Let me tell you something, baby … Sometimes, the only thing standing between you and the life of your dreams is a whole lot of delusion and a decent eyelash glue. And I mean that with love.
There’s an art to believing in yourself. Especially when the world has told you not to. When you grow up queer, weird, too loud, too sparkly, too “much,” you get used to applause being something you give yourself in the mirror after surviving another day. You learn how to celebrate your own victories, no matter how small, because no one else is handing you a trophy for finally feeling at home in your skin.
So you become your own hype team. You clap. You strut. You serve – whether the room is packed or it’s just your cat giving you side-eye from the windowsill.
And that, my loves, is where the magic begins.
I want to speak directly to the baby queens, the first-time performers, the shy creatives sewing rhinestones into hope. The ones who are trying something new, showing up to open mics, launching Etsy shops, painting their feelings onto canvases, or gluing on lashes for the first time with hands that are shaking.
I see you. And I’ve been you.
There was a time when I stood backstage and thought, “I don’t belong here.” There was a time when I was just Charlie – figuring it out, doubting everything, and hoping that someday, someone would believe in me enough to say, “You’ve got it, kid.” But until that day came? I had to say it to myself.
That’s where delusion comes in.
Not the kind of delusion that blinds you to reality, but the kind that keeps you warm when the world is cold. The kind that whispers, You are fabulous, even if you’re sweating through a wig cap and your duct tape is failing. The kind that keeps you creating when no one is watching – because you know in your soul, someone will be watching one day, and they’ll need to see you shine.
We don’t talk enough about how brave it is to be seen. Not just on stage, but in life. To walk through this world as your true self – queer, colorful, complicated – is a radical act of resistance and divine fabulousness.
So yes, be delusional. Audition for the show. Apply for the job. Post the video. Start the business. Walk into that bar in full drag with your head held high, even if your tights are ripped and your shoe is squeaking. Own it. Own you.
Because if you don’t believe in yourself, baby, how will anyone else know how?
And if no one claps for you? Clap louder. Clap first. Clap with the nails you hot-glued on 10 minutes before curtain call.
I’m clapping for you now.
