“I love this photo of myself because it represents an important, recent inflection point in my creative journey that just has me giddy. Not only is it Biddy Bee’s first custom dress, but it’s also her coming out into the public at another level of professionalism, and taking the time to really capture a beautiful photograph whereas before it was just run, run, run. I’ve also been looking to find people who are creating hair that I really vibe with and supporting those creators financially. This wig is from the Netherlands — I found the creators on Etsy. I had always wanted to look into foam wigs because I hate hair in my face. It’s not that I’m gonna stop wearing wigs, but I wanted to look into different solutions. I’m already in drag, nothing about this is subtle. Basically, Biddy Bee has had a big glow-up. This year was a big one and a year ago was a big one, so anyone who has not seen me in about two years is gonna be like, ‘What has happened?!’” (All photos provided by Nick.)

Nick Biddle on personal potency and creative collaboration during Covid

In fall of 2019, Nick Biddle moved his life from San Francisco to Philadelphia, where he soon settled in the Gayborhood — the heart of Philly’s LGBT+ community (and home to the oldest queer and feminist bookstore in the United States). With big plans to perform and compete throughout the city as his beloved drag self Biddy Bee, Nick was excited to begin building his creative career while supporting himself via part-time, remote tech industry work. Biddy Bee was only two shows into her first local drag competition when Covid closed all the bars — a devastating blow for someone not as creative and enterprising as Nick Biddle. Below, we discuss why Philly, a dog named Lady, and how quarantine has actually been a blessing for Biddy Bee.

First of all, for anyone who doesn’t know — why did you make the move from San Francisco to Philly?

I’m from Philadelphia. I actually grew up about five blocks from where I live now. And I have a feeling of connection and responsibility to — and affinity for — Philadelphia because it raised me. I’ve always known that I wanted to do my life’s work here, and give back to a place that gave me so much.

“This is one of the first wigs I styled with the help of my friend, Lady Geisha, another Philly drag queen. She stayed with me for the month of April — a lot of the queens have been doubling and tripling up here in Philadelphia, whatever we need to do to make sure everyone can pay rent and make it through Covid. It was such an important month because Lady Geisha has many more years of experience than me, and she’s one of Philadelphia’s most polished and well-known drag queens. She taught me make-up techniques, and how to finish styling my hair so that it sits well across my face. And then she also loaned me a little bit of the jewelry here — the necklace, which makes the shot. I’ve never had a true drag mother, so to have this experienced person let me see myself in something different was very cool. This photo is the culmination of a lot of the skills she helped me learn over that month. And luckily she now lives three blocks away, so we keep in touch.”

Drag is very community-based, and Biddy Bee had become a big part of my life in SF. But because I ultimately wanted to be in Philly, I knew it was time to make the move back. There’s something very special about growing with your creative peers — seeing their process, and having them get to know you.

But yeah, Philadelphia has always been in my blood. My family has been here since the 1600s — we were part of the original Quaker settlements in the United States. We’ve always been very civically engaged and I would love to continue that legacy. But I would like to do it a little differently.

How so?

The Biddle family has always been known to be a bit wacky and fun — a very flamboyant family. There’s actually a Disney movie called The Happiest Millionaire, which is about my great-grandfather and his kids, my grandfather’s generation. It’s all about how they were this crazy Philadelphia family who had pet alligators — one in particular named George that notoriously would escape into the city.

“There’s something very special about growing with your creative peers — seeing their process, and having them get to know you.”

So we’ve been flamboyant and weird for a long time, but I will say there has always been a buttoned-up-ness to it. I want to take the best of who we are and open it up, so that it’s not based in class and upholding status. I think by making art a big part of how I engage critically with the world — and also how I pursue a civic path of politics — I will be an even better pillar for the community.

Let’s talk about the impact of Covid shutting everything down. What specifically changed for you?

When it became obvious that we were about to live in a different world for a while, I came to terms pretty quickly with the fact that all the shows I had booked and all the competitions I was signed up for were not gonna happen anymore — and that was okay. I’ve been learning to accept that things that happen are not good or bad, they just are.

“That’s my natural hair, which I’ve never used in my drag look before. My drag is heavy-handed. I draw lips that are up to my nose and down to my chin. That is who Biddy Bee has grown into, and I love it. But I also love this look, because I’ve brought a little more of myself to my act here. I think one of the reasons my drag is so heavy-handed is because I don’t really appreciate a lot of my natural features. The fact that I can really appreciate my hair as part of my drag here is beautiful. And it feels vulnerable.”

