Fairy Godmother

This is a story of a gay English guy I read in the Guardian today.

I just thought it made an interesting contrast to what I wrote about yesterday. How people react to the most vulnerable.

I grew up in the English countryside, watching Queer as Folk on TV and dreaming about the day I’d move to the city and get to be part of the gay world. At age 18, in the mid-noughties, I packed up and left for Manchester, moving into the university halls of residence. I was thrilled.

On my first night out, I went to a popular gay club night and got stupendously drunk. The university halls were only a five-minute walk away, but I was alone. Around 2am, I found myself propped against a wall outside a takeaway, unable to remember how to get back to my bed.

Spotting me in trouble, Nana, who was lovingly known as the oldest drag queen in Manchester, came up to me and asked: “‘Are you OK, chicken?”

Nana was a Manchester institution. She had campaigned a lot during the HIV/Aids crisis in the 1980s and 90s. In the 2000s she’d often show up late at night to hand ice blocks out to drunk young partiers to help sober them up. She’d say: “Here’s something to suck on, boys,” which made everyone laugh.

I told Nana I lived at the university, but that I’d just moved here and didn’t know where I was going. Without hesitation, she replied: “Come on love, let’s get you home.”

Nana escorted me back, got me safely into my room, tucked me into bed and saw herself out. All of this, dressed in drag. Her parting words were: “Nana loves you – now be careful.”

Looking back now, I can see how much of a vulnerable situation I had put myself in, as an 18-year-old in an unfamiliar environment. But Nana, who was probably in her early 60s at that point, took me under her wing. She got me home safely then just disappeared, like a gay fairy godmother.

I love this story.

I so hate conservatives, vile fucken human beings, who would use such things as drag story hour and transexuals to build their pathetic fucken empires.