William Shakespeare said
that "all the world's a stage,"

and the men and women are merely players.

I must tell you in my experiences
as a drag queen,

I am constantly learning the lesson

between being a player
and playing a character.

We as human beings
all experience the tension

between who it is we think we are
and who the world would have us be.

You see, I have learned so many things on
my journey as a drag queen,

including that by dressing up in drag

I am more alike all of you
than I am different.

Because the truth is
we all learn to dress up in life.

We dress up to find where it is we fit in

with our relationships,
our jobs, and our hobbies.

We dress up to hide from our fears,
our vulnerabilities and insecurities,

the pressure to be thinner, happier,

more successful and confident
versions of ourselves.

We dress up to be what the expectations
of life would have us be.

The CEO with every answer
in a moment of crisis,

the PTA mom that shows up
and never breaks a sweat,

someone else's version
of a perfect son or daughter,

to be the perfect spouse.

We dress up when our social lives
become so busy and full

we have no time to deal with anything
remotely real or emotional.

I have learned as a drag queen

that when we dress up for the sake
and approval of other people,

when we play a character in our real life

because it seems safer and seductive,

we lose the ability to experience
our authentic self,

we get lost playing a character living in
a make-believe world with other characters

instead of a true actor on a stage.

Dressing up in drag is and continues to be

the ultimate act of rebellion
for my Latino, Italian,

conservative, Republican, catholic,
South Texas family

(Laughter) (Applause)

that I was born to be a part of.

(Applause)

It is somewhat exhausting.

Christmas is very interesting.

But this being my family,
I was born in a world

full of expectations and demands
of who I was to be as a man --

a drag queen is not one of them,
but it is who I am.

So, I'll never forget the look
of fear on my mother's face

when I told her that I wanted to dress up
as a woman when I was older too,

just as the other boys were doing
on Jerry Springer.

(Laughter)

I was 5 years old. Why we were watching
Jerry Springer I have no idea.

(Laughter)

But what I remember, being beautiful,
my mother told me was sin.

The truth is, dressing up in drag is,
and continues to be,

the celebration of who I am in my life.

Playing a character has led me back

to the person that I am underneath
the makeup, the player,

living behind a character in
a superficial world that tells all of us

that we could somehow be
better versions of ourselves.

I knew deep down inside growing up

that who I was, was probably
never going to change.

I did everything I could
to convince the world or my family,

that I could be somebody else
on the outside.

I couldn't see what I was getting
myself into at the time,

but drag continues to be
my real journey out of my closet.

Drag is the journey
that has saved my life.

I created a character
out of a desperate act

to reconnect with something
deep and familiar.

When I came out of the closet,
I lost everything I could think of.

I lost my family support,

I lost my sense of love, connection,
belonging, my sense of faith.

I lost everything and everyone in my life

that I was pretending to be
somebody else for.

And at 21 years old
when I looked in the mirror

the person staring back at me was
the biggest stranger I had ever met.

But how could it not be?

I had been encouraged
to live a lie my whole life.

I had learned to push aside
who I was born to be

for whom I needed to play

for a sense of safety and acceptance.

Losing everything was not the game over

that I thought it was to be
like in "Mario".

I had a second chance.

Losing everything was
my authenticity reset,

where my life,
if I could accept who I was,

could be genuine, honest, and true.

So, I created this drag character

to run away from the angry,
scared, insecure boy

that I had become, living in my closet.

You see, as Fonda, I experienced a world

where I was seen as brave,
confidant, and beautiful.

I would stand up and fight
the heteronormative ideal

with my hair spray, glitter,
and stiletto heels.

(Laughter)

For once in my life I felt loved,
celebrated, and accepted.

Every time I put on
the wigs and the makeup

my life became more real.

But so did the monsters
that I was running from.

You see, I learned through
dressing up as Fonda Cox

that the characters
I have been playing in my life

were not the drag characters.

It was Eric, it was the boy
that was never allowed to be,

the boy who had an eating disorder,

the boy who needed you to love him

by always having to be
the center of attention.

It was the boy that pretended
to have gay pride

instead of experiencing and opening up
about his gay shame.

You see, I am so grateful when I finally
started listening to the people around me,

because they help me realize Fonda Cox
and Eric Dorsa are the same person,

that a player cannot exist

if you didn't have a conversation
with the characters in his life.

What Fonda had, I too also had.

The love and acceptance that I would get
being on a stage [were] real.

I have learned that shame is the bully

that drags me to my closet and keeps me
there with the door held shut.

In my closet I learned

to hide my vulnerabilities
and my insecurities from the world,

and in truth, my humanity.

But by letting go of my costumes,

I have taken my closet
and I've made it my ally.

Because what do we put in a closet anyway,

our costumes, our memories,
our belongings?

In a closet they're safe, out of the way,

and we know where to go
when we need to find them.

I have made my closet my ally.

In there, I hid the parts of myself

that I thought the world of the critic
would want nothing to do with.

I still find myself in my closet at times
with the door shut, ready to grab

one of my costumes to put it on
in order to face this world of the critic.

But I tell myself the truth now,

that the audience
on the other side of that door

is a room full of fans, not critics.

People who are ready to look at me and
celebrate me for the player that I am.

A world where I don't need
a costume in order to fit in.

A world where I am met
with love and curiosity, not fear.

You see, Fonda Cox is no longer
a character that I play in my life.

She is and continues to be
my journey out of the closet.

She reminds me of the boy that I am

before I ever heard of gender norms,

before I ever had to step deep
into a gay closet,

before I ever heard from the world or
my family that being me was wrong.

Fonda Cox is what reminds me

of the boy that I was who simply
wanted to play dress up.

She reminds me of the boy that wanted
his mother to paint his nails too,

and "what if" stopped
at absolutely nothing

until he got an Easy-Bake oven.

You see, I have learned
that when we live our lives

in secrecy behind a closet door,

we separate and fear ourselves
from those who closely resemble who it is

that we are trying to hide from the world.

We live in a reality of us versus them,

where we hope people see
who it is we're pretending to be,

instead of who we really are.

I ask you, how do you play
dress up in your life?

What characters do you find
yourself playing?

The character could not exist
if it weren't for the actor

because this is the you
that belongs in your life.

This is the you that we want to see,

this is the you that deserves
to be loved and celebrated.

This is the 'you' you were born to play.

Thank you very much.

(Applause)