In the 1980s I lived in the East Village, and as I was strolling around the neighborhood one day with a couple of Puerto Rican friends, we noticed that a large group of drag queens were strutting up and down the street, and everyday people were going about their daily activities wearing wigs, not properly arranged on their heads but placed there as a hat, a quirky flourish, and a statement. It was Wigstock, the festival of drag performances founded in 1984 as a response to the hostile anti-LGBTQ environment fostered by the state’s reaction to the AIDS crisis and the neighborhood’s increasing gentrification. My friends and I quickly donned wigs and headed to Tompkins Square, where the stage had been set up for the performances. Dressed in extravagantly creative outfits and over-the-top, towering wigs, the queens on stage were by turns shady, empowering, and campy, all the while promoting...

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