What was harder to accept was knowing that I had moved back here to start building my community, and that just wasn’t as possible anymore. I’d love to run for political office eventually — maybe city council or mayor — and the first step in that journey is to become a member of the community. Somebody who can help bring the community together, who purposefully lives close to the Gayborhood, so that after gigs everyone can come over and enjoy themselves and find a community center that serves people. I had to just fully put that on hold.

What happened instead?

I’ve reconnected with my high school best friend, Allie, and together we’ve gotten really creative. We’ve been doing these biweekly-ish live shows where she’ll play piano, I’ll sing, we’ll do duets, we’ll theme them, and we stream those on Twitch. We practice so much, and we get to see each other so often. I realized recently it’s basically a different version of community building — a more intimate microcosm of what I had been imagining. So it turns out I have everything I was looking for and hoping to do, just in a very different format.

No dance parties, though. It’s like, “I was planning on dancing my ass off. What’s happening?”

“This is my friend Allie at the piano during one of our live singing drag streams. Allie is my best friend, the first person I came out to, and the closest friend I have in Philly. She saw me through my brother’s death and trying to get my bearings here, and she pushed me to keep creating art in a digital forum. I don’t know where I would be without her.”

What has Biddy Bee’s pandemic experience been like?

Biddy Bee has actually been doing exceptionally well. I’ve really taken advantage of this opportunity to lean into her and focus on what’s called production capacity, which is something I learned about from reading The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People. Think of a newspaper printer — when the printer is on and printing papers that will be sold, that’s production. Production capacity, on the other hand, is when you see that the printer is a little rusty and slowing down so you take it offline to make repairs and adjustments. And when you’re done, the printer is not only back to its previous speed, but maybe now it’s printing more than ever before. You lose some momentum in an initial production sense, but ultimately you come out the other end better.

“I was planning on dancing my ass off. What’s happening?”

So Biddy Bee has been focused on production capacity — how can I become the most potent version of myself, how can I have the most positive impact on the world possible? Production capacity is a privilege because it requires time to spare and resources to support your endeavors. Ain’t nobody paying you for that!

What’s an example of something you’ve focused on as part of your production capacity?

“This is another one of those dresses sewed by my partner in crime, Sequoia. It’s the first time I feel like I’ve served true glamour and elegance. An up-leveling of my art. This was at my friend Allie’s parents’ house, where we grew up, and to be now in full drag — it was a very self-actualizing moment full of nostalgia. My smile is absolutely genuine. That’s also one of the wigs I styled, and I did the Photoshop — both things I learned how to do during Covid. I live for this photo.”

Wig styling. It’s something where I could pay somebody $150 to do it, and I’m happy to do that every now and then especially to support my community. But sometimes I wanna be able to style my own wig to both save that money and feel ownership over the process. For the longest time, I was just garbage at it. It used to take me eight hours. But during this time I’ve gotten more efficient and effective at it. I recently styled a Mohawk and it took me maybe an hour. It’s one of my favorite hair looks I’ve ever done.

I’ve also been learning to be a little bit less precious with my artistic vision for Biddy Bee. I feel like there’s been a lot of ego when it comes to my art. If something bad is said about Biddy, that is me being bad. It’s too connected to who I am. And ultimately, while I love my drag and I need it as a creative outlet, I will only be holding my drag and my art back if I cannot open my vision such that other people also participate in creating Biddy. Because ultimately with Biddy Bee, I want to create something greater than the sum of its parts.

“Ultimately with Biddy Bee, I want to create something greater than the sum of its parts.”

Specifically, I’ve been working with a new dress designer who I met backstage at a show before Covid. I’ve never worked with a designer before. I’ve always bought stuff off-the-rack, at thrift stores and such, but I know this is what it takes to get to the next level. So I decided to see if we aligned and if we worked well together. And we absolutely do. I took that opportunity to open up, and it meant I found a new partner in crime. My creative faucet is flowing so much better than it was before.

What or who has helped you get through the harder parts of this time?

“I took this photo to send to a work friend on their birthday. The original photo was taken during a company party we had shortly after the company went public last year — which is why the New York Stock Exchange is in the corner. I miss my team a lot. I was missing them even before Covid. I also love how I’m a part of this female-dominated power squad. Not only have I learned a ton from them, but I’ve also never felt pressure to be anything other than myself with them. It’s always been a stunning experience. I also think being myself helped pave the way for some of them to bring more of their authentic selves to work as well. Those smiles in that picture are genuine. We love each other very much.”

