Understanding the Drag of Chi Chi DeVayne, And Loving Them to the Moon and Back
I miss Chi Chi DeVayne.
The queen who labeled herself the cheap queen;
the queen who lip synced upside down during the Pitch Perfect challenge;
the queen who served us Eartha Kit in the Snatch Game, brilliantly rifting with RuPaul and Bob the Drag Queen;
the queen who gave us an emmy worthy lipsync of And I Am Telling You;
and the queen who treated everyone with kindness and respect
is no longer among the living.
And I will never meet her and that makes me really sad. My hope with this piece is that you feel closer to Chi Chi, and have a better understanding of the politics of her drag — what she cared about and how culture influenced her drag.
Chi Chi and I are both Louisiana natives — dirty south to the core. We are crafty, thrifty, resourceful, resilient — think Chi Chi’s couture trash bag entrance lewks for both drag race season 8 and all stars 3. In addition, we are some of the funniest and most talented people you’ll ever meet. Who doesn’t enjoy a southern queer?
Outside of New Orleans, Louisiana is not flashy and does not attract visitors. We are a forgotten people in many ways — left in the hands of corrupt politicians and immersed in slave nostalgia in that good ole confederate tradition. There are still all white towns, gravel roads a plenty, reconstructed and repurposed plantations and so many places a Black queer person would never want to run out of gas. Hurricane 4s and 5s run rampant throughout the state, only to exacerbate the struggle of Black poor folks.
In the end, we become the faces at the bottom of the well. Faces for the entire nation to gaze at — no help, only to gaze at and feel comfort in not being us.
“Black people are the magical faces at the bottom of society’s well. Even the poorest whites, those who must live their lives only a few levels above, gain their self-esteem by gazing down on us. Surely, they must know that their deliverance depends on letting down their ropes. Only by working together is escape possible. Over time, many reach out, but most simply watch, mesmerized into maintaining their unspoken commitment to keeping us where we are, at whatever cost to them or to us.” — Derrick Bell
We are left behind, often not thought of in regards to movements and acts of liberation. Many consider New Orleans a travel destination, but take a moment to google Black trans death in New Orleans, now the entire state. Black trans women are being hunted and murdered by folks who are supposed to love them unconditionally, since murder and crime at large are committed by perpetrators who live in proximity to the victims. Hunted and murdered by folks who say they believe Black Lives Matter, however, not all Black lives count. I think many folks in the drag race community looked down upon Chi Chi, and placed her at the bottom of the well. And it’s so dangerous to place her there, as Chi Chi just might be the heart and spirit of drag (race).
We eat well, ’cause our living and survival demands creativity, even with food. We eat pig feet, pig tongue, pig intestines (we like pork), rabbit and the lining of several animal’s stomachs. We make soups, gumbos, rouxs, sauces, gravys, stews, boudin, chitlins and cracklin. We use the parts of animals that white folks historically did not want to eat, so Black people made the animal leftovers into a cuisine for our community. It tastes good; as we know how to season, marinate, bake, fry, grill and smother.
However, the food fights back, leaving long term health issues — this diet is correlated with high blood pressure and diabetes which could lead to a stroke or heart attack. This is just one way systemic oppression shows up in Black southern lives and histories. And, yet, another example on the ways white supremacy intends to extinguish Black folk from this world.
I drive through Chi Chi’s hometown every time I visit my mother and family in Eunice. Chi Chi lived in Shreveport, which is one of the bigger cities in Louisiana, and somehow still feels empty and vacant. It’s about an hour and a half away from my hometown. I always hoped to catch one of her performances, as I passed through, but she kept busy with the Ru tour.
I dreamed of buying Chi Chi a cup of black coffee at some local coffee shop. We would share a pastry, a blueberry scone, that turned out to be a little dry and chalky. Chi Chi would think of ways she could make the pastry better in her own kitchen. Murmuring, where is the butter?
