He’s the oldest drag king in the world — and he’s still waiting for his big break | United States

I had cleaned houses seven days in a row. His knee hurt from a fall and he didn’t have the money to buy a bag to transport the suits from Fresno, California, to Los Angeles. But Elsie Saldaña waited decades for her big break, so she packed her clothes in white trash bags and headed to the Silver Lake bar where she’s the night’s featured performer.

Earlier in the week, Saldaña had received a letter from the Guinness Book of World Records, officially naming her the drag king oldest in the world.

81 years old, decades older than the other women who will perform as men that night. But her hips still move well enough that an audience member asked her a month ago if she had surgery.

Saldaña uses a little makeup to hide her wrinkles and her dyed black hair, but her hips are natural. If she moves them well tonight, maybe she can charm some women.

Climb a flight of stairs to the dressing area and hang the trash bags on a metal shelf. Saldaña has been in Los Angeles for less than 24 hours and has already missed her nap time and fallen face first on a sidewalk, scraping her nose and knee. The fall took away his confidence and energy, and he is afraid of disappointing the public. “I’m nervous,” he says to another king. “My knees are shaking.”

Open the first trash bag. In her normal life, Saldaña fills bags with trash, but tonight she takes out a suit western blue — an offer from another drag king. It’s beautiful, freshly ironed and dressier than anything else Saldaña owns. Put it on and the sad, exhausted woman that was Elsie Saldaña begins to transform. Now it’s El Daña.

“Ready,” he says to his own reflection. “I’m ready.”

Frank Sinatra in the fields

Saldaña became drag king without ever having seen one. It was 1965. I was a month shy of my 21st birthday, and as soon as I heard there was a gay bar in Fresno with gay shows, lip syncasked the owner to let her audition with La Bambaby Richie Valens.

In central California there were no drag kings At that time, there weren’t any gay role models around—unless you count the San Francisco boys who considered themselves drag queens. But Saldaña didn’t need anyone to learn to be herself. He had four brothers and, as long as he could remember, he wore their clothes and imitated their movements. In the fields where she and her family picked figs and cotton, she imagined herself as Frank Sinatra singing to a crowd.

Her throat tightened when she went on stage that first time, but as soon as the record started playing, her hips took over and, shortly after, the bar owner already guaranteed her a monthly performance.

The six decades that passed between Saldaña’s first performance and his most recent were, on the whole, more sad than happy. He fell in love and raised a son, but he died in his 20s. I worked physically demanding jobs almost every day of the week and did lip sync on weekends. When he reached his 60s and had not found fame for many years, he decided to take a break from what he loved most. Saldaña worked, suffered grief and tried not to think about the recognition she never received.

But luck does not always favor the young. In 2020, when Saldaña was 75 years old, he spoke about his life drag node StoryCorps podcastfrom NPR. Suddenly, people were more interested in her than they ever had been before. Out Magazine included her on its list of the 100 most influential gay people. New invitations to perform began to arrive. The career she thought was over suddenly blossomed.

On stage, Saldaña becomes herself

While waiting for her turn to take the stage in Los Angeles, Saldaña looks around her dressing room. So much has changed since the first time you did La Bamba. The show’s organizer, Mo B. Dick, appeared in drag in a John Waters film. And Buck Wylde, a king coming from Dallas, participated in the first reality show of drag kings. Other artists began contouring their faces to create masculine looks. Gluing mustaches and wearing elaborate costumes. Saldaña doesn’t draw whiskers or facial hair. Above all, she looks like a more elegant version of herself.

“I don’t know if I can compete,” she says to herself. “I hope it goes well.” Adjust the hat cowboy with a sigh and Buck Wylde stops to tell her how fantastic she looks. “We have to get her to Texas,” says Wylde. “They would love her there.”

Saldaña cheers up. “I would love to perform in Texas”, he responds.

For a moment, he can’t help but imagine a life where he travels the country entertaining people full time. He regularly receives his Social Security pension and works almost every day, but the money never arrives. Most mornings, he cries on the way to the houses he is going to clean. Saldaña isn’t sure she’ll ever earn enough to stop mopping other people’s floors.

Down there, a drag king called Malcolm Xtasy ends a number when the organizer announces to the public that the next artist is a very special headliner. “This Mexican-American artist has been performing since 1965. It was the year I was born, so this is really special,” says Mo B. Dick. “Welcome to the El Daña stage!”

Started playing Bonaparte’s Retreata 70s honky-tonk song by Glen Campbell, and Saldaña jumps onto the stage as if it were still 1965. He snaps his fingers. Spin. He slides across the stage with his boots and the audience throws handfuls of dollar bills at his feet. They scream with excitement when she blows kisses, but Saldaña can’t help but feel that the performance isn’t at her usual level. Does the audience realize how tired she is?

He takes a half-bow and, during the break, mixes with the people. There are practically only men — cisgender or transgender — but she flirts with some women sitting at a table in the back and talks to two television executives who had created the reality show of drag kings. She hands a card to everyone she meets, convinced that, somehow, tonight she can decide her fate.

When the break ends, Saldaña feels reinvigorated. Keep the fact western in the trash bag and unties the other bag, from where he takes out some imitation leather pants. Will do Tom Jones next.

It’s her favorite singer: exuberant, sexy, everything she still wants to be. Saldaña gets into his pants. She usually wears high-heeled boots in her Tom Jones outfits, but she’s afraid of falling again, so she chose some black “comfortable shoes”. “Tom Jones sometimes wears shoes like these too”, she says to herself. Jones is already 85 years old and women continue to find him sexy, regardless of the shoes he wears on stage.

“I can still make women swoon,” he says and, for the first time tonight, he sounds like he really believes it. Saldaña moves her hips and says a little prayer. “Lord, give me strength,” he whispers. “Send me a pair of angels to help me dance.”

Love Me Tonight It starts the moment you say amen. He slides to center stage and, for three minutes, everything else disappears. His knee doesn’t hurt. There is no lack of energy. Forget the trash bags, the grief and the money you don’t have. The audience stands up and applauds, and Saldaña knows he is a star.

Half the audience wants one selfie or fashion advice, and when you finally get back to your dressing room, it’s three hours past your usual bedtime. “I’m so happy,” he tells others kings. “That’s all I want. I want to have happiness in my life.”

Put the costumes back in the trash bags. The next morning she will take the train to Fresno and become Elsie Saldaña, the cleaning woman, again. But maybe — just maybe — someone will call her again to hire her. And she will return to being El Daña, for a moment or for however long she still has left.

​Exclusive PÚBLICO/The Washington Post