Queens of caracas ★

12 min read

As violence and turmoil continue to beset the Venezuelan capital, its drag community has positioned itself at the forefront of a DIY fightback – one that refuses to stand by and watch the city crumble.

Text and photography: Lexi Parra

Walcott finishes his makeup in the mirror. He calls his style ‘monster drag’ – a more androgynous take on the form.

It’s 11pm at Club Cul*, a covert drag club hidden within a disused corporate building situated on the affluent east side of Caracas, Venezuela. Located in the neighbourhood of Altamira – the city’s largest business district – the space is home to both a national bank and medical insurance provider during the day. But for the past few years, the remaining offices in the building have been empty. During working hours, security guards wander the largely vacant premises, eyes glazed over from the boredom. People do not visit; the elevator to the upper two floors no longer works. →

* The name of the club has been changed for privacy

“Shortly before this issue went to press, I received news that Aron – the inspiration for this story – had died. We decided to keep his contribution to the larger piece, as well as the updates he provided just before his death, because Aron dedicated his life to drag. He exemplified the culture. He was a true force who became a legend for his community – his dedication to his fellow queens went unparalleled. It was an honor to know him and it means a great deal to be able to share his world with you all. Rest in power, Queen Arona.” – Lexi

But at night, Club Cul moves in – and the space transforms entirely. Step inside, through an unassuming beige door, and a blast of music hits you as bright neon lights dance along the walls. Through the crowd, the stage comes into view, lined with electric blue tassels and framed with two small TV screens.

The patrons – sporting shiny watches and spiked stiletto heels – take to their seats as the music fades and the room fills with anticipation. Then, as a lively salsa beat starts to play, the stage explodes with colour: four drag queens, wearing intricate headpieces that tickle the ceiling, whirl onto the platform. Backstage dancers follow, moving through the audience as feathers and glitter fly through the air. The crowd erupts. This is what they came to see.

Outside of these four walls, Venezuela remains in crisis. It started with the death of revolutionary president Hugo Chávez and the election of his successor, Nicolás Maduro, whose