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A Drag King’s Journey Through Dating and Community in London 

I call it a quest because it truly feels like a long, arduous search I had to go on to find people like me who shared a significant understanding of what it was like to be LGBTQ+

by Mylo Castagnaro

From invasive questions about what surgeries I might have, to being told that my trans identity is a point of grievance, I have never longed for queer and trans friends more in my life.

While many aspects of my home city of Basel in Switzerland have evolved since I moved to London, there was little to no representation of LGBTQ+ people when I was growing up. I was one of the only out queer people at my school and in my friendship group. So I made the decision to move to London, for university but also in the hopes of finding a new sense of belonging.

I cannot speak for every trans person, but in my experience transitioning while in a relationship has been the key factor in my well-being. My partner was the first person to understand and see me for who I am. I was never taught about LGBTQ+ love and how affirming it can be to be with someone who loves beyond gender and the binaries our society has put in place.

I was initially hesitant to wear more masculine clothing and present in a more masculine way. But even before I came out as trans, my girlfriend supported my masculinity. When I finally cut my hair and changed my entire wardrobe, we had only been dating for a year. Given that it was a drastic change to how I previously presented, I expected my partner to have some reservations or feel uneasy. But they were nothing short of amazing. Not once did they make me feel like I was wrong for trying to be who I am. While this response should be normalised and not praised, it still meant the world to be celebrated and desired for my butch, trans masculinity.

I found a new sense of confidence which positively impacted my relationship both to myself and my partner. Accepting my identity, embracing it and receiving support for it pushed me to seek out more trans friends.

Finding community in big cities like London comes with a new form of solitude. Loneliness among others is a common feeling most people will experience at some point in their life. But this solitude is amplified by the lack of belonging many LGBTQ+ people feel among their cis, straight friends. No matter how supportive or educated they may be, many marginalised people will seek community with those who share a similar upbringing or experiences. Feeling this disconnect from some of my current friends, I embarked on a quest to find my community.

I call it a quest because it truly feels like a long, arduous search I had to go on to find people like me who shared a significant understanding of what it was like to be LGBTQ+. The two ways I managed to make more trans friends were to go to as many queer venues, trans-led events, and meet-ups as possible; the other was to start drag. While connections can be built organically, you have to actively look for them. Community doesn’t just happen, it is made.

I got to know many people since joining various trans groups and attending LGBTQ+ focused events but what I still lacked was a guide on how to navigate queer and trans friendships. I love the fluidity and nonconformity LGBTQ+ friendships allow: dating your ex’s ex, getting with all your friends and the wider pseudo-incestuous relations that are not uncommon in these spaces. But they are not always the most healthy friendships. I am craving platonic intimacy that exists beyond the physical and prioritises a deeper emotional connection between us queer and trans people.

Surprisingly, I found this to be more present among the drag community. While similar patterns still exist in those spaces, the appreciation for drag and belonging remains at its core. Being a drag king has also given me more confidence both on stage and off, keen on connecting with other kings and things alike, many of whom are trans or non-binary themselves. By pushing myself out of my comfort zone and physically exerting my presence on stage, I felt more comfortable taking up space and talking to strangers – and vice versa. Strangers also approached me, showing an interest not only in my drag but in who I am as a person.

What helped me the most was realising that we are all in the same boat. We as LGBTQ+ people are constantly longing for community, with many of us being estranged or feeling disconnected from our biological families. The word ‘chosen family’ gets thrown around a lot, but I think there is something so powerful in choosing our own community and well-being above others’ expectations of what family means. Putting yourself out there, no matter how uncomfortable, can lead to so much joy.

I would love this quest to have a clear ending, with me finding my community and living happily queer after. But my journey is still ongoing. I have planted the seeds for what can blossom into deep and connected friendships and I cannot wait to see them grow.

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