Arts & Entertainment
How Dolly became a folk saint for Appalachian queers
Judging others is ‘God’s job, not a human responsibility or capacity’
American singer-songwriter and actress Dolly Parton died last month. Parton’s death was announced by the family with a tribute video in which her nephew Bryan Seaver noted that her final wish was to rest in a “beautiful bed of plush cotton” so that she could finally be comfortable after a lifetime of wearing rhinestones. Fans across the country and the Internet thanked her and took up the mantle — wearing rhinestones, cowgirl boots, and glittering hats to honor her legacy and hosted events incorporating her favorite colors (pink and yellow) alongside butterflies in celebration of her life.
Parton’s memorial has drawn an interestingly pan-generational crowd — from conservative elders to their queer and trans grandchildren and everyone in between who admired Parton not just for her music but also her commitment to putting books in the hands of children across the country to openly and defiantly expressing her love and affection for LGBTQ+ people, including her long-time driver and assistant who is a trans man. But for one group of folks, queer and trans Appalachians, Parton represented something special — the possibility of coexistence.
Along with being for some the first person who told queer and trans people she loved and affirmed them in her Tennessee drawl, Parton fiercely defended the fact that she and we could hold two things at once. For Parton, this meant being both a devout Christian and an out and proud advocate for the LGBTQ+ community, and for many queer and trans Appalachians, this meant the ability to be LGBTQ+ and people of faith, people from the country, people with accents who don’t have to give up their mountain heritage in order to join communities of affinity and solidarity.
Parton made clear that loving LGBTQ+ people was not a caveat to her faith, but it was directly the result of it. Parton was an LGBTQ+ ally because of how she was raised and what she believed. It was because she believed in a social justice gospel that she stood in solidarity with the LGBTQ+ community, even in the face of intense criticism (including after her death when eulogized by far right Christian leaders and public figures).
Dolly repeatedly shared her love for and faith in the LGBTQ+ community, most recently in the face of a Tennessee anti-trans law reported that sharing with The Hollywood Reporter: “I just want everybody to be treated good. They cannot help that any more than I can help being Dolly Parton.”
“I do not believe we should criticize and judge other people,” she said. “We should be accepting and loving. We are all God’s children.” Judging, she believed, was “God’s job, not a human responsibility or capacity.
For many LGBTQ+ people raised in faith traditions that continue to deny our existence or who argue that we can be changed to fit a cisgender, heterosexual norm, Parton was the devout Christian “meemaw” who we all knew — for some of us, they knew and loved us as we were and are but for others, the people who spoke and speak with her Appalachian tongue hurt us and continue to do so in the name of faith, continue to shun and try to convert us in the name of the same God Dolly knew.
Dolly never tried to change who we were. She believed that we, just like her, were exactly who we were meant to be. She never spurned her LGBTQ+ friends, questioning if the rumors she was a lesbian were so bad and joking that “if I hadn’t been a woman, I would’ve been a drag queen.” Parton changed lives, I know, by being a proud Christian woman who continued to love and stand with LGBTQ+ people.
And unlike other LGBTQ+ allies in name only, Parton’s allyship was never performative. Parton co-owned Sandollar Productions, one of the companies that produced “Common Threads: Stories from the Quilt,”the 1989 documentary about the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt. She wrote the Oscar-nominated song “Travelin’ Thru” for the 2005 film “Transamerica,” and when a Dollywood visitor was asked to turn a shirt recognizing marriage equality inside out to cover the message, she publicly apologized, offered refunds, and reinforced that “all families are welcome” at the park.
Hers was a Christian faith that stood firmly on action (best seen in her support of marginalized communities across the country), and for queer and trans people, including The Skeptic Pastor, also known as Jeremy Steele, it was a ministry. Steele put it best when he described Dolly Parton as “a lifeline and honestly a minister to me.” “When I hear these things, when I see these videos, she’s talking to me, and especially growing up in the Deep South, closeted queer, this was everything.”
This was another critical part of Parton’s legacy. The 80-year-old was also fiercely open about and proud of her Tennessee heritage. Despite continued attacks on her appearance, her background, and the way that she spoke (something many people from the mountains experience), Parton did not try to cover up her humble beginnings and how they shaped not just her understanding of faith but her legacy of action.
