Pride in the era of Trump: in the Deep South, these Drag queens are fighting back

As the sun sets in Memphis, Tennessee, Keleigh Klarke pins up her curls, puts on lip gloss and gets ready to perform. 

Growing up in rural Texas, Keleigh – real name Kelly McDaniel, 46 – was always interested in makeup, fashion and beauty pageants, but didn’t have many outlets to express his interests.

‘The night I went to my first drag show, everything changed,’ he told Metro. ‘After beginning to perform in 2001, I’ve worked at seven different clubs in Memphis.’

Drag is a staple of nightlife in almost every city in America. Crowds gather in New York,

In the national conversation about LGBTQ rights and the drag community, voices from the South are often excluded.

Headlines about crackdowns on Pride events, increasing conservatism in the region and other news drowns out the work being done by the queer community daily in the south.

Earlier this year, several southern states rebranded Pride Month to reflect more conservative leanings. Tennessee declared June ‘Nuclear Family Month’, Arkansas called it ‘Fidelity Month’, and Alabama went with ‘Strong Families Month’.

On his first day back in office, Trump declared there were only two genders. He also undid multiple orders to advance LGBTQ equality, banned transgender people from the military and from participating in women’s sports.

Healthcare restrictions have made it difficult for people to access gender-affirming care. And in the south, LGBTQ people face a higher amount of discrimination and bear the brunt of these policies – but are too quickly written off for where they’re from.

These drag queens want to change that narrative and are actively working to better the region for the LGBTQ community.

Taylor Alxndr co-founded Southern Fried Queer Pride in 2014. Based in Atlanta, Georgia, SFQP was initially created as a three-day festival in June to platform southern LGBTQ artists and grassroots movements. Still, it quickly grew into an organisation working year-round.

Taylor told Metro: ‘Our festival is still the only Pride festival that happens in June here in Atlanta. During our second or third festival, we had a large number of people coming all the way from North Carolina, Louisiana and Texas, saying, ‘we don’t have this in our state’.

‘We quickly realised that this meant a lot to people, to have a more intentional southern queer and trans community event.’

SFQP is based in Atlanta, a historically black city which was and continues to be central to Civil Rights. Still, Taylor says, there’s segregation and a lack of inclusion of Black and Brown people from the narrative.

During Trump’s first term, Taylor said there was a large amount of energy of resistance even through struggles.

People felt ‘invigorated’ to fight back – now, during his second administration, members of the community are ‘exhausted’.

‘Every five seconds, it’s just a reminder that the world is wild and exhausting and so difficult to imagine getting better. People are taking the second term way harder than the first,’ she said.

Fighting misconceptions amidst uncertainty

After retaking office in January 2025, Trump vowed to ban flying Pride flags at US embassies. Mentions of trans communities on government websites were wiped.

All of this – and more – has snowballed into muting queer voices and taking away the joy of Pride.

‘Outside of corporations not wanting to sponsor things, a lot of LGBTQ organisations are laying low, being quiet, not wanting to be too loud and proud because they’re afraid of the visibility that entails, and the backlash or harm that might come their way,’ Taylor told Metro. 

In the south, this fear is a bit more present. Operating a queer organisation in the south comes with a lot of misconceptions, Taylor said.

LGBTQ folks in the south are constantly fighting the narrative of the region being 100% conservative, lacking in education and being stuck in the past.

‘But Black and Brown folks, the LGBTQ folks, the progressive folks are consistently pushing us into the future — and so many other people and movements across the country borrow their grassroots organising methods and ideas from people in the South,’ Taylor explains.

‘We’re constantly fighting against this narrative that silences all the beautiful, vibrant work that we have here in the South, just because people view us in a certain way.’

Fighting to perform

Brigitte Bandit, a 34-year-old drag queen and activist from Austin, Texas, became involved in Texas politics in 2023, when she appeared in full drag during a Texas legislative session, as several anti-LGBTQ bills were being passed.

In May that year, she appeared in a white gown with the names of children killed at Robb Elementary School and Allen Mall in Texas, with the back of her dress reading: ‘Defend our kids against gun violence. Restrict guns, not drag.’

The bill, which would have banned drag, wasn’t passed – a major win for the LGBTQ community.

Brigitte tells Metro: ‘Thinking back on that win… it was much easier times than we’re in now.

‘Things have escalated exponentially since we won that lawsuit. It’s kind of sad to look back on, because it was a happy moment that now just feels bittersweet.’

After her success in 2023, she began LegiSLAYtion and Liberation in 2025 – a weekly community event that breaks down political news for the LGBTQ community in Texas.

‘It’s a way for the community to gather, educate, and empower each other. Now, LegiSLAYtion and Liberation has taken on its own journey,’ she added. 

A big part of that journey, and drag itself, Brigitte says, is posing a threat to systems of power at play in the United States during increasingly volatile times.

‘Queer people, queer visibility, queer representation — it all goes against the Christian nationalist, white supremacist values and agenda that the right has. Whenever you see queer people existing outside of those structures, it threatens their power,’ Brigitte tells Metro.

‘Right now, we’re seeing all these funding cuts to LGBTQ research, grants, and any kind of entities that support LGBTQ people. We also see people shying away from sharing their support for LGBTQ people. At the same time, we’re seeing a lot more grassroots organising and resistance.’

Even in deep red portions of the South, there are little acts of resistance each day against the systems at play, Brigitte said.

‘I’ve gone to speak at universities where they’ve banned drag, and they said, ‘No photos’ — they even paid me with a gift card, so there’s no financial record. There are little ways people are resisting here that you probably won’t hear about or be able to share publicly,’ she said.

Similarly to Texas, in 2023, drag in Tennessee was thrust into the national spotlight when the state passed anti-drag legislation.

After the bill was passed, Kelly, based in Memphis, said he noticed fear among his fellow queens – but vowed to ‘never go quietly’ and continue being himself.

‘My mother would always say, “If you want to pick a fight, that’s fine, but you better pack a punch”. That’s the same way I felt about the drag ban legislation,’ he tells Metro, laughing.

‘You are not going to stop me from doing what I am doing, which is completely in line with all acceptable laws. It’s not crude, it’s not vulgar, it’s not x-rated, or immoral.’

‘It’s a way to use the glitter, sequins, and feathers to distract your constituents from the actual problems in Tennessee. Queer resistance is alive and well and thriving in the South!’

On Friday evenings, as the sun sets in the south, Kelly, Taylor and Brigitte put on their makeup and prepare to perform, to sit with their communities and to continue living as themselves, even while working against a system which wants to stop them.

‘For those who live in the Southern states, it’s twice as hard,’ Kelly adds.

‘But all you have to do is pin your wig on, strap on your pumps, add some glitter and gloss, and stay hydrated.’

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