and I crossed myself, as I'd learned to do in church. Maybe it's muscle memory. Maybe this ritual is a way of reminding myself where I am now, like the cold water I splash on my face every morning. Or maybe part of me still believes in God, just not the God who hates me and the other people in the dressing room. My God knows what I know, which is that there's something holy about us, too.
about the creator
A queer person with shoulder-length brown hair, pink lips, and purple eyeshadow.
Gabe Montesanti is the author of the roller derby memoir, BRACE FOR IMPACT (2022). Her work has been published in HuffPost, LitHub, Creative Nonfiction Magazine, Electric Literature, and Brevity. Her essay, “The Worldwide Roller Derby Convention” was recognized as a notable essay in The Best American Essays 2020. Gabe is currently at work on an illustrated memoir about performing drag.