For many LGBTQ+ people born and raised in Appalachia (along with the South and Midwest), we rarely see representation of our strong and mighty communities in the media. In all three regions, gay bars served as vital sanctuaries and community hubs in rural and blue-collar regions, although many are shuttering after the economic downtown during the COVID-19 pandemic and communities shifting increasingly online. From The Shamrock in Bluefield, W. Va., to The Jungle in Nashville, and The Mark III Tap Room in Muncie, Ind., these gay bars show us that LGBTQ+ people have always and will always live across the country.
While depictions of thriving queer communities on screen are largely contained to the East and West Coasts, the queer and trans people raised with accents and communities like Dolly’s know that there is a rich queer subculture at home, one that our ancestors created for us and we continue to nurture and celebrate. But largely because of continued trauma from far right religious pundits, of continued caricatures of “red necks,” and out of fear that people with our voices and our backgrounds will be bigoted and close-minded, we are hesitant to share who we are, to show up as ourselves in spaces of affinity and solidarity.
Parton’s legacy, as queer artist Grace Haley painted beautifully on a bright pink horse after the icon’s passing, was that “it’s okay to be gay in Tennessee.”
As someone who was incredibly hesitant joining queer spaces in Washington, D.C. because of growing up in the Midwest and going to school in the Rust Belt, I didn’t know if I’d fit in, but as soon as I walked up to the doors at the Adams-Morgan gay bar Pitchers and saw that cardboard cut out of Dolly Parton in the window, I realized I was welcome — not just the part of me that is queer but also the part of me that pronounces it “pee-can” pie.
Yes, Parton was and is controversial for many reasons. Some have argued that she could have been louder on some issues, especially the ongoing human rights crisis in Gaza, and some have pointed out that she died a millionaire. Although she gave away much of her money and established programs promoting literacy and healthcare in rural parts of the country, including in Tennessee where she grew up, some pointed out that she still contributes to a system of capitalist exploitation that extracted humanity out of her own community. Others have also criticized her involvement with the U.S. military.
But it’s important to remember that Parton was human. When people call her an angel, we all know what they mean, but it can sometimes make it hard for us to feel that we can ever be who she was or that we should even try.
Instead, people online are urging others to remember her instead as a folk hero, as a folk saint — complex and human but also someone that we can become, someone whose memory we can call on for strength and hope in times of struggle. As the LGBTQ+ community mourns her passing, I am heartened to see her recognized in this way, to see her canonized in the queer community as a folk saint of Appalachia, a folk saint of queer allies, and a folk saint of the Appalachian queers just like me.
Theater
Dawn Huggins reflects on year-long reign as Miss Adams Morgan
38th annual pageant set for Halloween night
38th Annual Miss Adams Morgan Pageant
Saturday, Oct. 31
Washington Hilton
1919 Connecticut Ave., N.W.
thedupontsocialclub.com
On Halloween night at the Washington Hilton, the annual Miss Adams Morgan Pageant, D.C.’s largest and longest-running amateur drag competition, turns 38.
It also marks the end of HRH Dawn Huggins’s year-long reign as Miss Adams Morgan.
Joe Kuehne, the transformative performer who brings Dawn Huggins to life on stage, reviews the reign philosophically: “It’s funny, like most of life, the time flew by, and sometimes it didn’t. As a contestant, the preparation and planning can be a slog and then it’s all over before you know it.”
But, he adds, the time has been filled with creativity, community involvement, and innovation.
This year’s pageant is promised to run at a fast pace. The show kicks off with a mashup number starring Dawn Huggins along with several former queens. Dawn’s bit is a tribute to “The Shining.” Her carefully planned look is “haunted.”
Next, the seven contestants vying for the big title participate in the Parade of States (and U.S. territories). Their bios are read as they walk (doing whatever they wish with props of their choosing). The second half is performance (lip sync, comedic skits, etc.) and after several hours, a winner is selected by a panel of judges and the audience.
Prior to Dawn Huggins snatching the crown in October 2025, Kuehne wore numerous other pageant hats including “drag-wearing” attendee, contestant, and house videographer.
