How a SLO drag king put self-expression center stage. ‘Drag can be so many things’

Editor’s Note: Drag performer Gray Gautereaux contributed to this reporting as part of The Tribune’s Diversity Storytelling Project — a partnership with the Diversity Coalition where we tell stories in partnership with members of underrepresented communities in SLO County.

When drag artist Gray Gautereaux was about 10 years old, they looked in the mirror and thought, “I would be a really pretty boy.”

At 16, they cut their hair short, which opened the door to exploring different styles and expressions — all with the goal of finding a presentation, a posture, a way of moving through the world that matched their inner self.

“It’s a constant cycle of getting confused, getting curious, experimenting, discovering something euphoric that I want to hold on to, and then continuing to grow and allowing that cycle to ebb and flow,” said Gautereaux, who was assigned female at birth.

“I don’t identify as male or female,” they added. “I’m just me.”

As a genderfluid person, Gautereaux enjoys dressing in both masculine and feminine ways while bending traditional style rules to present however they feel on a given day.

Gautereaux, who is 25 and lives in San Luis Obispo, performed in drag for the first time about two years ago. The experience deepened their understanding of their identity while connecting them with a vibrant community.

With the goal of making drag art more accessible and supportive, Gautereaux has since co-founded the House of Mello-Havoc, a collective of eight drag artists who perform regularly in San Luis Obispo.

They hope to expand the Central Coast’s drag scene at a time when politicians nationwide are passing laws designed to block the rights of LGBTQ+ people and drag performers.

As of Wednesday, lawmakers in Minnesota, Missouri, Ohio, South Carolina and Tennessee all were considering bills that restrict drag performance, according to the American Civil Liberties Union.

“People are trying to legislate our existence,” Gautereaux said. “And so just doing drag, whether you’re a political person or not, when you get up on that stage, and you claim your identity in that way, it’s a political act.”

Even in San Luis Obispo, a group of LGBTQ+ event organizers received threats for hosting all-ages drag shows in 2022.

“There are people in power who have worked hard to sensationalize and demonize drag, and I’m telling you now that those people are lying,” Gautereaux said. “Out of drag, these performers are just normal people. You run into them every day without knowing it and without incident — not because we are hiding some evil secret, but because we are truly just normal people trying to create space for joy, connection and celebration.”

Considering the political landscape, The Tribune reached out to Gautereaux to enlist them in our ongoing Diversity Storytelling Project. The project aims to raise the voices of underrepresented members of our community by having them share their daily experiences in their own words.

Over the course of a month, Gautereaux sat down with The Tribune to talk about the House of Mello-Havoc and the evolution of the San Luis Obispo drag scene — and to introduce us to their drag persona: Jackson Havoc.

Through it all, one theme was clear: Drag performance offered Gautereaux an environment in which they could explore their identity in a creative, supportive space.

“To me, drag is an opportunity to explore my personal identity while creating art that is meant to move people,” Gautereaux said. “Drag can be so many things — it’s a medium for exploration, introspection, play, self-expression, art and community building. It is really wonderful that there are people in this world who come together to celebrate and craft entire cultures around authentic and enthusiastic self-expression.”

Gender expression outside of drag

Gautereaux got their start in LGBTQ+ community organizing as a teenager, when they founded their high school’s first ever gay-straight alliance in a small Nevada town.

“From a young age, I had a calling to queer identity and advocacy,” they wrote in a journal entry shared with The Tribune. “I fought to cut my hair short for the first 16 years of my life and was always drawn to bold fashion that helped me reflect a unique sense of self.”

When Gautereaux went to college, they found a community of other LGBTQ+ students who encouraged them to further embrace their queer identity. At their university, Gautereaux led initiatives to educate students about HIV and AIDS prevention, work that was recognized by the National AIDS Memorial Grove.

Now, when Gautereaux isn’t performing, they work a regular, 40-hour-a-week office job.

As a genderfluid person, Gautereaux dresses differently depending on the day. Some days, they’ll wear a wig and a full face of makeup, while other days they adopt a more masculine style — all with the goal of presenting their most authentic self to others.

When their presentation matches their identity, they experience gender euphoria.

“Gender euphoria is very much an experience of, the way I feel I am on the inside is being perfectly and accurately presented on the outside,” they said. “I feel like a badass. I feel super stylish and energetic and like someone with a lot of presence and command.”

Still, they work to maintain a consistent identity in the workplace so their coworkers and clients can easily recognize them.

“I can’t really experiment when I’m showing up to my day job 40 hours a week,” they said. “You want consistency in those kinds of environments, and you don’t want people to feel confused or shocked or uncertain.”

That’s why they enjoy the freedom of drag performance. On stage, they can explore bolder styles and presentations, they said.

How a SLO drag king got their start

Drag queens — in all of their glittery glory — have gained mainstream popularity through TV shows like ”RuPaul’s Drag Race.” But drag art also includes a diversity of gender expressions not always shown on screen.

