How a drag performance artist and teacher spends Sundays
When Kelindah Schuster entered the Brooklyn drag scene, the idea that someone was assigned female at birth to perform high femme drag was controversial.
MX. Schuster, who uses they/their pronouns, pushed back. “Women know a lot about the limitations of femininity,” they said. “Why shouldn't we have the opportunity to play and experiment and subvert those things?”
It was through dragging that Mx. Schuster, 30, realized they were trans. Drag shows became a place where they could subvert their femininity and transform from “high femme princess” to “grotesque, wild animal that wants to eat you alive” – a “cat-caller's worst nightmare.”
Since 2017, MX. Schuster appears as the non-binary Theydy bedbug at famous LGBTQ locations such as the Stonewall Inn, 3 dollar bill And House of Yes.
In 2021, MX. Schuster launched the Between and beyond gender program Brooklyn Art Exchange to help students of all genders develop drag personas. “Towing is for everyone,” they said.
They also conduct theatrical workshops for children and have consulted on gender inclusion for a pediatric therapy network and the New York City Department of Education.
MX. Schuster lives with their partner in Crown Heights, Brooklyn, Weird honey30, and dog Remmy, a whippet/cocker spaniel mix.
THE BROOKLYN INSECT If I perform drag on Saturday night, it will be Sunday morning. Maybe I'll perform at a DIY queer venue like Rubulad or Purgatory, or with my partner, Rara Darling, at House of Yes. My drag is definitely very Brooklyn. Manhattan drag tends to be more polished, beautiful, and hyper-feminine. Brooklyn drag is rougher and more experimental. It's not afraid to be dirty, weird or messy. Without Brooklyn I definitely wouldn't have the name Bedbug!
People are so afraid of drag because it really upsets comfortable views. But I have seen firsthand how it can be deeply healing and connecting for people of all ages.
BLACK OUT My partner and I get home from our gigs around 3am, lugging around giant suitcases of costumes. We each have our own tow space, and I put my stuff in mine. In previous versions of my house, Theydy Bedbug and Kelindah shared a room, which created a lot of tension between my character and myself, because drag is messy. I remove my eyelashes, remove my gemstones and remove my makeup. I put on an eye mask, put in earplugs and draw the curtains completely.
SHORT BREAK At one point my dog, Remmy, wakes me up. I take him out, feed him, then go back to bed, cuddle my partner and do a yoga nidra meditation to fall back asleep. My Sundays are a holy day of rest.
A SUNDAY LOVE We try to make Sunday breakfast intentional. We put on music, usually starting with Etta James. We can also hear the local church music outside. It's a nice little alarm. We make pancakes and eggs or luxurious hummus toast with tomatoes.
DOG TIME At 10 or 11 o'clock we take Remmy for a walk through Lincoln Terrace Park, or we go to Prospect Park. I have several friends who live just a block away and I have relationships with the local vendors: my hairdresser, my mechanic, the people at the laundromat. Sometimes I see them on our dog walk. Maybe we'll stop by Lakou Café to get a patty and a smoothie.
CHAOS AND ORDER My drag room is usually covered in costumes and props on Sundays, so I spend a few hours putting everything away. During the pandemic, all my performances were canceled. I felt financial stress, but also a huge sigh of relief. It was an indication that the way I was doing drag – performance after performance after performance – just wasn't sustainable. I set the intention to live my life differently and drag differently. My partner and I started this thing called Holy Sundays. We disconnect from work, take care of the space, ourselves and each other.
BEYOND GENDER This month I'm directing a festival called YouthWorks at the Brooklyn Arts Exchange for artists ages 8 to 18. Children come up with an idea for an art form – it could be theatre, dance or poetry – and then bring it to fruition. It's a completely free program, which is great because it's accessible. It's about creating space for students to express themselves, to feel comfortable taking risks.
I know it is successful when I see a child who felt very insecure at the beginning of the session, step onto the stage, share his idea and receive a lot of confirmation from the other children. That is the deepest fulfillment for me. I am not primarily an artist and conveniently a teacher; teaching is part of my art. It is the core of who I am.
SALT AND SPICE In a perfect world, my partner would put something in the slow cooker in the morning and have it ready by evening. They make a chicken curry dish that I really love. My partner is Jewish and I grew up in Southeast Asia, so they like it very salty, and I like it very spicy.
PEACE AND STRESS We eat in front of the TV, because dinner turns into costumes with rhinestones. I recently spent many, many Sundays rhinestone-making a dreidel costume with Swarovski-style blue crystals. My partner wore it for a duet act we are doing where they are a sexy dreidel and I am a local schmuck who is nervous and excited to receive a dance from them. We start drinking wine, something dark red – especially in winter – and move on to tea, something soothing like lavender, peppermint and rose.
A large part of my work is about my identity: sharing my vulnerability and making space for the vulnerability of others. It's a gift, but it's also exhausting. There's nothing I want more on a Sunday than not having to deal with the world. Drag is completely taking over our home and our lives, so Holy Sunday is what allows me to truly appreciate it.