I went to Soakies a few months after my 21st birthday. I walked to the bar and sat down. The space wasn’t large at all. One side had a bar, a couple of dart boards and a few tables to eat at, whilst the other had enough room for 50 people with concrete floors epoxied in black. There was a small stage - only one step high - and a tiny DJ booth at the back.
 

I stood against the wall holding my virgin drink close to my chest. A show started with a performer coming to the stage rocking a bright floral print jumpsuit who had one long leg exposed dripping in jewellery and their face painted for the Gods. The movements weren’t anything I’d seen before, I’d seen hip-hop dancers at other venues, but nothing prepared me for what I saw at Soakies. The first performer sashayed to the stage for a few seconds and then really got going. Long arms swinging wildly in circles, lots of attitude and the most impressive death drop in high heels. The way they landed on the floor with a thud scared me. The people who were crowded against the walls came up to the stage during the performance and started throwing money at them, so I followed suit. I came to understand later that this style of dancing with the swinging arm movement as waacking. Tyrone Proctor pioneered the style of dance in queer clubs during the 70’s, but I’d never understood that history until I got deeper into the scene.

By the end of the night, I was a Soakies kid. The first Drag Queen I saw perform was Dovee Love; they also had Drag Kings performing and this intrigued me. The first male drag artist I saw at Soakies goes by the name Biskit. She slid to the stage rocking a 3 piece suit and matching brim. I had seen the Kansas City 2-step before, but not the way she performed it. So much swag.

I went to Soakies most of the nights when they had shows and I wanted to see the woman perform who I’d met in the parking lot previously too. The more I went, the more comfortable I got. Eventually, I starting making friends within the walls of Soakies, most lasting to this day. When I got up the courage, I asked how I could join in on performing at the shows.

Our male drag group was called the Kings of KC. The connections I made at Soakies extended farther than just performing at the club and I started to meet male drag artists all over Kansas City. Our Drag King group practiced routines in my living room preparing for shows and one of my favourite memories is when we decided to perform a song by the Black Eyed Peas remixed with Love Shack by the B52’s. It was stupid hot that summer and we were wearing afro wigs for the first part of the performance, switching costumes when the song flipped.

We split up the choreography so each person had a solo with the rest of us jumping in on the chorus. Where the chorus repeats the lyrics, “father, father, father, help us”, we’d kneel down together holding our hands in prayer, spin to the left and jump up to change our wigs before the B52 part of the song started. I gained a new appreciation for hip-hop dancers who do floor-work. My knees will never forgive me for the hours we spent practicing that song.

We transformed ourselves into our favourite rap artists or RnB singers. I still remember using spirit gum and weave clippings to make a fake little moustache for my performance as LL Cool J. We would help each other by creating costumes and dance routines imitating rappers like, Outcast, Nelly, Q-tip and others. I even fried my hair one time bleaching it for my transformation to Sisqó.

 

Soakies had balls too, much like those of the Harlem Renaissance era, and that’s when we’d bring out the best performances. You were guaranteed to find top shelf entertainment, dance routines worked on for months and the newest music. As a member of the entertainers there, my eyes were opened to how society treated us outside the safety of our club, so I became a gatekeeper, making sure the place remained safe and it’s a responsibility I don’t take lightly.