Drag performers build a persona and bring them to life on stage with costumes and choreography. A drag persona can be masculine, feminine or anywhere in between, and it doesn’t necessarily match the performer’s gender identity when they’re off stage.

About two years ago, drag kings started to gain popularity in the San Luis Obispo drag scene.

In 2022, Gautereaux signed up to perform in a novice drag show hosted by Art and Soul SLO, a nonprofit that organizes LGBTQ+ events.

Flaunting ‘90s dreamboat hair and a goatee, Gautereaux debuted their drag persona during that pivotal performance: Jackson Havoc, a punk rocker with an attitude.

His tagline? “The king of kicking over trash cans and hitting on your mom.”

Gautereaux modeled Jackson Havoc after punk icons like Sid Vicious and Billie Joe Armstrong, mixed with ‘90s heartthrobs like Leonardo DiCaprio.

“I really just started from: What version of masculinity do I want to play with and stomp around in?” Gautereaux said. “I wanted to be this snot-nosed punk boy because I love ‘90s punk music, and there’s just an attitude to that that I — as someone who was assigned female at birth — didn’t really get to experiment with in that same way.”

At the show, they drew on a goatee, slicked back their hair, wore combat boots and a button-up shirt decorated with devil faces — then paraded around the stage and audience to “My Own Worst Enemy” by LIT.

Playing Jackson Havoc offered Gautereaux an opportunity to explore elements of masculinity that they wouldn’t necessarily want to bring into their everyday life — helping them recognize what traits they also identify with offstage.

“There’s a lot of things about ‘90s punk personality that’s super toxic masculinity,” Gautereaux said. “By introducing Jackson into my life as a way to explore that identity more fully, I was able to realize as much as I like certain aesthetic aspects of this identity, I don’t want to act like that guy.”

Gautereaux’s partner, Jade Iskander, 24, also tried drag for the first time at that Art and Soul SLO show — which introduced them to a freedom they had never experienced before, they said.

That performance laid the foundation for Iskander’s current drag persona, Mello Drama, a drag queen inspired by the “moody divas” of pop culture, they said.

While drag queens often put on bubbly, bedazzled performances that inspire their audience to laugh and dance along, Mello Drama prefers to perform more somber, dramatic songs that invite her audience to process heavier emotions.

“There’s a vulnerability in drag that comes from being brave and putting on a bright face, but I think there’s a bravery that Mello has to show the opposite — to bring some drama, to bring a little bit of pain and express it through the beauty of drag,” Iskander said. “Mello prides herself on being able to showcase that it’s OK not to be OK. We don’t all have to be happy and upbeat all the time, it’s OK to just take a moment and feel.”

Expressing heavier feelings onstage allows Iskander to feel lighter offstage, they said.

“Being raised as a male in very toxic masculinity culture, it is hard to allow myself to express negative emotions,” Iskander said. “Having this character where I get to feel safer in that and almost more encouraged has helped heal Jade.”

Not only did drag expand Gautereaux and Iskander’s understanding of their own identities, but it deepened their relationship with each other.

“It was an exciting opportunity to jump into something new together and to kind of build another type of relationship within our own through Jackson and Mello,” Iskander said.

They get to watch each other shine onstage, and support each other behind the scenes as they try new costumes and choreograph their numbers, Gautereaux said.

“Gender is a really cool language to communicate to other people in, and we get to see the deepest parts of that in each other which is super special,” Gautereaux said.

Creating more space for experimental drag in SLO County

Gautereaux credited the rise of drag kings to organizations like Art and Soul SLO and the Cal Poly Drag Club, which created safe spaces for people to experiment with drag. Let There Be Lesbians, a biannual dance party at Bang the Drum Brewery, also featured local drag kings.

While some corners of the local drag scene supported experimental forms of drag, Gautereaux noticed that drag kings often had to fight for recognition on and off stage.

Event organizers were sometimes skeptical of drag kings and gender-nonconforming performers, as they were more familiar with drag queens.

Gautereaux said this could be because the AIDS crisis reduced diversity within the LGBTQ+ community, comparing it to the burning of the Library of Alexandria.

“We just lost generations of knowledge and lived experience and culture and art in the span of a decade,” they said.

AIDS touched every corner of the LGBTQ+ community, but wealthy, white, cisgender men had access to more resources and were more likely to survive the pandemic, Gautereaux said. Those who survived were also forced to conform to hetero-patriarchal standards to preserve their safety, so many avenues of genderqueer expression were lost.

“It was trans people and people of color that were the most affected by the AIDS crisis, and the ones who are not as well represented in those generations of the community today,” they said.

Now, Gautereaux wishes to cultivate a community that embraces vibrant, genderqueer expression in and out of drag.