In 2006, Kuehne’s documentary short “Relative Freedom” (about his family’s reaction to his queerness) was screened at Reel Affirmations film festival. It caught the attention of that year’s reigning Miss Adams Morgan. She invited Kuehne to partner in adding video to the pageant. He accepted and had kept with it for two decades.
Inspired by the competitors and fun, he decided to give the pageant a shot. So, Dawn Huggins (“I’m a hugger, so the name fit.”) began competing, and won the title on her fifth try.
Putting on a dress and entertaining a ballroom full of people was never too much of a stretch for Kuehne. Prior to competing, he’d been a part of the audience in drag, and as a kid did community theater.
Over the years, Dawn has lip-synced (Brandi Carlile, Tory, Whitney, Mariah) and wooed the festive though not always easy-to-please throng with her clever comedy and camp. Last year for her winning number and skit, she did songs from “Wicked,” replacing the evil Wizard with Trump. “Not a huge leap,” she adds.
By day, Kuehne does marketing for tech companies: “In that role some of what I do is video production. The drag aspect doesn’t come up very often,” he deadpans. “But yes, the skillsets do overlap.”
Kuehne never thought of Dawn Huggins as a beautiful or polished queen; she was never meant to be that. He says, “I do my best to pull it together. But my goal is pure entertainment.”
Occasionally Dawn includes a message in what she does: “I try not to be too heavy handed about it. The second-year’s number was inspired by a person who, troubled by their sexuality, took their own life. Some of the audience members were moved, and that’s meaningful to me.”
Started in 1988 by a group of friends getting in drag and celebrating Halloween at Annie’s Paramount Steak House, the Miss Adams Morgan Pageant quickly ballooned into a storied tradition requiring a board and oversight.
Also in 1988, the Dupont Social Club was founded to not only encourage community but also help the pageant run things. Currently, Kuehne serves as the club’s V.P. of Social Events. Responsibilities include planning events, tracking attendance, and keeping things lively.
As both Queen and V.P., Kuehne is in a unique position to make things happen. During Dawn’s reign, the club created Sloppy Saturdays at Her Diner in Adams Morgan, a monthly happy hour fundraising event with performance tips and event donations going to support local LGBTQ+ nonprofits.
And now, as outgoing queen, HRH Dawn Huggins is charged with selecting the pageant’s charitable beneficiary.
She’s wisely chosen Whitman-Walker Legal Services. which provides free, comprehensive civil legal assistance to people living with HIV/AIDS, patients of Whitman-Walker Health, and members of the LGBTQ+ community across the greater Washington, D.C. region.
“With all that has and is going on, this feels like the right time to make that choice.”
Because the pageant has almost always taken place in October, it’s loosely tied to Halloween.
This year the show (themed “Something Wicked This Way Comes”) lands on Oct. 31, ticking all the boxes for pageant, drag show, and huge costume party.
On and offstage, you’re likely to see sequined gowns, ginormous hair, ermine robes alongside conceptual creations and comedic to dead serious style homages.
“What the contestants bring to the stage is pretty incredible, but sometimes that extraordinary creativity is surpassed by the audience members filling the ballroom, and we love that.”
a&e features
How Orville Peck healed his inner child through ‘Street Fighter (2026)’
Famous singer discusses this new role, what it means as LGBTQ artist
When asked to think about Orville Peck, most people would immediately remember the man’s music, his time on Broadway, his many scintillating photoshoots or, of course, the ornate masks he wears throughout it all.
Most wouldn’t, at least before a few months ago, think about the long-lasting video game franchise, “Street Fighter.”
This historic fighting game doesn’t instantly mesh with the image that Orville has spent years developing. The country singer has garnered national acclaim through his four albums, sultry and often somber affairs that have earned him numerous awards and thousands of fans. Along with his voice, new listeners are intrigued by his masks; Peck always wears a face covering to protect his privacy and embody a distinctly queer flair in his work. These are only removed for very special occasions — such as his renowned turn as the Emcee in a Broadway revival of “Cabaret” — with even his recent centerfold in the sexy magazine Playgirl seeing Orville bare everything except his face.
