“Once upon a time, there were many kinds: this and that, somewhat and whatnot, either and very, sort of, just, rather, a little, neither and both.”

Dressed in a red evening gown complete with bold jewelry, a blonde wig and a full face of makeup, drag queen Ramona Mirage sat at the head of the Herreshoff Community Room, reading aloud from the picture book, “Neither.” It was just one of several he had planned to read to the dozens of children and their families gathered for the Drag Queen Story Hour this past Saturday, June 15.

“This is the Land of All, and everyone fits in here.”

As they raptly listened to the messages promoting inclusion and hope, protestors standing outside the Rogers Free Library were lining Hope Street, demonstrating their outrage over the day’s events.

“It’s a very bad situation,” said Cranston resident Richard Nunez, “and I don’t like it at all.”

After weeks of ensuing online drama and debate over the library’s hosting — and brief cancellation of — the nationally-occurring program, Drag Queen Story Hour continued to stir controversy.

Lessons learned

After bringing a chapter of Drag Queen Story Hour to Boston several years ago, Ramona — who, outside of his drag persona, is a social worker and identifies as a gay male — has been sharing the message of inclusion with communities throughout the area. The structure remains the same; he will read a few picture books, sing a song or two, and facilitate a craft (Saturday’s selection included “Olivia and the Fairy Princess,” a rousing rendition of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” and decorating flags). Interspersed are question-and-answer sessions, where Ramona claims “nothing is off the table.”

He said the overall goal is to create a safe environment for both children and adults to explore and develop a clearer understanding of what it means to perform drag and be a member or ally of the LBGQT+ community.

“It’s not just about accepting others, it’s also about accepting yourself and who you are, and loving yourself and not questioning it otherwise,” Ramona said.

It was a lesson Ramona took over two decades himself to learn. Through drag, however, he was finally able to find his voice and express himself both openly and honestly. Yet some attendees were unsure of the difference between performing drag and being transgender, a question Ramona has seen not only routinely brought up in his storyhour events, but from people like his own mother. 

“When I told her I’m a drag queen, she cried and said, ‘I can handle you as a gay man, I cannot handle you as a trans woman,’ ” Ramona said.

His mother had it wrong, however; while many transgender people do perform drag, Ramona explained that the two are not synonymous with one another. Whereas the former centers around gender identification, drag, on the other hand, is an art born out of political activism. Similar to a musician during a show, drag queens (or kings) adopt a certain persona as they grace the stage. For him, that means spending upwards of two hours applying his professional theater makeup, assembling his jewelry, donning that day’s dress and wig and becoming the queen of one-liners, Ramona Mirage.

“She’s six-foot-three, she’s in six-inch stilettos, and you’re not getting rid of her,” he said.

Others, however, may have a different style, whether that may be influenced by cabaret or exude grungy roots. Though in that sense the industry has grown more diverse, the world of drag has not been immune to the problems facing society today; women and people of color have more difficulty than their white male counterparts in securing work, a reality Ramona feels is not often touched upon. Change, he shared, not only needs to occur outside the LBGQT+ community, but within it as well.

“There are still so many things we need to fight for.”

Controversy ensues

Just outside, however, an entirely different fight was being had at the same time.

Reciting prayers and holding signs with messages such as, “Honk for Purity” and “Dear God: Let NOT the little children be perverted by Drag Queen story hours,” protestors from different ages and backgrounds gathered near the library’s front steps to demonstrate their opposition.

“These stories are very vulgar, they’re very immoral and if we’re going to let this happen then we’re also going to let society fall more and more,” Mr. Nunez feared.

The way South Kingstown resident Maryann Pignataro saw it, Drag Queen Story Hour was an inappropriate way to expose children to LBGQT+ concepts; that was a conversation to be had with their parents, whenever they felt the time was right. As a grandmother, she feared that her own grandchildren would become confused during such formative, gender-fluid years as a result of events like this.

“Why do they have to come to a gay, transgender story hour? That’s insane,” she argued.

Those believing in the positive impacts of DQSH, however, gathered on the other side of the stairs, hoisting messages of their own about acceptance and inclusion from the literary likes of JK Rowling and Dr. Seuss.

“I very strongly believe that words and books have a power to fight ignorance and to fight hate,” said Abigail Pimentel.

After seeing the magnitude of comments that had flooded in following the library’s brief cancellation of the story hour, Ramona had an inkling such protests would be occurring—not that it makes accusations of being a pedophile or “pushing a gay agenda” any easier.

“It’s not what they say, it’s that they’re not willing to talk about it,” he said.

Through DQSH, however, Ramona hopes that children will develop an acceptance and curiosity that ultimately leads to a conversation, not just a series of one-sided debates. Until then, however, he tries to remain hopeful, and encourages kids, too, to believe that people can change.

“Just because someone hated you once, give them an opportunity to learn and grow.”