My name is Mac Craighead; I’m a nonbinary writer, event producer, editor, drag artist, and generally an all-around good person. For a long time, I was deeply ashamed of my femininity. I grew up in what I can only describe as the Catholic, Midwestern equivalent to the fictional town of Arlen, Texas, from “King of the Hill” — conservative, for those of you who didn’t watch. I remember visiting my cousins’ farmhouse and enduring games such as “Smear the Queer,” a sport played by straight-up beating up whoever couldn’t catch whatever ball was being thrown at them. I was the common “queer.” Every time I dropped that ball, my femininity was beaten out of me. “Can’t catch, what a girl, right?” I still think about my uncle’s snide remark to his wife, them giggling from the sideline. Let’s flash forward. It would be a good fifteen years later that I finally discovered Brooklyn nightlife. When I eventually mustered up the balls (pun intended) to drag (pun also intended) myself to a queer bar fo...