BWW JR: Why I Took My Nine-Year-Old to KINKY BOOTS

Why I Took My Nine Year Old to See Kinky Boots

The most honest conversations with children often happen in the car. I remember asking my mother about death from the back seat, and when our dog died last year, my four year old worked through the whole concept of life and loss from his car seat as I drove him to school. He wondered what happens after we die, asking "Mommy, does God build us again?". He never would have volunteered such innocent honesty if we were face to face. There's an anonymous safety about being so close but not making eye contact. A friend of mine has teenage children who refuse to ride in the car with her because they know they'll be trapped in open communication for the duration of the trip.

It was on the way to see Kinky Boots on Broadway that I had one of these frank conversations with my nine year old. A few weeks earlier, when the invitation to see the show arrived in my inbox, I'd texted a few friends to see if Kinky was appropriate for kids. "It's a family show" was the advice that came back from Billy Porter via my best friend Jamison, and "No bad language! It's just a bunch of drag queens," came via text from my friend Celina Carvajal who plays Nicola.

So there we were in the car on our way to the Al Hirschfeld when I realized I needed to check in on my daughter's understanding of what a drag queen is.

"I think it's like a guy who dresses up like a girl, right?" she replied.

"Not completely," I answered. I explained that a drag queen isn't just putting on the clothes of the opposite gender, it's a man who is putting on an exaggerated costume and assuming the role of a very heightened, fabulous woman. Sometimes they emulate actual famous women...movie stars, pop stars...and some times it's just their impression of the ideal woman.

"It's almost always very glamorous," I explained. "Not just a regular woman like Mommy who wears boring clothes and comfortable shoes. A man who puts on women's clothes is just cross-dressing. But real drag is an art."

Then she hit me with a zinger.

"Are all drag queens gay?"

An insightful zinger.

"Well, not necessarily. I mean, there's nothing about dressing in drag that requires you to be gay, is there?"

She agreed.

"Mommy, can I tell my friends we went to see this?"

The question gave me pause. It hadn't occurred to me until that moment that some parents might be shocked to hear that my nine year old is asking these kinds of questions. But I want her to know that when we hide something, we imply that it's bad or shameful, and that makes people afraid, and fear makes people do mean things. I would never let my daughter see a play that was violent or scary, and am trying to raise her up to be a person who doesn't hurt other people. Someone that accepts people for who they are.

The opening number featured a touching bit of choreography performed by a little boy in red pumps, and I was struck by the implied pain of this child growing up in a working class town with a father who won't let his son be himself. We could feel the audience waiting for the main event...the entrance of the ensemble of drag dancers. When they took the stage, falling around Billy Porter's miraculous Lola with glitter and gusto, I leaned over and whispered in my daughter's ear:

"Those are all men."

"Well duh," she whispered back. "I didn't think they cast that many tall women."

Consider me corrected!

In act II, we heard the line that officially makes this show good for kids: Accept someone for who they are. My daughter squeezed my hand. And I thanked Kinky Boots for not making Mommy a liar.

Whether staring out the window of the car or sitting in a dark theatre, staring at a stage lit up with sequins and truth, these are precious moments for being honest with your kids.