Why Drag Queens don't represent me.. A Cross dressers view on Pride events and Public perception

As a crossdresser, I often find myself caught in the crossfire of assumptions, labels, and misunderstandings—many of which come not from those outside the LGBTQ+ community, but from within it.

Recently, I looked at the entertainment line-up for Pride Cymru and found myself disheartened.

The list is long—very long—and dominated by drag queens.

Nothing against drag queens per say.. BUT..

Over twenty drag performers are listed as part of the entertainment, the central attraction, the face of Pride.

And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that none of them represent me.

Drag queens are entertainers.

They perform a twisted for of femininity—often exaggerated, sexualised, and theatrical.

There’s innuendo, comedy, faux sex acts, and a knowing wink that says, “I’m a man, playing a woman, and we’re all in on the joke.”

That might be fine for those who love it, think it funny etc..

For many gay men in the LGB part of LGBTQ+, it’s fabulous fun seeing drag acts with many drag acts being gay men.

I get that.

But for people like me, it’s a littlw alienating.

I’m not a performer.

I don’t put on makeup and heels to get laughs or entertain a crowd.

When I present as Davina, it’s not a costume—it’s a side of me that’s real, soft, feminine, and a deeply personal escape from male me.

I don’t dress to shock or seduce.

I dress to feel whole, to calm the noise in my head, for enjoyment and escape.

So when women—especially partners—hear that their man is a crossdresser, the first image that pops into their head is often a drag queen.

And that does some real harm.

It makes it harder for women to understand and accept us.

They associate us with the hyper-sexualised parody of womanhood they’ve seen on stage.

They imagine us as men pretending to be women, strutting, swearing, flirting, and turning gender into a performance piece.

My wife certainly on meeting me and seeing how I presented as Davina was pleasantly surprised exclaiming "OMG you look like a woman" she said mybwig needed an upgrade but told me I genuinely looked like a passable woman.. When I asked what she expected and feared.. Her reply "I don't know.. More like a drag queen maybe"..

But crossdressing isn’t performance—it’s expression. It’s sanctuary. It’s relief.

And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.

I’ve spoken to other t-girls, crossdressers, and even some trans women who feel the same: that drag, as celebrated and dominant as it is in LGBTQ+ events, often undermines our quieter truths.

It makes it harder for us to be seen as authentically feminine, or even just taken seriously.

It might sound controversial, but I’ll say it plainly:

Drag culture doesn’t represent me. It often demeans women. And it often harms how crossdressers like me are viewed.

I’m not anti-drag. There’s a space for it. But that space shouldn’t come at the cost of other gender-diverse people being sidelined or erased.

Pride events, like Pride Cymru, need to do better in acknowledging the full spectrum of gender expression—not just the loudest or most flamboyant parts.

Where are the spaces for crossdressers who aren’t performers?

For trans people who aren’t on hormones or transitioning?

For those of us who move between worlds quietly, respectfully, and sincerely?

Its hard for us to be represented.. We are trans but live our lives as men, lots of us married men, respected as men.. Son it's hard for us to appear at Pride as our alter egos cross dressed. I know for example my company will have a big presence at Pride so I dare not go to Cardiff as Davina through fear of being recognised..

Works own policy on Trans excludea me as a Crossdresser.. It covers transitioning and I know those who embrace LGBTQ+ in work will be cheering on the drag queens..

Pride is supposed to be for all of us.

But right now, when I look at the line-up, I don’t feel included.

I feel stereotyped, misrepresented, and frankly, erased.

And it doesn’t stop at Pride.

Increasingly, I’m seeing drag performers brought into schools to read to children. And once again, I find myself asking: Who is this really for?

Let me say this plainly too: I don’t agree with drag performers being brought into classrooms.

What's the point? They aren't representing me in doing this they aren't representing MTF trans people.

To me, it feels like a confusing message—especially for children.

Drag is performance art.

It’s bold, brash, sexualised, camp, and often designed to push boundaries.

That might be fine for an adult nightclub or a Pride stage, but not a school library.

As a child, I think I would have been frightened by a drag queen suddenly appearing in my classroom.

Not because I was bigoted or closed-minded, but because of the jarring visual contrast—heavy makeup, towering wigs, loud outfits, and a caricatured loud persona.

That’s a lot for a young mind to take in, especially without context.

Drag doesn’t look like a woman.

Drag doesn’t look like a man.

Drag looks like a joke being played in the space where children learn and feel safe.

And let’s be clear: drag does not represent femininity.

It doesn’t represent women.

And it certainly doesn’t represent people like me.

When I present as Davina, I aim for elegance. Subtlety. Grace.

I don’t want to mock or parody womanhood—I want to experience and honour it.

There’s nothing satirical in what I do. It’s not a performance for others.

So when people see drag performers and think, “Oh, is that what a trans person or a crossdresser is?”—they’re not getting the full picture.

In fact, they’re getting a very distorted one. And that distortion hurts people like me, because it makes conversations with loved ones harder.

It makes our expression seem suspect. And it makes women—especially partners—worried we’re hiding flamboyant personas, secret performances, or hyper-sexual identities.

I don’t think drag queens are dangerous. But I do think they’re miscast in educational spaces where clarity, comfort, and gentle understanding are key.

Children deserve to learn about diversity.

But they also deserve age-appropriate, sincere representation—not entertainment confused for identity.

So if anyone is out there saying, “We’ve got LGBTQ+ representation covered—we’ve got a drag act reading stories next week,” I say: Not in my name. 

That’s not what femininity looks like to me.

Let’s broaden the conversation.

Let’s stop pretending one loud, colourful corner of the LGBTQ+ world represents the whole rainbow.

Because there are many of us out here, just trying to live honestly with reapect for women and with dignity.

I'm not saying ban drag it has its place but not as front and centre and as representing the T in LGBTQ+

Bit of a rant.. Home I've explained this well enough.. Some will not like my thoughts on Drag.. Sorry if it a offended anyone but I write my thoughts here and that's it on Pride and Drag..

Davina