Drag Artists Unite Against Kennedy Center Takeover

When Donald Trump recently orchestrated his “takeover” of the Kennedy Center—firing its former leadership and installing himself as chairman of the board—many in the arts community wondered whether this was some theatrical stunt that would blow over. Yet his subsequent promise to ban drag shows and “woke programming” revealed intentions that are considerably graver. Few establishments carry the symbolic weight of the Kennedy Center, a space that’s historically championed diverse voices and innovative creative expressions. Suddenly, that venerated venue finds itself a battleground for ideological conflict, and the reverberations of this will no doubt be felt by performers and audiences worldwide.

The response from the drag community was swift and fearless. On 8 March, a crowd of drag queens, drag kings, and their allies gathered at Washington Circle, about half a mile away from the Kennedy Center, before making their way en masse to the institution’s doorstep. They carried placards, rainbow flags, and a buoyant spirit tinged with unmistakable outrage. At the event’s commencement, drag king Lord Henry addressed the assembly: “We demand that the Kennedy Center Board reinstate queer programming, including but not limited to drag-oriented workshops and shows… We want to force Congress to drop the multiple attempts at criminalising gender non-conformity.” In other words, this protest isn’t just about preserving a few shows; it’s about protecting an entire community’s right to express itself on some of America’s most prestigious stages.

The March and the Rally

From afar, it might be tempting to view the protest as yet another demonstration in a long line of rallies in Washington, D.C. But this one has a distinctly theatrical flair. Drag artistry is, by its very nature, subversive. It challenges mainstream norms about gender, performance, and authenticity. Over the last decade, drag culture has increasingly nudged its way into public consciousness, thanks in part to televised competitions and social media. But there’s something about a live protest—particularly one that culminates on the steps of an iconic arts institution—that showcases the movement’s dynamism in a way that no edited broadcast ever could.

Among those who took the microphone at the Kennedy Center was drag queen Tara Hoot, who has previously performed within those illustrious walls. “A man who hasn’t even stepped foot inside of there has no business deciding what art is or isn’t,” she declared, referencing Trump’s new role. “They are trying to take over the Kennedy Center to stop our stories from being heard, but we will never stop telling our stories… Our queer stories are American stories.” The crowd roared in agreement. It’s a remarkable moment when an institution famously aligned with American cultural heritage is being called to account for shutting out queer narratives. Even more remarkable is how swiftly the drag community is mobilising, affirming a long tradition of resistance that runs through LGBTQIA+ history—from the Stonewall riots to modern-day marriage equality campaigns.

Fallout from the Takeover

When a high-profile arts venue undergoes a political upheaval, the reverberations don’t stop at the protest lines. Renowned productions have begun withdrawing from the Kennedy Center in protest of Trump’s policies. The globally celebrated musical HAMILTON, for instance, cancelled upcoming performances, a decision reportedly made by Lin-Manuel Miranda and producer Jeffrey Seller. Meanwhile, comedian Issa Rae has also stepped away from commitments at the venue. This wave of cancellations suggests that artists and producers aren’t waiting around to see whether the new regime will truly eradicate so-called “woke programming.” Instead, they’re voting with their feet—and their tickets.

But it doesn’t end there. A World Pride concert featuring the Gay Men’s Chorus of Washington, D.C. was axed, the post-Broadway engagement of EUREKA DAY (a show tackling anti-vaxxer rhetoric) has been shelved, and even FINN—a children’s musical about a shark, commonly seen as a clever allegory for LGBTQIA+ experiences—was scrapped. It’s quite the purge, revealing an undercurrent of ideological censorship that goes beyond a single type of performance. Drag is the lightning rod right now, but broader queer storytelling is being effectively sidelined.

The Donor Dilemma

There’s an old adage in theatre: “No money, no show.” The Kennedy Center, like most major cultural institutions, relies heavily on donor funding. Advocacy group Qommittee has seized on this reality, circulating a petition that urges donors to suspend financial support until artistic independence is restored. As of this writing, the petition has garnered nearly 40,000 signatures—a figure that’s nothing to sneeze at. Corporate sponsors, philanthropic foundations, and individual patrons often pride themselves on championing artistic freedom. If they follow Qommittee’s directive and start pulling their funding, the Kennedy Center could find itself in dire straits.

Blaq Dinamyte, Qommittee’s president, spoke bluntly at the protest: “These bans hit our communities first, but they never stop with us. And to the donors and supporters who fund the Kennedy Center—your money is now funding censorship. If you stand for artistic freedom, stop writing checks to institutions that ban artists and start supporting those of us who’ve been silenced and pushed off stage!” This statement highlights an issue that extends beyond drag: it concerns everyone who believes in an arts ecosystem free from the whims of political interference. For a long time, large donors have used cultural sponsorship to align themselves with progressive, inclusive values. Now, they’re being forced to reconcile that public image with the harsh reality of the Kennedy Center’s new direction.

Drag as Democratic Expression

One detail that truly stands out here—and might surprise those who’ve only encountered drag through glossy TV segments—is how entrenched in social activism drag actually is. Blaq Dinamyte underscored this point: “They target drag because we are liberation. Our art makes a world where you can be who you are—whoever that is. We are a threat to governments that want to control how we live and express ourselves.” The flamboyant costumes, the transformative makeup, and the captivating performances are, at their heart, a political act that insists on bodily autonomy and authentic self-expression. This isn’t just about entertainment; it’s about the right to exist publicly and proudly. Therein lies the real threat to those who’d prefer a more uniform, less challenging cultural narrative.

The drama unfolding at the Kennedy Center right now has all the hallmarks of a grand theatrical production: a powerful antagonist, resilient protagonists, a stage steeped in historical significance, and an audience eagerly watching every twist. But the stakes couldn’t be more genuine. For the drag community, and indeed the broader LGBTQIA+ world, this fight is about more than just performance rights or programming slots—it’s about safeguarding the very soul of an art form that has always been a beacon of protest and pride.

As I think back to that drag king in Sydney, I realise that the real magic of drag lies in its refusal to be anything other than gloriously, unapologetically itself. If we allow institutions like the Kennedy Center to capitulate to narrow definitions of what’s “acceptable,” we risk losing that spark of creative defiance that fuels progress in the arts. It’s a spark that leaps across oceans and echoes in our own Australian theatres. And if there’s one thing we know about theatre, it’s that no matter how forbidding the stage or how rigid the script, the cast always has the power to improvise a different ending. Here’s hoping the next act is one of liberation, renewed funding for creative independence, and a heartfelt encore for the drags, queens, and kings who refuse to let their voices be muted. Their stories, after all, are part of the grand chorus that makes our global arts community sing.