When I was born my parents gave me a drag name. Without realizing it, they followed the rules of the drag name game by naming me after their beloved cat who had recently passed.
Sarah was a beautiful, but mean cat. She had long white fur and used to trap their other cat, Shotsi, in the cupboard under the sink until they would discover her pawing quietly at the heavy wooden doors. Shotsi was the nice one, and rarely complained.
When I asked about it, my notorious namesake - gee, guys why did you have to name me after the mean cat? - they sheepishly replied that they loved Sarah and something something about her strong personality.
And so the personhood and persona of “Sarah” were born, determining a path long before my real personality started to show, with subconscious memories of their haughty cat intermixing with other references to the name like Sarahs my parents knew in high school, or Sarah from the Bible, who could not have babies herself but fed thousands from her breasts in response to a sort of dare from her husband.(At least that’s what I remember about it.) Sarah = generous, powerful, mean perhaps.
When born we are all loaded with baggage and contexts that have nothing to do with who we are at our core. This is universally true, and as far as I can tell unavoidable. Much like pets, whose significance in our hearts and our lives reach far beyond the silly names we give them like Jelly Bean or Warffles, we are not soley defined by our silly little names. Shakespeare grappled with this same question, always well before his time. In Romeo & Juliet he wrote:
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title.
Romeo, doff thy name; And for that name, which is no part of thee, Take all myself.
I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I’ll be new baptiz’d; Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
Romeo and Juliet are not a great example of where that might lead, but Shakespeare shows us in their youthful passion they get it - that names and labels aren’t that big of a deal in the grand scheme of the cosmos. Call me but love. The only thing that matters is love, and following the divine spark that guides us where we need to go.
And yet, it’s hard to deny the power of a name. Even in this dialogue, Romeo talks about being baptized with his new name. Names hold energy. Often psychics use a person’s full name to tap into their energy and their history. Listen to Jessica Lanyadoo do just this on her podcast and it will blow your mind.
Since going through these early stages of transition, I have often wondered, what energy does my new name hold versus that of my birth name? What role will Sarah play going forward, and how should I treat talk about her to people I’ve just met, in artist talks, in conversation with family? How do I think about her going forward?
In the trans community, it is common to call your given name that you no longer use a “dead name.” I have always cringed at the finality and harshness of that term - as if you have murdered your past self, who did nothing but be born and exist in order for someone to name them. A more positive association might be the term deadheading, which is the act of pruning of a flower to encourage more growth and ultimately more blossoms. I like the idea of removing an aspect of our past in order to make room for something beautiful and new, but still. What happens to Sarah and the memories of this given name? I, unlike Romeo, have the rest of my life to live where I must contend with both selves.
As I was mulling this over last night, I thought about the version of me that was there all the time, dressing a part, performing a persona. Then it came to me, as Sarah I was in drag. Sarah was my drag name.
To avoid confusion, I am not saying that being trans is like doing drag, but I think there can be a lot to learn about gender fluidity from drag that we can take with us into civilian life. By changing the outside you can change the way people see you. You can play up certain parts of yourself, minimizing others that aren’t as fun. As RuPaul says, we are all born naked and the rest is drag. By that he means we all dress to affirm the identity we want to share with the world, but it’s not set in stone.
Instead of having this persona that I’m embarrassed of, laden with heaviness or regrets, thinking of “Sarah” as my drag persona adds a layer of playfulness to it, and pokes fun at the absurdity of gender conformities. I don’t pretend to really understand the way the gender spectrum works or why trans people exist at all, but we do. So being more gentle with Sarah allows for a gentleness and an openness with my past and the part of me that she embodied. In many ways she was me, and is still is me - or maybe I am her, the way that Superman is also Clark Kent but not the other way around.
Happy trans day of visibility to all who celebrate. May you feel surrounded by supporters and support. If you are a trans person who has thoughts about this, I am looking to give platforms to artists within the community who want to share their story or their view of what it is to be trans now. Please reach out to thesidewoo at gmail dot com.
If you’re looking to donate to an organization that supports trans rights, consider The Intentional Man Project, the ACLU, or The Gender Liberation Movement.