I learnt femininity from my mother. Watching her get ready for work every day and raiding her closet for sarees and jewellery to roleplay a grown woman was my orientation into gender expression. But in my teenage years, we grew apart. Her comments about my body and my un-ladylike hobbies inflicted a shame that I coped with by turning into a tomboy. Which also turned out to be empowering. Later in life, when I began forming deep friendships with other women in college, I found myself going back to a more feminine identity.

Through these phases, I learnt in my own way that gender, at its core, is a performance — a set of behaviours and expressions we learn and repeat based on what the world expects from us. It’s not fixed or innate, but shaped by culture, context, and choice. Drag takes that idea and turns it into art. It exaggerates, subverts, and reimagines gender, showing us how fluid and playful identity can be. In drag, masculinity and femininity become storytelling devices.

Within this world of fluid identity and heightened expression, the idea of drag motherhood holds a special place. A drag mother is a guide, a nurturer, and often the first person to truly witness and affirm a younger artist's individuality. In a scene that thrives on performance, glamour, and reinvention, the drag mother offers both creative direction and emotional grounding. They teach their drag child everything from contouring and choreography to confidence and community-building. But above all, they create a space where the child feels safe enough to be and express themselves. This bond forms the heart of many drag families, where care and craft go hand in hand.

Patruni Chidananda Sastry, who has been a drag performer for over 12 years, draws a compelling connection between drag motherhood and the Guru-Shishya Parampara, the traditional Indian system of mentorship in performance arts. As a Bharatanatyam dancer, Patruni sees this lineage-based exchange mirrored in drag culture. “The entire idea of this Guru-Shishya Parampara is prominent in all kinds of performance art within India,” they note, adding that it also exists in queer traditions like the Hijra Guru-Chela system.

Patruni also likens drag motherhood in India to a Gharana — a familial artistic lineage, in artist communities like Kuchipudi or Bharatanatyam or Gotipua where stylization, identity, and creative practices are passed down. They reference traditional art forms like Gotipua from Odisha, where young boys dress as women and are trained by a guru, adopting the stylizing, the repertoire, and the way the parent of the Gharana presents themselves. Patruni tells us that principles of neo-drag motherhood (what they do) and the traditional drag (like these expressive dance forms) are similar.

But even if drag motherhood in rooted in craft, it isn't limited to it.“Being a mother means taking yourself out of the space of being an artist,” Patruni says, pointing out that the nurturing instincts of a drag mother differ from the self-focused lens of a performer. A drag mother must “uncheck the idea of the artist’s lens” and take on the role of a teacher and protector. It’s about creating space, offering tools, and guiding the child through everything from performance concepts to navigating gig payments, and even protecting their identities from their natal families who may not be aware of their gender and sexuality.

Many biological parent-child relationships — especially mothers and daughters are characterised by entangled identities. There's a popular unattributed quote that goes: "Mothers and daughters existing as wretched mirrors of each other: I am all you could have been, and you are all I might be." It speaks to the complex emotional terrain of this bond. It captures a dynamic where each generation sees both potential and regret reflected in the other, often leading to a painful mirroring of aspirations, missed opportunities, and projected futures.

This reflection, while deeply connective, can also become a source of tension formed by expectations turning into into burdens, and individuality compromised by inherited hopes. In contrast, drag motherhood deliberately resists this entanglement. Rather than seeing their children as extensions of themselves, drag mothers strive to nurture autonomy, ensuring that the legacy they pass down is one of care, not control.

Patruni says that the goal of drag motherhood is to provide space for autonomy, disagreement, and difference — the very qualities that nurture individuality and authenticity. In this way, drag families become inclusive ecosystems where contrasting opinions are not just tolerated but embraced as a sign of mutual respect.

This openness also extends to the structure of mentorship itself. Patruni reflects on how traditional Indian artistic lineages, like the aforementioned Guru-Shishya Parampara, are steeped in hierarchy — where the guru is held “extremely high or above you”, limiting a student’s ability to follow their own artistic conscience. Drag families, however, intentionally subvert that model. “It should be more like how we support each other and have a dialogue than that of passing it down from top to bottom,” Patruni insists. This approach transforms the relationship into a conversation, allowing both drag mother and child to learn from each other.

As a term coined by legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, 'intersectionality' refers to how various forms of social stratification like caste, class, gender, and sexuality, intersect to create unique modes of discrimination or privilege. And drag families, one would hope, could be sanctuaries from these. But Patruni tells us that although intersectionality is a consideration, in reality, some drag families in India often become monocultural in their politics and ideas and that this can border on cultishness.

What they’re pointing to is a deeper truth: that drag families, like all social structures, are susceptible to the same exclusions they might seek to challenge. “There is no conscious caste inclusion. You’ll often find a singular caste identity reflected in a drag family,” Patruni says, drawing a parallel with Indian classical dance, a space also historically dominated by upper-caste performers. This isn’t always the result of overt exclusion — but of inherited social biases that go unexamined.

There is however an aesthetic gatekeeping that caters to certain visual archetype. "There are times where drag artists only child somebody who look a certain way or have a specific body, which is a little bit of a problem" says Patruni. This isn't about caste directly, but it does reflect another form of selectivity — one rooted in beauty ideals and performance style, which can sideline artists who don’t align with dominant aesthetics. The takeaway is not to dismiss drag’s potential, but to engage with it more critically. Because if drag families are to be spaces of chosen kinship, then that choosing must itself be questioned.

Lady Gaga recently broke a record with her free concert at Copacabana Beach in Brazil when 2.5 million people came out to see her perform. This was a special moment in history not simply because of the numbers but in what her fandom represents — queer solidarity. Known affectionately as 'Mother Monster', Gaga has long embraced a maternal role toward her fans, calling them her 'Little Monsters'. At the same time she has also been an ally to the LGBTQIA+ community, admitting that it was gay men that taught her how to be a woman.

This mutual respect between the community that guides, witnesses, and uplifts each other also lies at the heart of drag motherhood. American novelist Mary Rakow says that, sometimes, being seen is the same thing as being saved. And shameful pages of history like the Lavender Scare all the government malicious neglect towards the AIDS epidemic, will tell you that the queer life is a delicate thing that must be protected.

Born from this fragility was a radical openness and sensitivity that makes way for unapologetic selfhood. Drag motherhood is a relationship based in this courage to be seen and to see someone wholly, to believe in their becoming, and to hold space for them as they shape themselves.

Follow Patruni here.

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