Celebrating Authenticity, Joy, and Resilience at Hamburger Mary's

As anti-queer rhetoric and legislation gains traction in the U.S, queer spaces are becoming increasingly under threat. One such space, a cherished sanctuary of mine, is a drag bar in my city called Hamburger Mary’s.

To me, it’s more than just a restaurant with tasty burgers, brunches, and mimosas or a theater venue with dazzling drag performances that light up the stage. It's a vibrant, inclusive haven where the LGBTQIA+ community and allies come together to celebrate authenticity, joy, and resilience. This sense of community and pride empowers me to continue living as my authentic self beyond the disco balls and decorated walls of Mary’s, where laws and public discourse question our right to love, express, and simply be. Every time I see a show, I look around the room and see people from all walks of life, queens and audience members alike, making noise and taking up space and refusing to reject who they are despite feeling the pressure on all sides to do just that.

As a bisexual, drag queens are the best of both worlds for me, but in addition to being sexy as hell and extremely talented, it’s the way they so unapologetically and fabulously declare “this is who am!” to the world that I love most about them. To put yourself on display both literally and metaphorically when visibility often equals danger is an act of both courage and defiance that I deeply admire. This is as true for the queens that confidently strut their stuff through the aisles as it is for the queer folks cheering them on. We live boldly and speak our truth even when the cost is so deeply personal. Families have rejected us, we’ve been discriminated against, places where we once felt safe now feel overtly hostile, our identities are relentlessly politicized, and yet we endure.

Luckily we’re not alone - for LGBTQIA+ folks who may feel exhausted, scared, or simply unable to keep fighting every day, allies can help carry the weight. At the beginning of a show, the queens will usually ask if there’s any allies in the audience and the cheers I hear from scattered people in the crowd fill me with hope each and every time. Hope, admiration, and gratitude. Anyone who stands in unwavering support of the LGBTQIA+ community is putting themselves at risk, even people who aren’t queer themselves, but they continue to share our struggle. Allies know that when someone who doesn’t have to care chooses to anyway, it sends a message that queer lives are not just valid, but valued and that being able to be who you are and love who you love is a non-negotiable human right for everyone.

To all the allies out there: continuing to not take a passive stance even though doing so would take the target off your back, to not listen to the voices - often very loud ones - telling you to shut up and keep quiet takes a level of courage that matters now more than ever.

Speaking of allies, my favorite one sits across from me at every show - my mom. Whenever the queens see her, a gray-haired 67-year-old, there’s hope on their impeccably made-up faces. For young queer folks, seeing older people stand as LGBTQ allies is profoundly meaningful because it defies the weight of the era they were raised in where queerness was often hidden, shamed, or criminalized. After the queens take her dollars and blow her a kiss or say “thank you, honey!”, she turns back to look at me, flushed from the attention of the queens and a few too many mimosas, and in her eyes I see a deep love, admiration, and respect for all of us in the queer community, but most importantly, I see a fierce determination to protect us at all costs.

She often wears pro-LGBTQ clothing or an ally pin in public and is always on guard, ready to argue and defend, especially since we live in a red state. I see the dirty looks she gets, but she doesn’t care. I’m an only child, and in her mind, I think she considers herself a mom/grandma to all my queer brothers and sisters, especially those whose own families - the ones who were supposed to love them unconditionally - disowned them. My best friend, Ethan, is a trans man and unfortunately he was rejected by his family when he came out, but luckily my mom and I were there to support him, adopting his new name and pronouns like it was second nature. It’s folks like Ethan that her heart breaks for the most, and this year she’s going to wear a “Free Grandma Hugs” shirt to Pride. She’s not a grandma, but she’s old enough to be one and she knows how much it would mean to people to feel the love, acceptance, and pride that they deserve from an old person, the demographic least likely to be an ally.

She is a prime example of why “it’s just how we were raised” or “old habits die hard” or “back in my day we didn’t have any of this nonsense” is no excuse. She makes a conscious effort to educate herself, and I do my best to teach her, ever-grateful to have the kind of support that a lot of queer folks are robbed of and beyond proud of her empathy, compassion, bravery, loyalty, strength, and resolve.

While my mom was raised to have an open heart and mind and rejected the kind of judgment, biases, and hateful beliefs that many boomers were taught, sadly many of her fellow cohorts refuse to let go of that homophobia and bigotry. But every now and then, in the audience at Mary’s or out in the wild, I’ll see a person my mom’s age wearing a “recovering bigot” shirt or something similar and I want to commend these folks as well, because choosing to confront the biases you once held and unlearning them takes courage too. Their journey doesn’t erase the past, but it does serve as a testament to the power of empathy over tradition. It's a reminder that it’s never too late to choose love, to grow, and to stand on the side of dignity and humanity.

Hamburger Mary’s is a place where people of all ages can enjoy a meal, share a laugh, and experience the magic of drag in a supportive environment, but it also shows us that while queer spaces may be under threat, they are also bursting with life, laughter, and resistance. It reminds us that, in a world that often feels hostile to our existence, there is still joy to be found, progress to be made, and love powerful enough to push back against hate. The courage to resist can be found in all of us, whether it’s in the dazzling confidence of a drag queen, the commendable and essential support of allies, or the rejection of harmful lifelong beliefs. Mary's is a place where we can all come together to celebrate our identity, support one another, and tell the world that we are here, we are proud, and we are surrounded - thankfully - by people who will always choose love over hate no matter what.