Phatima Rude has been reborn
by Mama Celeste
I first fell in love with Phatima Rude on Valentine’s Day. I don’t remember much else about that night at The Stud, but I know I was there to cruise and not necessarily to go see drag.
And yet there she was — right when I walked in. Naked. Sitting with her exposed butthole on the pool table. Covered in paper hearts she had stapled to her tits and face and thighs. A grotesque missed connections board with hand-scrawled love notes, dirty little secrets, and invitations to meet up in the bathroom stalls. I like to imagine a couple who met this way, and will have to regale their grandchildren with this story one day.
I didn’t know Phatima well, and I couldn’t honestly tell you if she knew who I was. But I revered her. All of us did. Do still. She performed from the tip of her press-on toenails to the stubble of her bald head. An actual legend — like the Big Foot or the Jersey Devil — a cryptid of local lore that seemed much less real after you told your friends about what you had seen. “No they’re real staples, I swear!”
When people think of what defines Bay Area drag, the first word is rarely glamour. It’s the bearded queens. The alternative kings. The disruptive and messy and unpolished gender multi-hyphenates. We have elders like Phatima to thank for that.
If you never got to see her perform or worse if this is your first time hearing the name Phatima Rude, you have some homework between now and Sunday May 19th >>
A few years ago at a New Year’s Eve party, Hollow Eve and I got to talking. Earlier that year they had thrown an amazing tribute on the one year anniversary of the day Phatima died, still one of the best shows I’ve ever seen. It began with performers emerging from an adult-size geodesic womb and ended with them bathing in the water of the venue’s sprinkler system while lipsyncing to Celine Dion’s titanic theme song. Phatima’s heart surely went on that night.
It was over the top. And raw. And hilarious. And emotional. And fucking expensive, I’m sure! “I bet we could get a grant to do it again,” we decided.
And indeed we did! Kudos to The Kenneth Rainin Foundation for believing in a bunch of queers and freaks hellbent on destroying the art of drag as we know it. It’s gonna be wild. With Hollow at the helm, it can’t not be.
It feels right that Oaklash weekend happens to coincide with the anniversary of Phatima’s passing every year on the third weekend of May. Oaklash is, as much as anything else, a historical project that aims to honor the generations that laid the groundwork for a queer performance festival like ours to exist while celebrating the next pantheon of legendary children and giving them a platform to thrive. We wouldn’t be where we are without Phatima and others like her who pushed the boundaries of what drag was, who made their art their life, and couldn’t help but exude authenticity to every single person who they came in contact with.
This iteration of Rebirth will be very different than the first. (Check out clips from the last one here) Or so I’ve been told. I actually don’t really know what is in store. I’ve asked Hollow not to tell me. I need plausible deniability! I’m just here to get people paid. I want to be as shocked and disgusted as everyone else day of.
And I cannot wait 😈
Rebirth: The Death of Drag
Sunday, May 18th, 2024 @ Omni Commons • 21+ Only • Funeral starting at 6PM
Performances at 8PM & 9PM by Hollow Eve, Jillian Gnarling, Kochina Rude, Pseuda, Aya Dapt, La Chucha, Krimm, Uphoria Glitter, Dvvsk & Hollywood Texas