A King’s Coronation

Although feeling lost in their high school’s theatre scene, Abi Edds couldn’t shake the per formance bug when they went to university. With drag opening their mind to a new world of possibilities, they returned to the stage in emphatic style, finally finding their way back home.

“I don’t know, I gotta think of a good name...”

“Oh my god... I think I got a perfect one for you...”

Tally Ho.

And thus, a king is born! Well, not quite yet. Coming from a furiously straight, predominantly white area of Florida, drag, or anything outside of the dusty wood closet at the back of your school’s theatre, was only a fantasy. In my theatre days in school, said dusty closet had felt like a home in a haunted house, especially if that house was occupied by a bunch of straight students and I was the only ghost. However, it wasn’t long before I found myself in the back of theatre class as well, fading as I did throughout the school. I became estranged from the class I looked forward to the most.

But then again, that was high school when I was a bit more insecure and baby weight still aided in my black sheepness. When the weight of dancing around teenage cruelty and even more cruel self-dissatisfaction was sent to sink, I had finally crawled my way to university. Though, moving onto my first experience in uni, I hadn’t been on stage or in an acting space in quite a while. As nice as it was being out and about, feeling better about myself as I grew into my body and the world around me, it felt bland, hollow almost. I found that I missed performing, being on the stage and in front of an audience.

So, when the time came for me to head back to the States for my spring semester, I returned to theatre and was given the role of a flamboyant and slightly spoiled British man in the Victorian era. Of course, with flamboyant flair and queer improvisation, I became notorious in my uni’s theatre and throughout my campus as ‘the gay man in that play’. And I loved it.

Dressing as an old-timey exhibitionist, speaking in a flouncy tone and becoming what can only be described as a tea-time fruitcake had sparked that theatrical flame yet again... but this felt different. At that time, I was more than interested in seeing clips of RuPaul’s Drag Race and many of the queens’ talents that would randomly pop up on my phone as I waited for an iced mocha in my campus’s coffee shop. I mean, I had been curious and interested in the art and spirit that came with the territory since I was younger, but other than big, bold makeup coming from a big, bold show, I hadn’t known much about drag or even knew that anyone like me could dive into the art. Though, I would soon find out that, to quote Chappell Roan, “boys and girls can all be queens every single day.”

The town that my uni is in is relatively accepting as much as one could be in the middle of Florida Stateand I found that many of the students, soon to be the closest friends and relations I could have, were queer or allies. And as I neared the final month or two of this spring semester, I realised that said community, also having a social club within the campus, was bringing forth an event that I simply could not pass up. The event was called So You Think You Can Drag?. Surely, there’s no need for explanations, the playful competition was nothing short of a fabulous opportunity for students to death drop their way on stage. Though, this was my very first time, what would it be like?

Alex Vargas, or Do Pamine, my dearest friend and drag sibling, took no time in pulling me into their makeup corner that being their dorm helping me pull together exactly what I was looking for in my drag character: the ‘gay British Victorian man’. I have all the thanks in the world to them, for they would create a theatrical monster. I had my corset, leggings, face painted and fancy pink robe ready, I just needed a name. A name that went well with the kind of notable character I’ve set for myself. But what?

After a moment of silence between me and Do, they blurted out a title for my identity in the name of humour Tally Ho. But joke’s on you, that’s actually a perfect name! So when all was said and slayed, the only thing left was the performance.

Tally Ho became a burlesque show to the tune ‘Le Jazz Hot’ from the film Victor Victoria and the more I danced and dazzled, the more I felt encouraged, feeling right and at sorts on stage. And when I returned to my dorm and stared in the mirror at my made-up reflection, I never could have asked to be a better prince.