The musician does all of this while being proudly gay, serving as one of the most notable queer celebrities we have today. This, combined with his dynamic career, has earned Peck legions of supporters, each one excited about whatever new project he decides to do next. And they were all completely shocked in early 2026 when Orville announced just what that project would be: starring in Kitao Sakurai’s live-action adaptation of the classic video game, “Street Fighter.”
“They didn’t know I grew up playing this game, so it was so cool!” Peck raved as he discussed the film with the Los Angeles Blade. For the less digitally-minded of us, “Street Fighter” is an immensely popular gaming franchise, with this decades-spanning series offering dozens of games filled with colorful characters players can fight as. The cast for this latest adaptation dropped earlier this year and included stars like Jason Momoa, David Dastmalchian, Callina Liang — and, of course, Orville Peck.
“Fighting games probably draw a lot of queer people in [because] you can choose which character speaks to you, and they belong there,” Orville explained. “They don’t have to prove themselves…they belong, and you can connect in that way, since maybe you didn’t belong or [feel] included,” Orville admitted that it’s a connection he’s experienced himself; the man spent many hours of his childhood playing “Street Fighter” with his brothers. And one of his favorite characters was Vega, the bullfighting, gorgeous assassin obsessed with his own appearance (and slashing his opponents to ribbons).
It’s why there was no question Orville would take on the role when it was first offered to him. This may seem like an easy choice for many viewers — both Peck and Vega wear a mask — but the singer stressed that his link to the character went far beyond just the physical. “Vega did carry this kind of queer-coded energy that queer fans of “Street Fighter” have always picked up on and related to. And I was encouraged to not stray away from that — they wanted that to be included.”
Vega serves as the loyal henchman of “Street Fighter”’s main villain, M. Bison, with the claw-wielding fighter filling his screen time with snarky humor, great action scenes, and a distaste for wearing a shirt. But Vega also serves as a vital contrast in the film by punctuating the hypermasculinity of the men around him. He shows that queerness and strength can go hand-in-hand, with Orville finding it so affirming to bring out that universal truth through his performance.
It was something that he enjoyed not only for his adult self, but for the younger version who loved nothing more than playing “Street Fighter” with his brothers, saying, “Being a little queer kid … I definitely did not feel at times that I was going to be welcomed into some things in life, right? Getting to be the only openly gay man in this film with a bunch of very heterosexual gentlemen running around, and then having my place next to them? I think that would be really encouraging and healing to little Orville, for sure.”
Orville went on about his amazing co-stars — he warmly referred to Callina Liang, who plays Chun-Li in the film, as ‘my sister’ — and the countless joys this role brought him. When asked whether he would return for a possible sequel, he emphasized, “We’re all so close as a cast now. Everybody loves and supports each other so much. I would 100% do it again, of course.” It’s a promising message for many queer viewers absolutely loving his turn as Vega, and it signals an uplifting development for the man himself.
Orville Peck’s entire career is dedicated to utmost authenticity, showing your truest self in a way that feels genuine and recognizing what that truth brings to yourself and others. In a movie filled with nonstop fighting and campy chaos, he still managed to channel that into every second of his time onscreen. And whether it be as Vega or whatever role he decides to take next, it’s a vital message that this musician — and, he will remind you now, actor — will always work hard to make the center of his work.
Out & About
DC Center celebrates a decade of its art gallery
‘The Art of Belonging’ fall reception scheduled for Saturday
The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center will host “The Art of Belonging, a Fall Reception & Art Auction” on Saturday, Oct. 17 at 7 p.m. at 1827 Wiltberger St. NW.
This event will celebrate 10 years of Center Arts Gallery, an arts & cultural offering of The DC LGBTQ+ Community Center. Charity Blackwell will guide guests through the evening, with live music from 2nd Independence, DC Different Drummers’ jazz combo, bringing warm, joyful energy to the celebration. There will also be food selections from Shaw’s Tavern’s new fall menu, along with a Sweets Flight of desserts created by Chef Patrick Vanas.
For more details, visit the DC Center’s website or see page 8 in this week’s Blade.
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