Common App Essay Essay - Columbia University

When I was first introduced to RuPaul's Drag Race, I became enamored by the idea of donning sparkly stilettos, grandiose gowns, and luscious lashes on the iconic main stage. After ten seasons of fantasizing about strutting the stage with a crown and scepter of my own, I know exactly how I would win the competition. While I may lack the acting skills needed to ace the Snatch Game, I possess the cultural pride and political involvement needed to be the best queen RuPaul's Drag Race has ever seen. Many fan-favorite performances on Drag Race have been odes to the drag queen's culture. Symone, the winner of Season 13, wore a radiant, floor-length durag on the main stage. Although the look was technically stunning, it was her appreciation of her Black culture that made it legendary. I've grown up in a vibrant, majority-Latinx city, and I've always been proud of my Latinx heritage, but, at times, I struggle with my identity as a Cuban, Honduran, and American. I'm estranged from my Cuban family, so I feel distant from my Cuban culture, and I'm not entirely in touch with my Honduran culture due to living in a Cuban-dominated city. I don't have to fit into rigid labels; instead, I'm a beautiful coalescence of cultures—and I would use it to snatch the crown. On the runway, I would don an elegant bata cubana and adorn it with the striking colors of the Honduran flag. In a lipsync, I wouldn't be afraid to bust out some punta with a kick of mambo—and hip-hop. From slaying my Gloria Estefan impression in the Snatch Game, a celebrity impersonation challenge, to excessively trilling my Rs on a write-your-own-song-verse challenge, the complexities of my vibrant culture will be vital to my win. Drag is inherently political. It's a rejection of societal norms and a celebration of queer culture. Our current political discourse is dominated by straight white men, so queer voices are vital to bringing about change. As a queer person of color, I have no choice but to be involved in politics. In Hialeah—or, as I like to call it, "mini Cuba"—politics are taboo, and young people like myself are often discouraged from getting a political education. Fortunately, I had the legacies of tenacious queer people like Marsha P. Johnson and Stormé DeLarverie to teach me what it takes to be a staunch advocate for civil rights. RuPaul once said, "Every time I bat my false eyelashes, it's a political statement." In the rare event that I would have to lipsync for my life, I'd turn any song into a political act. A performance to Beyonce's "Freedom" would become an evocative call for the liberation of people of color, while Christina Aguilera's "Fighter" becomes an uplifting message for the thousands of immigrants risking their lives to cross the U.S. border every year. On an unconventional materials challenge, I'd create a captivating gown out of fake money and wire to speak up against the privatization of prisons and the cycle of incarceration. My unique ability to turn anything into a political statement will carry me to the finish line on Drag Race. In reality, I'm a long way from competing on Drag Race. I'm not the best at sewing, and my makeup still needs practice, but the show continues to inspire me to be outspoken about my culture, beliefs, and identity. For now, I will continue to slay lip syncs to Britney Spears' songs in my bedroom, and I hope that one day I can join the queen of queens on the judge's table of RuPaul's Drag Race.