The drag queen climbed down from the sparkly pink bus, managing to carry a heavy speaker even as the heels of her white ankle boots sank into the gravel driveway.
“Where the hell are we?” she shouted.
“Waldoboro, Maine!” I shouted back.
Miss Gigi Gabour twirled to show off her rainbow dress and hit play on “It’s Raining Men.” I leaned back in the humid grass, surrounded by a dozen new friends, to watch what was quite possibly the first-ever drag show Waldoboro had ever seen.
We were out in Waldoboro, a town on Maine’s central coast best known for its classic diner, visiting two of Ben’s friends who got married and bought a house during the pandemic. This party, host to “Maine’s #1 traveling drag show” Curbside Queens, was their much-delayed celebration. I looked over at Ben and saw his face crinkled with a rare, giant smile. He sat shoulder-to-shoulder with best friends he hadn’t seen in four years.
“Are there any queers out here?!” called Miss Gigi, at the end of her song. We all whooped and cheered. “Thank God,” she said. “The last gig we did was a bachelorette party.”
It felt like a miracle that we were here. I had gotten Covid, slept in the backyard for a week, and tested negative just the day before our flight. I had somehow carved out a few days of actual vacation time between several jobs—just that morning, I’d woken up early to blearily enter final grades for the college-level comics class I’d exhausted myself teaching over the past month. And as Gigi danced around the lawn, I thought about the two enormous homemade Trump 2024 signs that rose along the road to our friends’ house. Despite work, plague, and politics, we were still here.
Life has been full of moments like this recently: joy that we’ve postponed for years, celebrations that feel both bittersweet and surreal when they arrive. Even in the most beautiful times, I’m struck with sadness—I feel the loss of time and friends.
Two weeks later, back in Portland, I was watching another outdoor drag show. A friend and I organized a queer country music bike ride. Now, at golden hour, forty friends and strangers were cheering on Miss Bolivia Carmichaels as she climbed the stairs of a gazebo, twirling the mic and lip-syncing to Reba McEntire’s drawl, “Here’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down!”
Other people who happened to be in the park stopped and gawked, wondering what was going on with all the laughter, bikes, and country music. I felt good to be part of making something fun and weird and beautiful happen. I felt wholesome and loved. But I also thought about my friends who weren’t there, the friends who had moved away, the friends who were too busy making rent, the friends who feared for their lives when they went out in public.
For me, moments of celebration this summer have felt tinged with heartache. Eleanor Davis captures that dichotomous feeling in a beautiful comic about attending a Roe v. Wade protest with her son. She writes: “I’m scared, too. But this is the time we were given together. Now is the time that we have.” I used to take these kinds of events for granted—it wasn’t so special to be surrounded by friends, old and new. Now, every get-together feels like it might be our one moment to snatch some joy before the next terrible thing happens. It’s your one chance, Fancy, don’t let me down.
Upcoming Events
August 10 - Poetry Comics
Come make poetry comics with me and brilliant Oregon poet laureate Anis Mojgani in Laurelhurst Park! The idea is Anis will read a poem and we’ll illustrate it. Sitting under shady trees, drawing, and listening to poetry… what could be better?
August 21 - Abortion Justice Field Day
I’m bringing the zine bike to this day of action for abortion justice. Stop by!
Sept 16-17 - Small Press Expo
I’ll be tabling right next to The Nib and indie comics extravaganza SPX outside Washington, DC. This is my first in-person comics convention since 2019 and I’m excited.
Also: Wednesdays - Office Hours at Grover’s Curiosity Shop
My friend Martha Grover opened this cute lil store on SE 14th and Clinton that sells zines, art, vintage clothes, and weird finds. I’m going to be there from roughly 3pm-7pm on Wednesdays this August and into the fall, working on comics and giving away free zines to cyclists. Say hi if you’re in the neighborhood!
Stuff I Made
Oh No, You Got a Puppy - I made this full-color zine collecting comics about the emotional and exhausting first year of taking care of Twyla. I knew having a puppy was a lot of work, but I had no idea what that actually meant!
Expanded Gender Zine - I updated my zine How the Pandemic Made Me Rethink Gender with new pages with big 2022 feelings.
Stuff I Love
Something That May Shock and Discredit You - I read Daniel M. Lavery’s genre-bending “memoir-adjacent” book about his gender transition during our plane ride back from the East Coast and laughed so much that it disturbed Ben.
Reservation Dogs - My favorite TV show is back for its second season. This funny, heartwarming, wild, original show about four Native friends on a reservation is just straight-up wonderful. (Streaming on Hulu)
Mother Country Radicals - The son of Weather Underground members Bernadine Dohrn and Bill Ayers made this super interesting podcast about the history of 1960s revolutionaries. I learned a lot.
Comics Club - At this outdoor event organized by Liz Yerby, cartoonists project their comics on a screen and do a live reading. Very fun! The next one is on August 20th.
“About Damn Time” - I just can’t stop listening to Lizzo. And why would I??
Wild animals in cities - As photographed by one of my favorite photographers, Corey Arnold, of the July issue of National Geographic. Especially this bear!!
Bolo ties - Look at these bolo ties, I would wear any of them except maybe the “blinged out Jesus” one. Also, my new hobby is making bolo ties. I just ordered the supplies to make 30 bolo ties. I am truly unstoppable. Hot bolo tie summer.
Googling “What to do with too much zucchini” - help I don’t want to just eat zoodles.
What I’m Reading
The Last Graduate by Naomi Novik
When I was trapped in the backyard with Covid, I was desperate to just lay still and listen to an audiobook. The first book in this magical fantasy series by Naomi Novik had a long hold time on Libby, but the second book was available right away, so I just said “screw it” and started listening. One of the tests for a good book should be whether it’s still riveting if you’re dropped in knowing none of the characters or backstory. The Last Graduate was thrilling and interesting enough to hold my attention even in a fevered state.
A Manual for Cleaning Women by Lucia Berlin
I picked up this book at Nationale because the back cover text said she writes with the “grit of Raymond Carver, the humor of Grace Paley, and a blend of wit and melancholy all her own.” I like all those things. Published 11 years after her death, this short story collection holds up to its own hype.
The Book Woman of Troublesome Creek by Kim Michele Richardson
I worried this book would be too cutesy or something, but instead it’s a delightful and juicy historical fiction about discrimination, poverty, and patriarchy, set among the blue people of Kentucky.
+ I wrote about Casey Parks’ Diary of a Misfit in my last newsletter. It’s now out in hardcover so you, too, can read it!
Something to Do
Volunteer or donate to a local abortion fund
As we all know, abortion bans predominantly hurt low-income people. Abortion funds help people cover the costs of seeking abortion—like plane tickets, gas, hotels, and the procedure itself. You can find your local abortion fund here. You can always pitch in by buying a cute shirt (or a more outspoken one).
Bonus photo of Twyla for reading all the way to the bottom of the newsletter!
You're the best, Sarah. Love this! Thanks for writing, creating, sharing and being you out there. <3, Stephanie