We would talk about growing up in Louisiana — the lack of safety for girls like us; the men who craved us in secret; the industrial Baptist Church complex; and our responsibility to family members and friends who don’t know how to love us in our fullness. We would giggle at the audacity of us girls, daring to live in our fullness in a state where we’re hunted.
Chi Chi would invite me to dinner at her home for a delicious comfort meal, as she enjoyed my energy throughout our coffee date. We would go to the grocery store and shop for ingredients to create this soulful offering.
Chi Chi wore some cut off blue jean shorts, weathered flip-flops and a t-shirt that said, try me if you want to. I, on the other hand, wore a flowy colorful caftan (pinks, yellows and greens) with heels — think Honey Mahogany, but fat.
I looked like the Black Easter bunny — instead of dropping eggs, I dropped unsolicited knowledge. Basically, calling every white person a racist, and then inviting them to buy me something off my wish-list.
Chi Chi: Okay, gurl. Now you know we in the country and you wearing a sundress. Bitch, the sun ain’t even out.
Me: ohhh, damn, read me bitch. But also know, I am the sun. <delivered with the essence of Diahann Carroll>
Chi Chi: you a plum fool. Also, know I’m no stranger to beatin’ a nigga down…so you in good hands gurl.
Me: Well I didn’t plan on us galavantin’ around Shreveport. I rarely even drive on the interstate with painted nails or makeup. Folks are looking to make examples of girls like us.
Chi Chi: you alright gurl, be yo bearded lady self. <intended to be a read with love>
Me: Gasp. <delivered with an eye roll and a chubby middle finger)
We were fast friends.
Roaming around the store, we start putting our menu together. We end up near the butcher area and both have a reaction when we encounter oxtails — a delicacy we both grew up eating. Actually, this was on the menu in most poor Black southern homes in the 90s.
Chi Chi: Gurl, oxtails are too expensive. Remember they were cheap because white people didn’t want to eat them?
Me: Sure do. Growing up, Grandma Bertha cooked them once a week. Either in a stew or a soup.
Chi Chi: have you ever fried it?
Me: Umm, no. <with a look of disgust and fascination>
Chi Chi: Chile, you missing out.
Me: I bet.
Chi Chi: let’s move on. We should mop something.
Me: like, gum.
Chi Chi: Gurl, like a starch.
That evening we would cook and eat dinner, with soft r&b playing in the background, slowly transitioning to the Queen of Bounce, Big Freedia. On the menu was cornbread, greens, rice, smothered pork chops, mac and cheese, and a slice of sweet potato pie for dessert. Washed down with a large cup of thick red drink. Full transparency, Chi Chi would do most of the cooking, or all the cooking to be most accurate.
After dinner, we would top off the evening with two tightly rolled blunts — something from the Girl Scout Cookies family and Gorilla glue. The blunts were rolled with unending love and care, using saliva that typically offends but in this process becomes liquid gold. As we elevate, we can’t resist laughing our way through the earthy and relaxing high. We would affirm (each other) that we are indeed baddies — chicks who were always in the know, ’cause safety demands us to live in reality as delusion could kill us. I would briefly bring up that all stars 3 vote that determined the top 2.
Me: So, gurl. Talk to me. <cough> (The blunt got me); Trixie?
Chi Chi: Gurrrrrl, I didn’t know Shangela was bringing it like that. I thought we were all bringing it.Me: I mean, she indeed showed up
Chi Chi: But gurlllll, you know what was most special to me?Me: <passing the blunt> Whet, gurl?
Chi Chi: I got to vote for my good sis, Kennedy. She never gets her due.
Me: I hear that
Chi Chi: She is a badass. She’s a great role model for other Black queens. And she’s fuckin’ fierce.
What gets lost in Chi Chi’s vote against Shangela, was her devotion to, and vote for Kennedy Davenport. Remember Jasmine Masters reaction to Kennedy sauntering into the werk room in season 7? Jasmine was gooped, honored and proud to officially meet the queen she once celebrated on VHS. Kennedy is a superstar in the Black drag community, yet, receives very little grace and celebration from the drag fandom who are mostly white queer kids who don’t understand the ways Blackness has shaped and transformed drag.