I’ve cried plenty of times during Covid, and I thank goodness I’ve been able to, because numbness scares me. It has crept in at times, and that’s what’s paralyzing. So I appreciate when I am able to access emotions like sadness and grief.

My dog Lady is a fantastic source of support. I wasn’t planning on having a dog, but sometimes life happens and an animal falls into your lap. She was my brother’s dog. He passed away last December, and then she came to me. I’m eternally grateful for her — the affection and physical touch. Life works in very weird ways. Out of tragedy came something that really helped me get through it all, and through this global crisis. This is also the first time I’ve ever lived alone, and I just can’t imagine getting through it without Lady.

Living in the same city as Allie has also been so important. She’s the first person I came out to in ninth grade, and we stayed friends all through high school and college. Then Russell Abdo is my other best friend from middle school and high school who is a huge source of support. He was my roommate in California, and we worked together for three years. Russell is my drag momager — part mother, part manager — and he is such a huge creative force in my life, even though we now live on opposite sides of the country.

“Numbness scares me, so I appreciate when I am able to access emotions like sadness and grief.”

The other main support has been my sister, who also moved back to Philadelphia recently. Being able to see her and talk with her in person again has been really important for processing our brother’s passing. Our mother’s grief is very deep, so it’s helpful to have both of us here for her and able take to that on as a family.

I am so sorry to hear about your brother’s passing. Do you want to share more about that here?

My brother passed away December 30th of 2019. We had the memorial planned for literally the week things were starting to get shut down, so we had to make the decision whether to postpone until after Covid or not. We ended up going forward with it — it was very early on when we were just learning about the virus, and so we spaced all the chairs and had the event. No one got Covid, thank goodness, and it was such an important moment for us all in processing our grief. I can’t imagine what it’s like for families who have to delay that.

It was a very stressful set of conversations leading up to it, about our responsibilities and the health and safety of our loved ones. Not fun when the family is grieving and already in a tense, emotional state, but we got through it together. We were able to navigate some really difficult conversations.

As a Thank You for sharing your story with me, I’ll be donating to any person or place of your choosing. You’ve chosen The Trevor Project — tell me more about what it means to you.

For those who don’t know, The Trevor Project provides a 24/7 LGBT hotline, specifically so that anyone feeling suicidal is able to get help and resources, survive that moment, and then access longer term care. It’s a bigger organization than I usually like to give to, but something specific happened during Covid that inspired me to choose them.

As I mentioned, I’ve been live-streaming drag shows on Twitch. And there was one younger, teenage Twitch user who over the course of a few months transitioned. I knew this because at the beginning of Covid their username included the word “boy,” which then became “girl.” And from chatting with them, I learned that they live in a very rural community in Arkansas, where the closest queer people are miles away.

So I was streaming one night and about halfway through the stream, they mentioned they were feeling very suicidal. I decided to stop the show, and everyone who had been watching spent the next 25 minutes staying present with this person and trying to connect them to the Trevor Project, which they hadn’t known about. At first I was a little bit angry with Trevor Project that it was taking so long for us to get through — because this could be the difference between life and death for an LGBTQ+ kid. But then I realized that with Covid, the number of calls The Trevor Project gets has probably gone through the roof. The suicide rate for queer youth is so high as it is. I imagine it’s never been higher than it is today, with the level of social isolation everyone is experiencing. I would like to make sure The Trevor Project has all the resources they need to be able to help the queer community through this time.

To donate to The Trevor Project:

Please visit https://bit.ly/2VjynVy

If you are in need of immediate support, please call the TrevorLifeline at (866) 488–7386 or visit: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/get-help-now/

“Lady stumbled into my life. But if I could do it again, she is 100% the dog I would want. Lady is everything to me. And she goes everywhere with me. I have a little green backpack that I put her in and we bike around the city. This is us in Maryland, in the Chesapeake Bay. Turns out Lady does not like swimming. We kind of assumed she wouldn’t — she weighs eight pounds and Italian Greyhounds have no body fat. She’s sometimes referred to as the Skinny Legend. Even with a life preserver, she was not having it. So the whole day she was just perched up on my shoulder, sunbathing.”