Chappell Roan took a pause from her set list on Saturday and addressed the pink-clad crowd that ran tens of thousands of people deep on the lawn at the Liberty Memorial in Kansas City, Missouri.
The “Good Luck Babe” singer, who credits drag and queer art for inspiring her rise to the A-list, delivered an impassioned message of support to her LGBTQ+ fans.
“Despite everything happening in the world, the only thing that matters to me is keeping queer people safe,” she said, igniting roars from the audience.
An unabashed queer pop icon, Roan performed two pop-up concerts this past weekend in Kansas City, where she saw her first drag show and realized she can be whomever she wants in the world. That includes covering her face with white makeup, a look that she adopted as a response to the taunts she heard slung towards gay people in her small home town outside of Springfield.
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“What’s wrong with being a clown?” she wondered aloud.
Absolutely nothing.
Pink Pony Club
Though Roan recently performed in New York City and has shows scheduled in L.A. this upcoming weekend, there’s no doubt Kansas City was a special stop for the “Midwestern Princess.” An estimated 60,000 people descended upon K.C. and showered local businesses with rainbow cash, stopping at the Missouri native’s favorite bars, coffee shops and eateries.
At a time when popular institutions and the federal government itself is trying to suppress queer expression, “Pink Pony Clubbers” turned up in a deep red state.
“I always dreamed I could dress up and wear whatever makeup I wanted to,” said Roan Saturday during her interlude, “and not get made fun of.”
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Walking towards the Liberty Memorial, amid a sea of gays and theys with hot pink hair and bedazzled cowboy hats, it was apparent that nobody feared being judged on this night. The scene represented an optimistic glimpse into America, where images of masked and armed federal agents terrorizing urban communities are now omnipresent on our TV screens and social media feeds.
The grim realities facing so many people in our country can make it difficult to think we will ever find a way out.
As a native Bostonian and current Chicagoan, I am leery of descending into a smaller Midwestern town and serving up cheesy generalizations on the heartland’s mood. I will spare you my observations about finding the “real America” in a Vietnamese coffee house on the side of the road, or waxing poetic about the groups of gays enjoying a sun-soaked Sunday Funday on the patio of their neighborhood dive bar.
Instead, I will offer this. As I was waiting in line for my $28 vodka and lemonade with glitter, my eyes stumbled upon the perfect encapsulation of the weekend: a twink in a pink dress, white stockings and Converse, scanning the crowd with his phone in hand.
There he was, standing proud, admiring his fuscia-tinged kingdom.
“You don’t have to understand everything about me or anybody else in this group,” said Roan. “All I ask is that you just… listen.”
Then she returned to her set, and everyone in the crowd sang their pink little hearts out.
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