Me: You’re so right! Snatch Game winner her season, some of the best lip-syncs on the show, an established talent outside the show, a pageant legend. Hell, she’s the Dancing Diva of Texas.
And she’s absolutely stunning!
Chi Chi: Seeing her (Kennedy) succeed was winning enough.
Me: I hear that.
Chi Chi was never going to miss an opportunity to hype up her brilliant friend. And she did it on national television. It was special and beautiful among all the drama, and trauma…and delusion…and white fragility. You may have missed it, as television tends to whitewash and erase critical Black moments.
It’s midnight now. We’ve laughed, talked shit, on our second blunt and all on a full stomach.
Me: You losing weight baby?
Zavion: <deep sigh>
Me: My apologies, baby. I’m sorry if that’s an intrusive question.
Zavion: <another deep sigh>
Me: I’m so sorry, baby. I just thought…..i’m babbling.
Zavion: I’m gon’ be alright. Just made a few poor decisions.
Tired of getting bad news, you know? If it ain’t one thing it’s another. Just gonna put it in God’s hands.
Me: Just know you deserve to be well. More than most. <stated looking into his eyes, as he looked down>
Zavion: Thank you, Sis. I’d appreciate a few prayers and happy thoughts.
<silence>
Zavion: You got any God children?
Me: I do. I’m a parrain to a few of these rugrats.
Zavion: <chuckle> rugrats! That’s accurate.
Me: You must have a few?
Zavion: I got a few. They’re like my kids.
Me: Yea, I think if we had our own babies they would be bad as hell.
Zavion: I like them bad. <a hearty chuckle> They just need a little extra attention.
Me: you’re better than me, love.
Zavion: They need protection. Black kids have it hard.
Especially, Black queer kids, in Lousiana.
<slight pause between the above and below statements>
I’ve had very little protection in life — it’s been hard, but it’s life. The deck I’ve been handed.
And I finally got a little relief after drag race. Not having to work two jobs to make ends meet. Traveling to places I thought I would never see, and people I would have never met.
<another pause>
I’m blessed. But I’m still so tired. Burned out, maybe.
I’m content listening to Zavion’s string of thoughts. I feel honored that he’s comfortable enough to share these intimate thoughts with me. But mostly, I feel seen and heard in Zavion’s experiences, as our stories intersect.
Who protects you, Sha baby?
Me: Whew! A question. Look over there! <I start to giggle>
Zavion: ha. Indeed.
My positionality in this world is shaped by the identities that I hold. I am a Black, fat, queer, non-binary, transfeminine human. As I bravely allow myself to explore my experiences, unpack my trauma and find reasons to hold on to joy, 2020 has reminded me of the unique ways privilege shows up, even when it’s easier to lead with my oppressed identities and experiences.
Bio:
Cody Charles is the author of Dear Black Student Affairs Professionals and College Administrators, Let’s Talk, Black People! To Love Black Queer and Trans Folxs You Must Reckon with the Intimacy of the Violence you Commit, Black Joy, We Deserve It, The Night The Moonlight Caught My Eye: Not a Review but a Testimony on the Film Moonlight, The Higher Education Graduation Speech You Deserve, 24 Pieces of College Advice for Students of Marginalized Identities From People Who Have Been There, Student Affairs is a Sham, 19 Types of Higher Education Professionals, 10 Common Things Well-Intentioned Allies Do That Are Actually Counterproductive, A Letter to Black Greeks Who Happen to be Black and Queer; 13 Radical Interview Questions to Incorporate Into Your Campus Hiring Process, Enter At Your Own Risk: Getting (Radically) Honest About Residence Life And Its Affects on Wellness and What Growing Up Black And Poor Taught Me About Resiliency. Join them for more conversation on Twitter @_codykeith_, Facebook (Follow Cody Charles) and on Instagram @_codykeith_. Please visit their blog, Reclaiming Anger, to learn more about them.