“I feel a sense of being passed a torch,” they said. “We have an opportunity to revitalize the diversity of our community and show these identities that haven’t been mainstream.”

That’s why Gautereaux and Iskander founded the House of Mello-Havoc in October, after first co-writing and directing a Barbie-inspired drag production, “Night of the Living Dolls.”

The production featured both drag kings and queens, and the couple wanted to continue to work alongside those artists with their new venture.

“The opportunity to put on a show like the ‘Night of the Living Dolls’ really opened our eyes to a bit more of a drag theater that wasn’t available in this scene before,” Iskander said. “It was a clear moment for us to say: Let’s build something out of this.”

The couple soon founded the House of Mello-Havoc, named after their drag personas.

The collective seeks to highlight non-traditional forms of drag and offer a supportive space for drag artists to be experimental, Gautereaux said.

The structure of the House of Mello-Havoc is inspired by 1970s and ‘80s ballroom culture in New York, Gautereaux said. Back then, queer people kicked out of their homes would form supportive, family structures called houses, run by an older, more experienced member called “Mother.” The houses competed against each other at balls, where the performers would dress in elaborate costumes — often in drag — and strut or dance for recognition.

While the members of the House of Mello-Havoc don’t live together, they do support each other’s art and self expression. Gautereaux, as the House Father, organizes and markets their performances, while Iskander, as the House Mother, arranges the music. The other House members help coordinate the events when and where they can.

Meanwhile, the House members help each other with costumes, makeup and developing their drag personas.

“This is a space for them to focus on building their experience,” Gautereaux said. “I want it to be an opportunity for people to grow — not just as a drag artist, but as an event coordinator.”

On March 23, the House hosted a family-friendly, fairy tale themed drag show at Bang the Drum Brewery. Family-friendly drag shows exclude profanity and have dress codes and choreography guidelines to create an environment suitable for children.

“It was really exciting to be able to put on almost a Disney-like wonder of princesses and princes and kings and queens and wizards and deliver that in a way that’s not your typical drag bar scene, but something for children and adults,” Iskander told The Tribune.

Coming up, the House will perform at Trans Pride at Meadow Park on Saturday and at Fairy Fest at Bang the Drum Brewery on May 25. The House will also reprise Night of the Living Dolls this October to celebrate their one year anniversary.

‘I don’t want to just come off as one thing,’ drag house founder says

As Gautereaux took on more responsibilities with the House of Mello-Havoc, people started looking to them for direction in the local drag community. Gautereaux wanted to be a trustworthy leader, so they decided it was time for Havoc to grow up.

So, about a year into Gautereaux’s drag journey, Jackson Havoc tried on a new look.

At a performance in November, Gautereaux dressed Havoc in a suit and performed a Michael Bublé song, throwing a rose into a crowd of fans before bowing elegantly at the end of the number.

“It was very smooth and suave and collected and a little more mature and polished,” they said. “That is probably one of the best performances that I’ve ever done.”

This performance helped Gautereaux access healthier elements of masculinity, they said.

“I’ve been able to experiment with the really multifaceted ways that masculinity presents itself and choose what is me and what is maybe just Jackson Havoc,” Gautereaux said. “That’s allowed me in my daily life to develop a healthier sense of masculinity as a non-drag performer, as just a person.”

Once Gautereaux settled into an older, wiser Jackson Havoc, they decided to explore their femininity with a new drag persona: Havoc’s twin sister Tragica — a sequined, self-assured go-go dancer.

Growing up, Gautereaux would often wear hyper-feminine makeup and wigs — which felt like a performance in its own way.

“I think that’s kind of where it all started,” they said. “Even as person born female, femininity in everyday life is a performance. So drag is really not too far of a jump.”

While Jackson Havoc allowed Gautereaux to explore facets of masculinity that were not available to them in everyday life, Tragica allowed them to explore expressions of femininity that had jeopardized their safety in the past.

Gautereaux debuted Tragica at a Go-Go Dance Party hosted by the Gala Pride and Diversity Center this March.

After the performance, Gautereaux felt newly empowered in their femininity, they said.

“If Tragica is being objectified, it’s because I’m choosing to go on a stage and dress in a way where I know that is how people are going to see her, but I have control over that,” they said. “That’s empowering.”

Drag performance allowed Gautereaux to explore their identity while building a vibrant, supportive community that celebrates art, they said.

“I don’t want to just come off as one thing, like, I am genderfluid,” Gautereaux said. “People actually recognizing me underneath those types of drag, it’s taken awhile — but it feels so good that my community sees me in all of the ways that I am.”

The Tribune is looking for people who are part of underrepresented communities to help us take a closer look at life in San Luis Obispo County. If you or someone you know might be interested in partnering with The Tribune in the Diversity Storytelling Project, please contact reporters Stephanie Zappelli (szappelli@thetribunenews.com) or Kaytlyn Leslie (kleslie@thetribunenews.com).